The Interloper
by The Silent Insomniac
Summary: 10 years after Zero Two, humans & digimon are at war. With Man close to victory, the Chosen Children have scattered, their dreams twisted into dystopia. Veemon meets a fugitive marred by tragedy, roaming many worlds & auguring unprecedented change. Can this interloper bring hope back? Or will his involvement destroy them all? OC & Canon deconstruction. Rated M for intensity & gore.
1. First Contact

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] While I want to apologize for the abysmal length of 14.3 thousand words, I will warn you now that **brevity is not an element of the story**. I give it my best to write descriptively, so all my chapters are planned to be _at least_ 10,000 words long. I normally average 15K, **especially** if I hit a chapter filled with fighting. If you hate long chapters, then read it bit by bit, skim through it, or get out.

[2] The summary's rather pathetic, but given the stupid character limit it's enough to describe the synopsis of my story. Of course, a real summary that establishes the premise of the story can be found in the first few paragraphs. If you want more information, e.g. the full summary, the protagonists, the vision for the story, its current status, and the like, please check it out in my profile. :)

Now, I **will** warn you now that this story is going to be dark, intense, and most importantly, emotive. It operates on the theme of _realism _and aspires to deconstruct typical post-02 fics as well as the usage of an OC for a major character. Fluffy scenes and anything else generally associated with warmth and happiness are intended to be uncommon and should be treated as respite from all the no-nonsense seriousness going on here. Plus, given the highly descriptive way I write, you should be happy I would give them the same amount of detail and thought into them.

And yes, you read right. I am employing an OC for a major protagonist, a choice some readers may have problems with. Despite the fact the first story arc (i.e. the first 9 chapters) has only this OC and a canon character (Veemon, obviously, if you haven't checked out my profile OR bothered to glance at the character filters) on the main cast, the story is actually complex and intricate, incorporating a rich backstory between the first chapter and the ending of _Zero Two_. Furthermore, the Chosen Children are all involved here, with my focus dwelling on Hikari and Taichi. Unfortunately, these two aren't introduced into the main cast until the beginning of the second story arc (10th chapter). Besides, when they show up, well, the story starts snowballing from there, launching itself from the _First Contact_ arc deep into the bowels of hell.

[3] CONVENTIONS! I will be using **original names** here. Same for digimon and their attacks. In fact, the canon cast's personalities are ultimately based on how the original portrayed them. After all, I grew up with the Japanese version (or to be more precise, an English dub that closely follows the original content). The only material I imported from the US dubs are "Veemon" and anything related to his attacks (e.g. "Vee Headbutt" rather than "V-Mon Head"). The Rookie-Champion-Ultimate-Mega level system is used by the primary antagonists, while everyone else including the narrator will use the Child-Adult-Perfect-Ultimate level system followed by the original. Note that "Digidestined" and "Digital Monsters" will correspond to political groups, as you will learn in later chapters.

[4] On formatting. _Italics_ are generally used for thoughts. Note that centered italics are introductions. Think of it as a narrative someone is saying concurrently to a scene being narrated. Like a songfic. _Italicized _and **boldened** segments in conversations and narratives are used as emphasis. Note that words in **bold** are stronger than those _italicized_. Complete sentences in _italics_ (even with the "quotation marks") mean past conversations being recalled, or flashbacks for that matter. Context will help discern thoughts from flashbacks, and rest assured, I proofread enough to ensure the confusion doesn't happen. Regarding signature attacks made by digimon and other individuals (e.g. the Modifiers), they are **always capitalized** when verbalized. An unusual spacing (denoted by periods in between paragraphs/lines) generally means a lapse in time, or a pause used for dramatic effect.

[5] SCAI is pronounced like "Sky". It is a term used by the antagonists. The acronym's meaning and context will be expanded on in a later chapter.

[6] Finally, as a fanwriter, I do not own Digimon. This story is not used for pecuniary gain or any other selfish desires that hurt TOEI and any of its subsidiaries. :) However, I **do** own the many OC's that abound in the story.

So...let's begin!

* * *

_The Digital Revelation: it was a day to remember, for both the Earth and the Digital World. Belialvamdemon was defeated, thwarted by a million lights. Yukio Oikawa, his compunctious pawn, turned his life into energy, setting it free upon the Digital World and restored it. Life began to regenerate._

Blue hands clipped a black utility belt around a white belly. Its short, white claws did nothing to hinder the careful handling of a sleek, black SIG P39. It was cocked. The Nylon belt had several pockets filled with .357 SIG magazines. Three contained rations and medical supplies.

_As the forefront of this great struggle, the Twelve Chosen Children of Japan, in commemoration of this victory, broadcast on the network their journey – the joy, tears, and the difficulty they had to overcome, first as a group of eight, and then as a group of five mentored by the first generation. A partner digimon exists for every person, a milestone which, the Chosen Children hope, would lead to the happy future they wish for 25 years from now._

Those same hands brought the handgun near a large, blue, spherical head of a digimon leaning on the red stone. An explosion nearby jolted the two six-inch, slightly conical appendages dangling behind it.

_From there, things only changed for the worse. Fear of the Digimon spread. Their equality to humans in terms of intelligence, rights, and free will were reckoned. To complicate, there emerged factions that looked down on the monsters, despising them completely. Tensions rose. The Chosen Children did all they could do, aided by their brethren around the world._

"Lord Veemon, above you!" The monster snapped open its crimson eyes, glancing upwards, its gaze catching a man dressed in camouflage about to plunge the butt of his assault rifle on his head.

_But what can a few thousand children and their families do, to convince the billions around the world otherwise? What could they do to assuage the rising fear, hatred, and discrimination, even as Hollywood began releasing films portraying Digimon as the feared antagonist?_

The digimon rolled out of harm's way, rebounded, and gave the man a kick with his strong, three-toed foot. Its stout claws would've poked through the soldier's combat vest and wounded him, if it was not for the rifle used to block the counter. The sheer force of the blow flung the weapon meters away.

_The monsters' trust in and love for the humans were not reciprocated. Fueled by dread and detestation the humans struck first after eight years, instigating a war. Most of the Chosen, the saviors of worlds both Real and Digital, had to retire, for reasons never disclosed. Though the original Twelve proudly held their banner high, their numbers began to dwindle._

His opponent took out a knife, and lunged at the digimon. But the lizard-like monster aimed his SIG at him, shooting twice the man's arms and legs. He cursed the blue dragon, slumping on the cover it used seconds ago. "Can't do anything to me!" Veemon stuck his tongue out at the soldier, his high, child-like voice taking in a tone of victory.

_Two years have passed since then. Technological innovations had forced open the humans' gate to victory. The Digital Monsters, who fought so dearly for reciprocal love and friendship, were losing. Were the Twelve's rosy picture of the future nothing more but misplaced hope, and an ignorance of political reality?_

He turned to address the one who warned him, a golem made of nothing but yellow boulders seemingly held together by frayed, decaying bands of rope and twine. "Thanks, Golemon!"

This rock monster dug his huge arms into the mountain, retrieving a chunk of red rock. Soldiers coming from below aimed their rifles and shot at his arms, but their weak bullets produced only painful stings. Golemon threw the boulder at them. "No problem!" he replied, not noticing that Veemon had looked away. His enemies scattered in an attempt to survive, but all were crushed regardless.

Veemon peered at the land sloping downwards before him, the mountain lit by the afternoon sun. A group of soldiers were making their way up the slope. Aiming with a fearsome precision, he began to shoot at them, targeting their legs. He retreated immediately behind a small boulder closer to the golem. "And by the way," he added, peeking out and immobilizing another enemy, "Stop calling me 'Lord'!" He reloaded his firearm.

Golemon scoffed. "And why should I? You're one of the Twelve: a Chosen; a Savior of this world! Get used to the respect like the others!" The mineral digimon, spotting a group of six moving towards them in prone, inhaled deeply. He released dark clouds from his mouth. "SULPHUR PLUME!" His victims choked on the volcanic ash. Meanwhile, Veemon had crippled another man in camouflage.

"Die," the golem muttered, raising his fist of stone. "Human filth."

"STOP!" The attack halted, Golemon's fist just a foot from the choking men. The digimon blinked at Veemon, who was seething at the sight. He stood between Golemon's fist and the men behind him, not even bothering to make sure he had cover. "They're down already!" the blue dragon insisted. "You don't **need** to kill them!"

Cold words rolled out of Golemon's stone mouth. "You're too naïve, Lord Veemon." Behind the steel plate covering the upper half of his face, the golem's red eyes tapered with intent, watching two soldiers head for their position, skillfully—or luckily—evading thunderbolts from a couple of nine-tailed burgundy digimon resembling rabbits below them. Pushing the little Chosen away with a pinky finger, Golemon reduced the group of ash-covered soldiers to a pile of colored meat. "Humans have been our enemies since the Revelation!" he argued. "Grow **up**."

A tank began crawling up from the bottom of the mountain. It aimed its long barrel towards the two nine-tailed digimon, which ran towards it after realizing their thunderbolts' inefficiency. The golem once more, dug his hands into the mountain. "Lord Veemon, look again at what was once the glorious Spire of Courage." He lifted a great sphere, eyeing the armored personnel carriers gathering beside the tank. "Elecmon!" he bellowed. "Forget the tank and APC's! Back up the three Mushroomon to your left! ROCK TOSS."

* * *

"Ha… Ha…"

It was a world filled with nothing but flowing light, vibrantly changing from one color to another. Its warm yet unstable energy surrounded a man floating in its bosom, confusing his senses, rendering his hands invisible even if he put them right before his goldenrod eyes.

He felt weak. His abdomen throbbed. The man's hand crept to its source, opposite his appendix. There was the sickening feeling of warm liquid on his fingertips. Blood. Oozing out of some hole in his ebony breastplate. He didn't know how large the wound was, but it was bad enough to sap his strength. To leave him gasping for breath.

A black tunnel wrapped by prismatic light.

It was the first image that returned to him, followed by that of a woman clad in a purple battle robe—reminiscent of a priestess's—standing before a woman in green, tight-fitting vest. The priestess's right hand was curled around a long, silver mace. It shivered in her grasp. Her opponent hovered in front of her, her smooth, beautiful hands enveloped by an ominous, yellow glow.

The memory was hazy. Perhaps the severity of the wound and the adverse effects of the stringent light caressing the man caused it.

_"Leave me and escape!"_ he remembered her utter. _"Please! Everyone else would've died in vain."_ Her voice trailed. The man tried to stop the memory; he refused to remember. He started forward, distracting himself from it. Little by little the colorful light coalesced into white. But even the man's efforts to distance himself from the memory were futile.

_"Go on to the next world. You cannot fall here, Christopher, not when you're so far!"_

He broke into a run. Never mind the pain that encumbered him so! The scenario's end was so blatant he relished the throbbing in his abdomen. He focused hard on the logical holes in his own situation. Why was he still alive? Wasn't the wall of energy that so enveloped him supposed to assimilate his body into itself? But why continue sprinting? Christopher was afraid. But of what, he asked himself. _What am I afraid of? _The white light was strengthening.

The long hazel hair of the priestess, her azure eyes, and her sweet voice invaded his head.

_"Take care always."_

"NO! DAMN IT! NO!"

He defiantly shook his head, running with his eyes closed. "NO, NO, NO, NO!"

_"I… I-I, love, you."_

He could recall the gorgeous smile preserved on a tear-stricken face. "AAAAAHHHHHHH!"

.

.

The coiling energy suddenly dissipated, giving way to some natural warmth Christopher felt accustomed to. No longer did his feet feel like they were stepping on nothingness. They fell on stony ground. Something hard, however, made contact with his feet. He tripped, face-first. Propping his hands on the soil, Chris pushed himself up, still enduring the throbbing pain. Spitting out distasteful pebbles, he wiped his tears, opening his goldenrod eyes.

He was in a forest. Its trees seemed ordinary, though made of some artificial matter. The ground sloped upwards slightly. Despite this, the trees crowded around him in that it was quite difficult to navigate through the forest. Chris raised his left arm, his eyes fixed on a canescent bracer worn on the forearm. Its shape was similar to a curved triangle. A blue gemstone was affixed on the base near Chris's elbow. _Activate_. No response. Frustrated, he slammed the device on a nearby tree. It would've fallen if it wasn't for the many others supporting it. Whatever it was, neither did it encumber him nor did it break.

A great spire of rock towered over the forest, easy enough for Christopher to see. He rose. The spire was more resplendent under the afternoon sun. Was he on some kind of a mountain? Possibly, he thought. Then the pain came to him again.

Christopher unzipped the long, cerulean coat he wore, revealing carbon-colored armor underneath. The breastplate shielded him from the neck down, notwithstanding the gaping hole by his lower left abdomen. _Crap. _He reached into his black pants' pocket and placed an achromatic bar of metal in his coat's interior pocket. He ensured the silver pistol secured to his right hip was ready for use. He didn't forget about the ornate, ashen staff on his back, but Chris felt no need for it.

Or to be more precise, he was deathly afraid to use it.

_Gotta get a grip on reality. I heal fast, so no worries on the wound if I don't get into any fights. First thing to do is find shelter. If that woman catches me now, it's all over! _Christopher determined that ascertaining the landscape of the area was imperative—it would be easier to find a place to rest after that. He sauntered towards the spire. _If I'm lucky, there's one there waiting for me. _

Naturally, he could not help but wonder: _Just where the hell am I?_

* * *

Veemon needed no lecture from the golem. He already knew the Spire of Courage had seen better days. It was his "birth place", after all. A simple glance at the slope below would reveal its war-stricken deformity. Soldiers constantly scaled the mountain, easily replacing the fallen – either killed by Golemon, the Elecmon, or the Mushroomon; or immobilized by Veemon's own gun.

The situation was maddening. Forty men gathered at the foot of the Spire, prepping a climb. Many more were already climbing it. The humans had three tanks, one of which was just destroyed by the golem. On the monsters' side, the frontlines were guarded by twelve Mushroomon, digimon similar to a purple, poisonous mushroom in appearance, five Elecmon, Golemon, and himself. The Chosen gazed towards the peak for a second, seeing the edge of a forest just below it. That was their escape route, secured by a Commandramon, four Guardromon, six Gotsumon, and a Monochromon. It led straight to an even thicker forest, a disabled digital portal, and of course, the path to the satellite base that Veemon and his company of thirty defended with a passion.

Very steep cliffs ran the Spire's sides. The blue dragon was thankful for this; the humans were incapable of flanking his group from behind. It was basically up to the Mushroomon and Elecmon scattered on the frontlines to bar the enemy, with Golemon and Veemon taking care of those who somehow got past them.

Perseverance to capture this critical point and eventually eliminate the satellite base was high among the humans. The reasons were obvious. How many times was Veemon subjected to that racist tag of Digimon being threats to humanity? But there were also just as many times when he himself dissociated from his own comrades. "Humans are **not** enemies!" he replied, gesturing at the soldiers fighting below. "They can be _friends_! How can I even kill ONE of them when my own partner's human?"

"Humans kill mere animals **and** each other." This frigid reply met with the blue dragon's livid stare. "They're now on the verge of wiping _us_ out. Lord Veemon, don't you see we are fighting for our rights, for our **SURVIVAL**? If humanity must be destroyed for that, then we must!"

"But—!"

Golemon cut him off. "But what? Your _human_ partner won't let that happen?" The word was attached with an acerbic derision. He roared. "SO WHAT? Out of the **billions** of those filthy monkeys, how many side with us? How many _fight_ for us? Why aren't your human halves even here, in this very battlefield?"

"They're doing their best to help us somewhere else," Veemon sheepishly answered.

"**Really**." The golem was fuming. "Your human halves just _sit_ on the side, letting **us** do the fighting. DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!" Two objects landed near the two monsters engrossed in their argument.

Veemon struck Golemon's leg with his fist. "Daisuke's not like that! His friends aren't like that! NO! You got it all wrong, Golemon!"

"Then tell me, Lord Veemon. What is this _'__Daisuke'_ doing for you?"

* * *

_Activate_.

Christopher made several, abortive attempts to activate the device on his forearm. It annoyed him further, doing nothing to help his worsening condition—trudging through the forest required a good amount of effort, effort he could not afford to waste. His vision blurred. He knelt, hyperventilating.

The spire of rock towered above him, but he was closing the gap. The slope was not so steep. In fact, it was almost level, as if the spire ahead was a great pile of rock in the middle of a forest-covered plain. Faint echoes of gunshots, explosions, and sounds of war reverberated continuously. A battle was underway, he observed. _The last thing I want is getting involved in it_. He paced slowly towards his goal. But the longer he remained in the forest, the more he felt vulnerable and exposed to unnecessary danger.

A pair of yellow orbs briefly entered his sight. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize their oddity among the flora. _Were they eyes? _Christopher backtracked to where he last saw them. Only a small pile of gray rocks were left in its place. Uninterested, he returned to his path.

.

.

Minutes passed. The pain was becoming more unbearable, but at least he was making good progress, having found a path in the thick forest. Chris wiped the perspiration off his forehead, brushing away the strands of blond, sweat-drenched hair that naturally formed a Spanish mullet. He saw a decrepit vending machine standing incongruously along the path. The forest began giving way to small clearings here and there. He once passed a small television gathering moss beside a large tree. _Pathetic traps_. Whatever they were, Chris did not have the time and the condition to check them out.

Another pair of yellow orbs. It was the ninth pair already. He found it strange to find stacks of gray, lifeless rocks whenever he returned for a second look. Chris had a feeling he was being watched. Upon rumination, he began to consider: _what if those rocks were __**alive**__?_

It was a ridiculous idea. Erring always on the side of caution, Chris retreated to a pile of rocks he had passed just before a large clearing in the forest. And there they were. He exhaled coolly, hoping he won't end up in some fight. His hand touched it. It was cold. Solid. Very much like a real pile of tossed boulders. He examined the stones comprising the pile. It seemed farfetched, but Chris could faintly see humanoid features in the pile. Fascinated, he had an urge to rearrange the stack of stones and see if it uncurled to a more recognizable form, one that would determine if these were alive or not.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The air began to feel inhospitable. _Something's here, and it doesn't like me…_

"VOLCANO STRIKE!"

An incredible heat charged at him from the side, fast. He dove for the ground. In an instant a great chunk of the forest around him was reduced to ashes smoldering under the afternoon sky. Had he been late for even a second, he would've had uncomfortable burns to contend with. A gigantic monster glared at him, almost completely smothered in ebony, firm substance, its single horn forebodingly erect on its forehead. Wisps of smoke escaped its open maw; it salivated with murderous intent. "A human!" It had an astonished tone to it, but the very fact that the monster _spoke_ astounded Christopher.

_Well, that's a surprise._

There was no time for awe or discourse. The prehistoric beast had a slight semblance to a triceratops. It glowered at Christopher with emerald eyes, before charging at him with its four Herculean legs, intending to use its great horn to impale him. "I **kill** you!"

The woman in green flashed in his mind. A rather particular smirk was pasted on her face. He couldn't forget it. Shaking off the memory, Chris reached for the bar of metal in his coat pocket. He held it in his right hand, like a weapon. _No choice._ "Restoration," he murmured, whipping the stick rightwards. This small "stick" extended into a spatha. Though its hilt and crossguard were dark gray, the long blade was a hundred-percent black.

He endured the throbbing pain on his abdomen. _I'm safe as long as I finish this quickly. _Chris poised himself for a counter-maneuver as the beast approached, its lance aimed at his heart. "SLAMMING ATTACK!" it yelled. His eyes narrowed. _Bring it!_

* * *

_What Daisuke is doing for me? But he's, he's in the Real World. And I… _

Veemon clenched his fist. He slowly opened his mouth. "I… don't know," he said. "I haven't... I haven't seen him in three years." Golemon was smiling. He was going to win this argument.

"But!" exclaimed the Digimon of Miracles. "I still believe in Daisuke! I always will!"

Golemon began to shake his head, beginning to speak when their debate was interrupted by a faint voice from above, panicked. "Golemon, Lord Veemon! What the **hell** are you two doing? TWO GRENADES LANDED RIGHT BELOW YOU!" Both monsters glanced down, finding the pair of brown orbs sitting right at their feet.

"Oh noes!" the blue dragon shrieked, breaking off into a run. But it was too late. Orange light erupted from the balls, accompanied by intense heat. Veemon closed his eyes, certain he would be deleted.

The heat remained, but it wasn't as hot as he had first felt it. _What happened? _He opened his eyes slowly. Scarlet eyes stared at Veemon's own; a black face plate made contact with the golden 'V' shaped mark on his forehead. The monster cringed as he sniffed a noisome odor. Then he realized it was Golemon's mouth, from which a weak voice escaped. "Always so trusting, eh, Lord Veemon?" The golem chuckled. "Guess there's no use trying to change a Chosen, after all…"

"Did you just—?"

Golemon disappeared, dissipating into colorful particles that spread into the sky, leaving only Veemon and a patch of scorched rock and soil. To think one of the Adults, the few digimon that could _possibly_ make a difference in this battle, had been destroyed in a second, and in Veemon's place to boot. "G-go… golemon?"

"Whoa, the Chosen survived!" Veemon turned towards the voice. His face met a swift kick. Recovering, he wiped the dust off his mouth, and glared at the two soldiers that Golemon had failed to kill. The lack of decoration on their shoulders was proof of their expendability: mere foot soldiers, or rather, cannon fodder.

"NYAHAHA!" one of them laughed, firing his assault rifle. "DIE, DIE, DIE!"

Feet moving as fast as they can, the blue dragon reached for the gun on his holster and—it was no longer there! Veemon blanched. _Where is it? Where is it? _The other soldier assisted his comrade, aiming _his_ rifle at the digimon and opening fire. Bullets whizzed by Veemon's ears. With his opponents attacking from two separate angles, the monster found it hard to evade most of the bullets. He had to go close, taking his chance when one of them had to reload his used clip.

"YAH!" Veemon leapt at the vulnerable soldier. Then the other soldier ditched his rifle and closed in, taking out a knife with his right. "No you **don't!**"At that word, he _kicked_ his own comrade out of Veemon's way and went for the digimon's neck as soon as possible. The blue dragon shifted his head to the left almost a second too late, bringing up his left arm and pushing the knife towards the left. The soldier, already crouching, used the strong momentum to force the knife into a circular motion going back towards Veemon, who held onto his opponent's wrist and hopped, sending a kick to the soldier's face. His foot made contact with his opponent's brown helmet, propelling the man to the side in an instant, unconscious.

At that moment, Veemon heard a 'click' from afar and found the other soldier finished with reloading his gun. Confident in his aim, the man aimed his gun at the blue dragon. Bullets followed the monster. Many missed, but others were beginning to scrape him as they sped by. "STAY STILL, SCAI!" cried his opponent. Veemon ducked behind a tree for cover, which the firearm's bullets chipped away. _If only I had my gun!_

Eyes wide open, he searched for his faithful weapon. That it was lying out in the open about ten strides away was a stroke of luck for him. Furthermore, the slope made it a bit harder for the soldiers to see where the gun was. Veemon knew the other soldier would recover in a minute or two – the combat vest surely cushioned his attack. He peeked out the other side of the tree, and retreated a moment before the bullets chipped away that side of the tree. _How many bullets do those rifles have? _

Since it'd be more dangerous if the other soldier woke up before then, Veemon made a dash for the gun. Gunfire followed his every step. _Focus everything on getting that gun_. He reached for it. _Just five more steps!_

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

Veemon bowed slightly, slowing down and then grabbing the SIG as he passed over it. Unfortunately, the slower speed enabled the other soldier to hit him on the tail. A searing pain soared in his body, as he hid behind a five-foot drop on the slope. He was hyperventilating. "Ha… Ha… My"—a deep breath—"tail!"

Keeping in mind the general direction of the rifle-toting soldier, after a few seconds of rest the digimon peeked out and fired five rounds at the man, who went prone as soon as possible. Seeing a shallow hole left behind by Golemon's Rock Toss attack, immediately Veemon rushed to it and hid there.

Panting, the blue dragon calmed himself down. The battlefield was quiet. Gunshots echoed in the distance. _Wha? What happened? _Veemon crept up the surface of the crater. _Did I get him? _In the very second the Chosen's face emerged from the crater, a small, brown ball smacked him in the face, thrown by the soldier who was now crouching.

Recovering, the digimon found the grenade lying right beside him. Since it would blow up in a few seconds, Veemon then decided to pick up the grenade and toss it right back to the soldier. "Return to sender!"

.

.

A crack resounded through the air. Veemon jumped out of the small crater. As the other man was close to him, the digimon walked up to the still-unconscious person and shot him in the arms. He cringed with every pull of the trigger. _Gotta be careful. _Turning his head towards his second opponent, Veemon found the soldier lying face down, apparently dead. His eyes widened at some horrible realization: _did I… just kill him?_

He blinked. If he really was dead then... then just how different is Veemon from the rest of the digimon? Being the partner of the Twelve's leader, then what, what would distance the Chosen from the rest? The blue dragon sauntered towards the body. _He's just out! Yeah, just out! I didn't kill him. I know I didn't!_

Reaching it, Veemon bent down, his hand going for the man's neck. _He'll have a pulse. C'mon, please have a pulse_. He brought his index and middle fingers on the base of the neck. The artery was still full of life. Veemon heaved a sigh of relief.

This respite was short-lived. No sooner had the monster lowered his guard did the "unconscious soldier" rise, so suddenly that the digimon stumbled backwards. The soldier reached for his combat knife and slashed the Chosen across the belly. "Gotcha!" the man yelled. As blood gushed out from the wound, Veemon brought forward his SIG and popped two bullets in the shoulder. Gasping, the Digimon of Miracles clutched the open wound on his stomach, pulling back his head. "VEE HEADBUTT!" His counterattack hit his opponent squarely on the bullet holes on his shoulder. The pain it caused was so agonizing the soldier screamed, collapsing.

Veemon aimed his gun at the man's other arm, shooting it once, cringing. The blue dragon sat down some distance from the moaning soldier, taking out his medical supplies and started dressing the wound, cleaning it with antiseptic first before closing it with liquid bandage. The fresh pain made it difficult.

"Why…" he heard the man croak, "Why, did you let… let us live?"

The digimon said nothing.

"You SCAIs just want to kill us, right?" he continued. "Kill us because we're weak? Because of all the crap we did after the Revelation?"

.

"Why! Why keep the two of us alive? That golem thing would've crushed us! I almost deleted you! Aren't you Chosen just the strongest among—"

"Idiot!" exclaimed Veemon. His voice was heavy in emotion. "Digimon and people _can_ be friends! I can't just kill you! Just because we're the strongest _doesn't_ mean we're like the others!"

The soldier grimaced.

"Don't forget that," the Chosen muttered angrily.

* * *

The spatha hit the ground with a _thunk_. Christopher focused his weight on the sword, using it as support. The beast was dead, its lifeless body disintegrating into small particles. The pain had strengthened. He was palpitating. His vision was blurry. Chris staggered as he knelt. Without any words on his part, the black sword shrunk into its compact form, which was stowed in the blond's pocket. "God, I won't last another battle like that!"

Since his pyrrhic victory, the golden orbs watching him had disappeared. _Were they living things after all?_ The body was half-gone. _Maybe they were scouts of some sort_. Christopher pushed himself up and stood, dropping a bit, although otherwise alright. The spire was up ahead. There was a hill of stone leading up to a level area that would bring him to the peak of the mountain. He could barely see it, but he was quite certain he saw a cave in the middle of the trees dotting his destination. A well-needed rest was in order.

Trudging slowly towards the summit, Chris avoided staying close to the side where sounds of battle emanated from. Still, his condition was making his trek difficult. Often, he had to stop and rest for ten minutes. _This better be worth it_, the blond thought. _Can't have her finding me as soon as she catches up._

* * *

"Lord Veemon!"

Veemon heard someone call his name. The voice was familiar, belonging to the one who warned him and Golemon earlier. Its owner was swiftly descending the Spire.

"Lord Veemon!" it yelled again.

Glancing upwards, he saw a Commandramon running up to him. The digimon resembled a small Tyrannosaurus Rex, clad in navy blue military armor, complementing the blue camouflage he appeared to be soaked in. "I ran as I could, Lord Veemon!" Commandramon slung an M4 rifle around his shoulder. "Sorry I couldn't protect you from these two humans." He surveyed the area, assessing their safety. "I'll finish them off for you," he said, raising his claw. "You never kil—"

"Wait-wait-wait-wait-WAIIIIT!" cried the blue dragon. "They can't do anything! Everything's O-K!"

"…They killed Golemon and cut you up. That is _not_—"

"I'm still alive right?" Veemon blurted. He needed the good spirits actually; the pain was unbearable, especially when he tried to walk. Thanks to the hardened liquid bandage, he only looked fine on the surface. "So why don't we… uhm…. Uhhh… you…" Veemon began to keel, "help me out here?"

Commandramon sighed. "Alright." He went to the blue dragon's side, assisted him up, and let Veemon lean on him as the two walked upwards.

.

.

"Uhm, Commandramon?" the Chosen asked after traversing about 100 meters. "We're going _up_?" The military dinosaur nodded. But Veemon found it odd. Weren't the monsters below holding their own just now?

"I don't get it," Veemon said. He gave his companion a puzzled look as Commandramon had the Chosen lean on a rock, climbing up first, and grabbed the digimon by the hand. "Commandramon"—he was lifted up, then was made to lean on the dinosaur as they continued upwards—"Shouldn't we stay down there?"

He looked straight into the monster's orange eyes. Commandramon set Veemon down by a small bush. "Lord Veemon, look at the Spire."

The other two tanks have begun assisting the grunts attacking the Mushroomon and Elecmon. With Golemon gone, the line of defense has lost its artillery. Some humans, though few in number, were breaking through their defenses. Though a number of them went ahead, a good portion decided to circle around the digimon and flank them. If that was not enough, the tanks were aiming at the groups causing the most trouble for their men, shooting at the monsters, **despite** the proximity of their own comrades. Veemon was horrified to see their operators' complete disregard for their allies.

Leaning forward, Commandramon whispered, "That happens when you have too many grunts: the strong and smart stand on the weak and stupid."

Pointing to a group of three that acted like commandos, charging toward an agile Elecmon with rifles blazing, "Look at those three." Commandramon pointed at one of the two tanks. "And pay close attention to that." Veemon, obeying, watched the tank slowly realign its barrel towards the three humans and the single digimon they were fighing. The Chosen could barely see another soldier hidden behind the Elecmon, remaining immobile. _Did he see the tank too? _

His ears jerked as a loud bang thundered in the air. In an instant, the targeted area was set aflame by a great explosion. The three soldiers were burnt to a crisp. Elecmon was badly injured, but otherwise alright. Then the hidden man appeared, shooting the digimon in the head, deleting him.

"El-Elecmon!" the Chosen gasped.

"See what I mean, Lord Veemon?" said the military dinosaur. "Without Golemon, this operation's over." He directed his finger at a large group gathering a mile or two from the foot of the Spire. "And they have a camp there, too, where the humans have plenty more grunts _and_ the veterans we haven't seen yet."

"But what about Monochromon?" Veemon barked. "Or the Guardromon?"

"Monochromon has to keep escape route secure no matter what. For the Guardromon, those tanks got anti-missile systems and armor made laser-resistant through modifications using digital energy," responded Commandramon. "Don't tell me you forgot the Satellite Base's short on hands right now."

"Errr…"

"Wait. You **were** listening during the briefing earlier, were you?"

"…uhm…. Nope."

Commandramon smacked himself in the face. "Lord Veemon, just **why** is someone like you a Chosen in the first place?"

Veemon shrugged. "Maybe because I bring good luck?" He grinned. "I saved the guys twice, you know." He was referring to battles that were now a part of the Digital World's history: the struggle against Kimeramon, and against BelialVamdemon, with Veemon as Magnamon and Imperialdramon.

"…so puerile and naïve," his voice trailed.

"But I'm liked that way!" laughed the blue dragon. Commandramon was speechless. He groaned the second Veemon asked about the meaning of 'puerile' moments later.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the camp set up at the base of the Spire, a pair of binoculars scoured the mountain for one particular digimon. The search was timed at thirty minutes so far, and still running. Though there were only about 40 monsters or so, the vegetation was a bit thick, and the afternoon sun made it difficult to find the target.

Now, most of the grunts have been massacred and replaced just as easily. The big guns had to be brought in – the tanks, one of which was destroyed by a giant boulder. APC's carrying the veterans began to deploy their passengers on the foot of the mountain. Surely the remaining monsters left no longer have a chance of winning.

Then there he was, a single creature of the brightest blue. It fought against two of the grunts, at first, but eventually defeated one, though he got cut in the process. Green eyes peered into the binoculars. "Target sighted," said the user.

Scopes were set down. The man behind the instrument glanced at a soldier beside him, clad in a dark blue battle dress just as he was. Color, however, was not the only thing that distinguished them from the grunts _and_ the seasoned veterans' camouflage uniforms. Unlike those soldiers, they wore _no_ helmets. Further separating them from the rest were thin, rectangular devices resembling iPods secured to their right wrists by metallic, catch-lock instruments on the base of their palms.

"Confirm identity," replied the other. His hair was ginger, puffy and curly similar to a Jewfro. His respondent, the scout, sported a military cut, hair color probably black. His skin was brown, but his face showed signs of Japanese descent. Twisting some knobs and tinkering with small, inch-sized computer monitors on the binoculars, which were actually quite bulky in size, the scout had a nanocomputer process the images it saw, particularly that of the small, blue creature.

An empty green-lined rectangle appeared on the little screen, gradually gaining color. The progress bar filled the entire shape in mere seconds, the results of which were examined at by the scout. "Colonel Reeves," he said, "target confirmed to be Veemon, a SCAI bearing the power of Miracles. Described to be among the strongest of the Twelve, equal in power to Agumon. Human partner is—"

"Aldo, we know. No need to say everything."

"But Colonel—"

Reeves rolled his eyes. "ZIP IT! Just give me the Veemon's current stats and shut up."

"He got slashed by one of the grunts across the belly." Aldo looked into the binoculars again. "Still alive, but probably too weak to fight. He's currently being assisted by a Commandramon to the peak," he reported, afterwards mumbling, "Asshole."

"Good. We can still catch up to him," Reeves replied. "And I _heard_ that, you newb. You may be a Modifier like me and Lucy, but for this operation, you're _both_ under **me**."

"Whatever," Aldo snapped. "Just because you've been ranked higher… jackass."

The Colonel gave Aldo the finger. Before he could respond in kind, a shrill voice stopped them.

"HEY!" Both Aldo and Reeves turned towards the voice, its owner a woman who grew her hair to the shoulder blade level and dyed it yellow. She was clad in the same garments they were, though her device was on her left wrist, rather than the right. She was Lucille Diaz, the final and **only** female member of the Modifiers. Though two notches lower than Reeves' stature, she was eminent for her exceptional flexibility on the field. "Oh," she said, noticing Aldo. "So we got another newbie!" Lucy eyed the binoculars hanging from a strap on his neck. "And a scout, too! So, where's the little runt?"

"Considerable distance from the peak," replied Aldo. "Accompanied by a Commandramon. They seem to be heading to that line of trees just below the summit, ma'am Lucille." He said her name with much respect, even more so than the man called Reeves.

"Mmmhm!" Lucy approached Aldo. "You know, you can call me Lucy. And you are?" She was smiling.

Aldo haphazardly scrambled to salute her. "A-a-aldo ma'am—err, Lucy! Aldo Kikuchi!"

She chuckled. "You're pretty odd for a Jap," she remarked. "Never seen one with black skin."

"Mom's American," came Aldo's curt reply. His tone had relaxed.

Lucille Diaz nodded, turning to Col. Reeves. "Where're Junko and Ivy? Aren't they with us on this operation?"

Retorting, "They're both training more newbs like Aldo over here. I think they're more promising than this loser here, though." Aldo sent Reeves a furious glare, which he ignored. "Guess having four wasn't enough for Yamaki."

"Maybe," Lucy agreed. "Anyway, so what's the plan?" She crossed her arms. "_You_'re the leader of this operation."

Reeves's gaze shifted to Aldo for a moment. "Aldo, survey the area above Veemon and tell us what you find."

"…Roger that."

.

.

"Anything?"

"It's hard to say." Aldo's fingers deftly calibrated the settings of his binoculars. "Well, I can barely see some SCAI's camouflaged on the rocks above them."

"Level, and how many?"

"Can't tell, Reeves. But I think—"

"It's **Colonel** to you." Reeves had a smug look on his face as he spoke.

"Goddammit," cursed the black Japanese. "_Colonel_, I think those tangos are Champions."

"Champions?" Lucy had blurted. She was somewhat surprised. "I thought Golemon was the only one in this battle."

"Honor guards, maybe?" Aldo conjectured. "Other than that, I got _no_ idea why they weren't sent to the front lines like those mushrooms and rabbits."

"Either way," began Reeves, "that'd give our target additional protection."

"So you have a plan?" Lucille inquired.

A smirk formed on the Colonel's face. "I thought you'd never ask…"

* * *

"Hey, Commandramon."

"Can't we just save them?"

"Them?"

"You know, the Mushroomon and Elecmon." Veemon felt uncomfortable leaving the digimon behind. "I don't like it, just you and me and the Guardromon running away."

"I don't like it either," the military dinosaur concurred. "But they're as good as deleted," he reasoned. "With all those grunts down there, even if we _do_ show up **with** the four Guardromon, we'll all end up dead when the vets show up."

"What's so bad about the Vets? They're used to fighting, but that's it, right? I'm kinda like a Vet, too! So," Veemon gyrated in his spot and started on his descent, "Let's just turn back now and save the mons down there!"

An exasperated sigh escaped Commandramon. He shook his head, catching Veemon by the shoulder. "Lord Veemon, STOP! Don't you **get** **it**? The veterans are _why_ we're running!"

"H-Huh?"

"They got weapons and armor designed to weaken digimon," he explained. "Stuff they used to delete Perfects, even if it meant the deaths of countless grunts."

Veemon remained silent. The whole situation really _was_ hopeless, after all.

"So what do we do then?" The Chosen argued. "We can't just leave them behind!"

"Just think of it as their noble sacrifice," answered the military dinosaur, a little frustrated.

Glaring at Commandramon's orange eyes, a single word escaped the blue dragon's mouth. "**NO**!"

The military dinosaur blinked.

"I'm going down there RIGHT NOW" Veemon shrugged off Commandramon's hand and went on his way. "I can't leave them behind!"

Commandramon responded in the only way he knew how: giving Veemon a strong smack to the back of the head with his trusty M4. He fell immediately. "Uh buhhhhh," groaned the digimon, dazed.

"Idiot!" coughed Commandramon, hauling Veemon up on his shoulder like a bag.

* * *

"Finally!"

Chrisopher, at last, was at the Spire. Though he had seen the cave, out of curiosity, he sidetracked to the edge of the thick forest, following cautiously the rock that was the base of the summit. The slope fell drastically, and Chris could see the vast scenery awaiting him. A scenery that appalled the man—two tanks were at the very bottom, firing away at what appeared to be a cluster of men gathering around something that, well, wasn't so human. A cerulean creature climbed the mountain slowly, carrying some kind of bag on its shoulder, a bag of the brightest blue. Or maybe it was a creature as well, injured from a battle with the men below?

Liabilities and unnecessary danger, these factions were. He remembered the beast that had attacked him. There was no reason to doubt the war between men and "monsters" unfolding right before his goldenrod eyes. He nearly died defending himself from one of _them_, though it was not as much as the battle as his injury. Chris resigned into the thick fauna, retreating to the cave. Rest was imperative, but so was refuge.

The circular mouth of the cave opened into a long passageway. Already the sun was setting, and if it was anything like the Earth, it would be twilight in an hour or two. Light had no trouble making its way into the cave. In fact, it was well-lit. If anyone could call _dim_ well-lit. But Christopher had no problem, feeling his way along the wall, his eyes unnaturally receptive to light.

Breaking into a voluminous chamber, Christopher spied a hole on the very top of the ceiling, which towered high above him. Apparently the very peak of the spire was somewhat hollow. Pity the climber who would fall into the cave by accident. A mound rising in the very center of the hollow would await him.

There was actually _another_ hole up there, but it was larger than the one at the very top, and on top of that, closer to the floor. Signs of something breaking through what must have been thick rock were present, though _that_ probably took place years before. A feeling of safety coming over him, Christopher found a boulder beside the entrance and took his seat, relaxing at last.

He raised his left hand again. "Well," he told himself, "no harm in trying again." Chris focused on the blue gemstone. _Activate_.

Nothing happened.

Setting his arm down, fatigue took control of the man. His vision blurred. The pain on his abdomen returned, but no longer as painful as Chris slowly slipped into darkness. Eyes closing, he wondered how much blood he has lost already, and how much more he was losing. Fear of death did not grip him. Chris was quite confident of his body's natural healing.

_I'll be OK after some shut-eye._

If there was something he had to fear, it was the priestess's fate. Not even _that_ woman nor the malfunctioning of his precious device can top it.

* * *

The three Modifiers scaled the mountain with ease, exploiting the grunts that have left the Elecmon and Mushroomon overwhelmed. That, and the very fact that they were skipping about ten feet per leap. Out of the three, only Aldo Kikuchi enjoyed the climb the most.

"WOOHOO! I _loooove_ being a Modifier!"

"Dammit Aldo!" groaned Reeves. "This is an **ambush** operation! Shut the hell up! The last thing we need"—the Colonel breathed, leaping over a steep rock—"is someone like you compromising it!"

Aldo prepared a retort, but was cut short by Lucy. "He's right. Look, we need to maintain the element of surprise." She glanced at the Colonel above her. "And Colonel, leave him be. _We_ were like that once." Blue lines of energy coiled around her legs as Lucy bent down, and leapt. "By the way, Aldo, any news on the grunts down there?"

The newbie ignored her, engrossed in his folly.

* * *

Weak moans escaped Veemon's muzzle as he slowly opened his eyes. "What… happened…?"

"Finally awake, Lord Veemon?" asked Commandramon.

Then it came back to him. His blue head throbbed. He felt a small bump somewhere on the back of his head. "You hit me!"

"Better that than you getting yourself killed down there like an idiot."

Veemon remained silent, opting to instead grace the digimon below with his glance. He looked away the moment he watched two Mushroomon disappear into oblivion. Ten were left, or at least the Chosen thought. _I'm sorry._

Gazing up at the afternoon sky, helplessness crept up on him. As a Chosen, he was used to miracles popping out in the most desperate of situations. But where were they now? Another Mushroomon was deleted, caught in a horrific explosion. An Elecmon that survived the attack was peppered with rifle fire, deleted. Slowly the Digimon were losing their fighters. If only there was a miracle, he thought. At that, Veemon only remembered one person. _Daisuke…_

.

.

"Commandramon, can you put me down already?" He was ignored. "I won't do anything anymore! I, just got it… what you were telling me."

Some time had passed. Veemon thought his companion didn't trust his words. But before he could say a word, the military dinosaur had set the blue dragon down. "Can you walk?" he heard Commandramon utter, feeling his gloved hands run across the slash wound he got from the human earlier. It wasn't bleeding, but it was more painful than it looked.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," said Veemon. He took a step, and fell instantly. The bullet in his tail scrambled his body's sense of balance. "Ehrm…"

The military dinosaur held and supported the Chosen.

"Just how close are we to the summit?" asked Veemon, no longer looking at the Spire of Courage.

A chuckle escaped Commandramon. "Ask the Guardromon."

Veemon glanced at four digimon resting idly, camouflaged in plain sight. Covered in rust-colored iron, their bodies were stout and humanoid, a shut valve on the center of their torsos. Vents of pale gold were installed on their sides. The Chosen swore he saw faint wisps of steam escape from it as the Guardromon stretched its thick forearms—each one capable of churning out one missile per second, an ability Veemon had tried to figure out, especially when he noticed that _nothing_ didn't seem to jut out of their arms whenever they did that. Two of the Guardromon stared at the fighting below, while the other two had their eyes directed at the Spire and a large hole that scarred the summit.

Best of all, the Guardromon had been positioned two kilometers away from the escape route just beneath the peak. With their presence, a relieved smile formed on Veemon's face. He was in the safest position on the mountain for the next few hours. "Heeeeey Guardromon!" the Chosen called, waving.

Lowering their guard, the four androids rose and shifted their pale emerald eyes at Veemon. One of them marched down, giving Veemon a gaze that anticipated an order of sorts.

"We're," Veemon hesitated, "We're pulling out."

"What's the status on our escape route?" inquired his companion. He knew Veemon wasn't likely to ask it.

"Better to play it safe," Veemon heard him mutter. He ignored it. Commandramon was far more tactical than he ever was. In most of his battles, all he did was charge hotheadedly at his opponent with whatever he and Daisuke could muster.

"The Gotsumon," the robot responded with its digitized voice, "reported a human appearing directly behind us."

"A HUMAN?" both Veemon and Commandramon gasped, shocked. It was impossible! The Spire of Courage was a mountain situated in the very middle of a line of vertical **cliffs**. The only way up was to either scale the cliffs, which was risky **and **time-consuming, or climb the Spire guarded by Veemon's company. It was perplexing. The Chosen pressed on, "And, and?" He was anxious to hear the news. A human just emerging out of the blue was not only unheard of, but also potentially destructive to the plan.

"Monochromon was sent to personally assess the human's presence, Lord Veemon."

Veemon did not like the sound of that. Since the onset of the War, most, if not all, digimon despised every person unrelated to the Chosen Children. He sighed, disappointed. The blue dragon wanted to know how he got there in the first place.

"When did Monochromon go there?" the Chosen asked.

"Thirty minutes ago."

_Definitely dead now._

.

.

"LORD VEEMON!" shouted some panicked voices coming from the area above them. "WE'RE SCREWED!"

The entire group ogled a group of six horned humanoid digimon made of pure rock sliding down the Spire of Courage. Their yellow eyes gleamed with fright. _What's going on? _

"Commandramon! Lord Veemon!" A Gostumon exclaimed, overtaking the group. "We're screwed! SCREWED I SAY!"

"Gotsumon, calm down, will you?" Veemon butted in. The monster was palpitating; his golden pupils dilated. "What happened? Where's Monochromon? Didn't he kill the human yet?"

"Hu-hu-human?" the Gotsumon repeated. "That guy… that guy **ain't** human!"

A second Gotsumon stopped beside him. "YEAH!" he concurred. "H-he, he… he!" The remaining four had arrived, and they were just as panicky, or even more so – these four were utterly speechless.

"Ugh!" the Chosen growled, frustrated, vigorously rubbing the V-shaped mark on his forehead. "Calm down and **tell us!**"

"M-mo-mo," the first Gotsumon stammered. "M-monoch-ch-chro-chromon got… t-t-taken out!"

"Say **what!**" Even Commandramon was stunned.

One of the other four Gotsumon had regained his composure. "Monochromon got taken out by that human, Lord Veemon!"

"He had a gun and a staff," reported the second. "But he just whipped a sword straight out of his coat and faced Monochromon! He just placed the blade in front of him like this"—the Gotsumon stood straight and placed his clenched fist in front of his torso, as if holding a cup of coffee—"and-I-don't-know-what-happened-next! Everything was just too fast!"

"He even noticed us!" cried a third, panting. "We were spying on him in the forest, but then he CAME TO ME! **CAME. TO. ****ME****.**"

"SHIT!" cursed Commandramon, kicking a tree. It was the very first time Veemon had heard him say that.

"Wait!" interjected Veemon. "What about the human? What happened to him?"

"Uhh, he was wounded pretty badly," the first Gotsumon stated, now calmer.

The Chosen grinned, patting one of the Gotsumon's backs. "Then we don't have to—"

"Lord Veemon," interrupted the fourth, "he had them **before** he killed Monochromon."

An astounded silence ruled the conversation before Veemon's abrupt ejaculation cut it short. "No way!" He just couldn't believe it. "Monochromon's an Adult!" he reasoned. "He can't be beaten by some sword!"

"Sorry Lord Veemon, but… Monochromon's gone. We **swear!**" All six Gotsumon concurred.

Commandramon slumped. "It's over. We're as good as dead."

"C'mon." Veemon placed his hand on the military dinosaur's shoulder. "We're still here aren't we? Don't lose courage!"

"But he's strong!" cried the first Gotsumon.

"Yeah, suuuper strong!" the others chorused.

"…you're not helping," Veemon muttered. But his words escaped them. The four Guardromon were silent. The six Gotsumon were teary-eyed, desperate, and panicky, talking to each other about the futility of it all. Commandramon was stunned, living in complete disbelief now that the escape route had been blocked off. Only Veemon remained sane. He, the Digital Half of the Child of Miracles, was the last remaining bastion of his comrades' morale – had he broken down, all would've been lost. Rarely was he given this power to command. The most recent was when? _During the battle with BelialVamdemon_, he answered himself. How could he forget? His four companions and their human halves have been trapped in the tyrant's illusions, and it normally took either his or Daisuke's help to wrest his companions' human partners from the trap.

Yes, now was one of these rare moments when mature decisions were demanded of Veemon, in contrast to the haphazard life he and Daisuke had lived out in their "Digimon Adventure". The blue dragon gazes at the Spire above. _Hey… I met Daisuke here right? Hmm…_

The memory of the past was as clear as day. It was nostalgic. Veemon at the time lived in darkness, his anticipation growing for whoever would be his partner. Then, one day, his egg – his seal – was lifted, and a bright, orange light shone upon him. When it dulled just enough for him to open his eyes, Veemon found himself in a large cave. Four children were looking at him, accompanied by three monsters, one of which had an incredible resemblance to Commandramon, despite the size and color difference. The blue dragon searched the four humans for the one who held his egg.

Then he found him: the one in an azure jacket emblazoned with flames, the one with cheap-looking goggles, the only one who didn't have a digimon with him. Euphoria rising in his chest, Veemon exploded from the light, happily bouncing around the boy. "Woohoo!" he was shouting. "You moved the Digimental!" He stopped moments later and tendered his hand. "I'm Veemon! Who're you?"

"…D-dai… Daisuke," stuttered the child.

"Nice to meet you, Daisuke!"

Veemon carefully reviewed the contents of the memory, scanning it for anything relevant. Breaking off, he accosted one of the Guardromon. "How many digimon are left?"

"We're the only ones remaining," it replied. "The rest," the android continued, "are down the Spire, being massacred."

_We can't do anything about them, sadly._

"The enemy! Anybody coming up here?"

"None so far, Lord Veemon."

The Chosen turned to the Gotsumon, stumbling towards them. Curse the bullet lodged in his tail. _Next time I'm going to be more careful with it. _"Where did the human go _after_ he deleted Monochromon?" Silent, they shook their heads. None of them knew. Veemon figured they ran the second Monochromon lost.

He gathered the information readily: the Digimon below were likely to be killed in the next thirty minutes, there's a lone human somewhere above them, strong enough to kill an Adult despite, as Veemon presumed, fatal wounds, and the setting of this battle was the Spire of Courage, the place where he first met Daisuke. Or at the very least, behind it.

After some pondering, a brilliant grin came to his face. "Guys! We can still get out of this!" he said it as cheerfully as he could. "So let's just go up!"

Commandramon angrily rejoined Veemon. "Have you forgotten about that ONE human up there?"

"But he's wounded, isn't he?"

The Gotsumon retorted. "He'd kill us all anyway!"

"Look, Lord Veemon," spoke Commandramon. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, this is the place where I first met my partner."

"So?"

"We were in a _cave_ back then."

"Mhmm…" all the digimon had their eyes on Veemon.

"Don't you think he'll hide there 'cause he's wounded and all?"

Commandramon blinked. Hope returned to him. "I get it! If we avoid that cave, there's a good chance we'll get out of here alive!"

"Yup, yup!" Veemon smiled. That was the best idea he had yet.

The military dinosaur sauntered to the Chosen and let Veemon lean on him. "Then let's go!" he clamored. "We've got two kilometers to the escape route!"

* * *

"Target sighted," Aldo spoke into his earpiece, keeping about two to three jumps ahead of the Colonel and Lucille. He watched the Commandramon walk to Veemon's side and assist.

_"Then let's go! We've got two kilometers to the escape route!"_

"Your orders, Colonel?" he heard Lucille ask from _her_ earpiece.

Aldo poised himself on a tree branch just above the group, readying his assault rifle, an FN SCAR. Cocking it, he aimed the gun at the two blue digimon, steadying his shaky grip. Lucille and Reeves caught up with the group, and split themselves accordingly.

"Mission start," said the Colonel.

Aldo Kikuchi, nervously, grinned. "Roger that."

The group of twelve had barely walked fifty meters when gunshots rang in the air from three different angles. Bullets would've peppered Veemon in the face had Commandramon failed to drop immediately to prone, dragging the Chosen down with him. "An ambush!" bellowed the military dinosaur. "HOW?" He glanced at the other digimon with him. Two of the Gotsumon were deleted by the assault. One of the Guardromon had some holes in his armor from defending the remaining four.

Veemon moaned. Pain shot up in his right leg. He glanced at it, and found blood seeping out of a hole he received from a bullet. "Waaahhh! MY LEG!"

The blue dragon watched Commandramon applied pressure on the wound and taped a gauze pad on top of the wound immediately. "It'll do for the time being," said his companion.

Three humans appeared. One from their left, skin color a deep brown. One from their rear left, a woman whose hair was _obviously_ dyed yellow. One from their right, a man with red, spiky hair. The uniforms they wore were different from the other soldiers. The devices attached to their wrists were ominous and strange. "Caution, everyone!" Commandramon warned. "These aren't regular soldiers!"

"How'd they catch up to us?" cried a Gotsumon.

The Guardromon were just as astonished. "They never showed up in the thermal scanners!"

Veemon could barely chuckle. "S-so," he panted. "What's your, what's… what's your secret?"

The red-haired man smirked. Ostensibly he was the leader of the three. "Great deduction there, Commandramon," he replied. "But we didn't come here for you." He pointed a finger straight at the blue dragon. "We came all the way here to kill **Veemon**."

Instantly, Commandramon cursed. "Shit!" He stood up, grabbed his rifle, and aimed it at the red-haired. "Protect Lord Veemon," he ordered. "And **RUN FOR IT!**"

One of the Gotsumon grabbed Veemon and, heaving him on his rocky back, sped towards the Spire, flanked by two Guardromon, leaving behind Commandramon's group to fight the assailants.

Commandramon moved swiftly, snatching a pipebomb from his waist. His skin gradually turned crimson to match the Spire's rock. "DCD Bomb!" he yelled, chucking it at the red-haired.

* * *

Colonel Reeves was impressed by the group's dichotomization. Commandramon had been the most responsive, throwing a grenade seconds after their appearance. The Colonel undid the catch on the base of his right palm, flipping the iPod-shaped device to his hand.

The screen shone brightly, displaying with eminence the word "MODIFICATION".

Blue lines of energy snaked the Colonel's legs and fists; Commandramon's DCD bomb erupted into a scarlet explosion and disintegrated the area around Reeves.

Colonel Reeves reappeared high above Commandramon's group, fist poised to strike as he fell.

* * *

Commandramon was in awe. Somehow the device enabled him to evade the explosion, and now he descended in freefall. The military dinosaur sidestepped. A second later the red-haired crashed into the ground with his fist, causing a deep crater. It unnerved the digimon and his comrades. _If I didn't move…!_

The man recovered easily, as if the impact was nothing to him. "We're not done yet, bastard! D-Modify!" Blue lines enveloped his legs once more. With a speed unnatural for humans he charged.

One of the Gotsumon cut in front of the military dinosaur, aiming his horns at the man. "You're not deleting any of us! ANGRY ROCK!" The stones that formed his horns shot out of the Gotsumon's head, and many more replaced it and were consequently jettisoned again and again and again. Dust clouds gathered on their impact points.

Their red-haired opponent leaped and landed on the lone Gotsumon with accuracy and gravity, deftly evading his attacks. Commandramon yelled, brandishing his M4 and shot at the man with his gun at the hip. Obviously Gotsumon's body can withstand the bullets.

But before Commandramon could even pull the trigger, the gap between him and the red-haired was closed in an instant. He heard a chuckle slither out of his lips. _He can see me!_

"Shi—!" Commandramon felt a robust leg on his snout, knocking him airborne. The helmet had saved him from unconsciousness, but the pain throbbed. The military dinosaur rolled as he fell to the ground, using the momentum to rise up and counter, but his gun jammed and he was forced to seek cover to fix the problem. "Guardromon, back me up here!"

Then he saw the androids in combat with the black soldier. _Damn this is bad…_

* * *

Veemon was dumbstruck. "They **have** digivices?"

"These aren't the digivices _you_ know," uttered the female soldier in pursuit, undoing the catch on the base of her palm. "D-Modify!" Strokes of blue energy circled around her legs, increasing her leg strength tenfold. She began leaping towards them at an alarming rate, brandishing her FN SCAR—armed with a grenade launcher module—and unloaded her clip. "**DIE**, CHOSEN!"

"GAH!" Veemon seized his sidearm. Gotsumon began to run frantically. Veemon struggled on his back for a clear shot. Quivering, he pulled the trigger several times. She skipped left and right, dodging all his shots with ease. _She's fast… WAY too fast!_

Then the woman began following them on tree branches. She held her digivice out. "D-Modify!" she screamed. Blue energy gathered round her gun, coiling, coalescing into a silver add-on to her desert-colored rifle. She aimed her weapon at Veemon's group. "BLUE THUNDER!"

A small metal ball cradled in amethyst light escaped the rifle's module. It approached them at a terrifying speed. Veemon felt tickling on his skin. _Electricity! _His eyes widened, as he fired at the lighting-based projectile. _Can't let it hit!" _Suddenly his gun was neutered—he must reload. "Of **all** the times!"

"DESTRUCTION GRENADE!" The Guardromon on his left flank had raised its arms at the woman, sending four missiles at her. One of them miraculously intercepted with the projectile she had launched, but the little ball exploded into a mass of purple lightning, scrambling the other missiles' homing system. They collided with each other, creating an even brighter explosion.

* * *

Commandramon was perplexed. How were their digivices used? The Chosen Children never used theirs like that! They only used it to evolve their partners, nothing more. His helmet broken, he tossed it aside. Now he looked more like a real dinosaur. In pain, he coughed out some blood.

The red-hair sneered. "I bet you're wondering what these are," he stated matter-of-factly. He held the iPod-like device for all to see. "We got these from reverse-engineering the Chosen Children's digivices, and we tweaked them so they allow us to **modify** the physics of the Digital World."

He understood. "So," said the military dinosaur, "instead of evolving the monsters, you 'evolve' yourselves?"

"For now, yes," answered the man. Assuming that the conversation dropped his opponent's guard lightly, Commandramon seized his rifle and opened fire, but was interrupted again by a nimble kick that sent the weapon flying. "Since everything entering this world is converted to data," he continued, "that means humanity is on the verge of revising the very limits that bound humanity in the Real World!"

His digivice shone. "D-Modify!" Blue energy coalesced into metal plates attached on the red-haired's right hand. "YAARRGGHHH!"

"I won't fall so easily!" Commandramon roared, raising his clawed hands. "STRIKE CLAW!"

The attacks clashed, ending with a stalemate.

* * *

Aldo Kikuchi's opponents were two Guardromon. They were the only Adults in both groups and he knew killing these would contribute significantly to their victory. Though he felt it unfair that Lucille had taken the initiative to pursue Veemon. He tossed a grenade at the two as he opened fire. But the Guardromon, their armor protecting them, fired a red laser from their green eyes. "WARNING LASER!" they cried. One intercepted the grenade, and the other targeted the scout.

"D-Modify!" Aldo yelled, speeding up. He avoided the laser, and went up the tree, jumping off into a somersault above the explosion, and above his opponents. The _Warning Laser_ couldn't keep up with him. "D-Modify!" he clamored again, blue energy assimilating on the rifle's barrel, blackening and lengthening it.

He opened fire on one of the Guardromon. The bullets now _pierced_ the digimon's armor, causing the android to explode violently. _One down_. Aldo, upon landing, leapt out of the way immediately—the second Guardromon had raised its arms. "DESTRUCTION GRENADE!" Missiles sped towards Aldo. Given that the short distance between him and the digimon, interception was _not_ an option.

Ducking behind a rock, Aldo reloaded his rifle. His brief respite was cut off by a _Warning Laser_ that made a hole in the rock beside his head. _The cover doesn't help!_ He jumped out of the other side and fired three rounds, but missiles exploded on the ground before him, messing with his bullets' trajectory as well as his aim. Apparently this Guardromon figured out direct combat was dangerous and likely to get himself killed like the other.

"Smart move," Aldo mumbled, flipping the digivice to his hand. "But not enough! D-Modify!"

* * *

One of the Gotsumon snuck behind Colonel Reeves and attempted to knock him out with a fist to the base of the skull. Reeves saw it coming from his peripheral vision and, reacting, relinquished the strength in his right arm and sidestepped. Commandramon fell down, surprised; the soldier grabbed the dinosaur by the snout and threw him towards his attacker.

Then a _second_ Gotsumon appeared and landed a punch on his belly. "HARDEST PUNCH!" The Colonel cursed in agony as the newcomer leapt and prepared to crack open his skull with a midair, turning side-kick. With no time to modify, Reeves blocked it with his left arm. The blow was strong enough to send him flying.

Recovering seconds later, Colonel Reeves seethed. His left arm was broken, but otherwise he was okay. "You guys piss me off!" He undid the catch on his device.

"Your arm's broken!" cried Commandramon, dashing to the Colonel. "Now's my chance! STRIKE CLAW!"

"D-Modify!"

* * *

"BLUE THUNDER!" Lucille cried, firing another grenade. She noted a drastic slowdown in the group's progress during her attacks, and so she jumped faster and faster along the tree branches, until she had overtaken the Chosen, firing grenades every few seconds.

Placing herself between Veemon and his group's escape route, she fully reloaded the rifle. By the time she was finished, the four digimon appeared from below. "D-Modify!" she cried, modifying the carrying capacity of her rifle and creating many more grenades for continuous firing. _It'll drain the battery fast, but at least I'll keep them pinned down._

Launching one grenade after another, Veemon's group had ceased any progress towards the line of trees a kilometer behind Lucille. The two Guardromon were too preoccupied with intercepting the many grenades and the lightning that branched out with every explosion.

She watched Veemon appear from the side of a rock and open fire. "So that's where he is," she muttered. Lucy ducked behind a thick tree to avoid his shots and blindly fired two grenades at his direction.

* * *

"Lord Veemon, what now?"

Gotsumon had set him down beside a large boulder when the yellow-haired overtook them and literally set up a lightning barricade using _her_ digivice. Veemon figured the digivice was running on some power source to fuel her modifications. It made sense that way: even the Chosen Children had their limitations. But how much longer must they endure this worsening situation before the battery failed on her?

"We're almost there," Gotsumon complained. "But if we try to push forward, we're dead!"

Veemon leaned out of the boulder and sent five bullets whistling towards the woman, retreating at once with a hope they didn't miss. "I, DON'T, KNOOOOW!" he shouted, shaking his head. Commandramon was busy. Golemon was dead. The Guardromon were preoccupied with the solid defense. "This is some pinch!"

"Why can't we ambush _her_ for once?" cried the Gotsumon.

"How can we?" the Chosen replied, distressed. "There's no way we can just charge there without getting killed! We'll have to cir—!" Veemon stopped. "Mmhmmm."

"…Lord Veemon?"

Nodding, "You just laid out the plan, Gotsumon."

* * *

Colonel Reeves evaded Commandramon's swipe, grabbed his outstretched arm, and gave the dinosaur a jab to the shoulder with his left hand, breaking the joint. His opponent could barely stand up. "H-how?"

Commandramon's orange eyes gazed at the Colonel's left arm, immersed in blue energy. "That's right, you freak," said Reeves. "I modified my natural healing. I told you, my digivice can—"

"HARDEST PUNCH!" Reeves saw the Gotsumon jump at him, desperate to save his comrade.

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "Pathetic." He ducked out of the way and, turning round, counterattacked by—he caught Commandramon picking up his gun from the side. Apparently, Reeves forgot he was close to the M4 rifle.

"Dammit!" He undid the catch, "D-Modify!" escaping from the military dinosaur's aim, crouching behind a rock. "Time to end this, you little freaks," he whispered, getting a rifle from his back. It was a Japanese model, the Howa Type 89.

* * *

"Okay, if we retreat a little back down," whispered Veemon, "I bet we can find some part of the forest on this slope that's thick enough for us to hide in when we circle around her!"

"Won't she follow us down there?"

He shrugged. "Nah. The Guardromon are keeping her busy."

"It's perfect!"

"Uhhh," croaked Gotsumon. "L-Lo-Lord Vee-Veemon?"

"I know, right?" Veemon smirked. He _rarely_ gets good ideas. That fact made him _very_ happy.

"Yeah! You'll definitely catch her off-guard!"

"Lord V-Vee…"

"That's the idea!" He glanced at Gotsumon. "Don't you agree, Gotsumon?" The rock monster was catatonic, staring upwards.

Following his gaze, he found the yellow-haired soldier standing above them. His eyes shrunk at the sight. _When did she…?._ He shook in fear, eyeing the gun barrel aimed point-blank at the little horn on his face. "G-g-g, guard, guardromon?"

"…help," he whimpered.

"Too bad I'm already here," uttered the woman. "D-Modify." The module on her grenade launcher turned auburn. "Goodbye, _Lord_ Veemon."

"FIRE ROCKET." And she pulled the trigger.

* * *

Commandramon heard the thunderous explosion. "Oh no, the Chosen!" He ran towards the other group.

"DON'T YOU DARE FORGET ME!" bellowed the red-haired, jumping out, unloading bullets at them.

His attack was cut short by the second Gotsumon, who attacked the soldier from a different angle. "ANGRY ROCK!" He spotted the attack, but was too late. Before he could redirect his weapon, seven rocks struck him on the chest and neck. His combat vest was useless.

But his black comrade had seen the soldier fall. "COLONEL REEVES!" He bellowed, bounding towards Commandramon with modified leaps. He could feel the malice.

"Just run, Gotsumon!" ordered the military dinosaur. "RUN! We must help Lord Veemon!" _If we lose Lord Veemon, Lord Stingmon and the Tactician will never let me live this down!_

* * *

Seeing the leader of the operation fall to three _Child_ level digimon was unnerving. No, preposterous!

Aldo, clouded by anger and shock, vaulted towards the three monsters. _I'll kill them! I'll effing kill them! _He readied the grenade launcher on his FN SCAR, undoing the catch. "D-Modify!"

"DESTRUCTION GRENADE!" the lone Guardromon cried, jettisoning missiles at Aldo.

"EFF YOU!" Aldo somersaulted in his next leap. Precision was his talent, and he made it count, aiming at the stationary android with his gun despite the conditions and launching multiple grenades wrapped in flames from the red module on his launcher add-on. The digital modification ensured continuous manufacture of ammunition on the spot. "FIRE ROCKET!"

The Guardromon was surrounded by intense explosions. Survival was unlikely. Finished, Aldo sent modified grenades rushing to Commandramon's group, but the circumstances made precision aim unwieldy. Darting to the Colonel's aid, Kikuchi found the rock he had used as cover earlier. But, his body was no longer near. "Colonel!" he screamed. "Where're you?"

* * *

Veemon opened his crimson eyes. He was still alive. The lone Gotsumon kicked the woman's gun barrel at the last second, diverting her aim to the Guardromon. One of them, however, had seen the woman appear right above the Chosen. But before he could do anything, the Gotsumon redirected her weapon. One of the Guardromon jumped out of the way, rolling down the slope a bit and evaded danger. The other wasn't so lucky.

Meanwhile, the woman cursed, piercing Gotsumon with fifteen bullets. Desperate, the disintegrating Gotsumon mustered all the strength he had left to **kick** the Chosen down to the last Guardromon. "Live, Lord V…"

"Gotsumon," Veemon uttered. Helplessness overpowered his heart. As he fell towards the android below, the yellow-haired pointed the rifle at Guardromon running to the blue dragon with open arms.

"NO!" he trained his SIG P239 at the woman and fired. His shots whizzed by her, but only one managed to scratch her cheek. She scowled. Veemon was caught in Guardromon's robotic arms. His armor, battered and holey, was nothing against her grenades.

"FIRE ROCKET!" roared the female soldier, enraged at the wound on her cheek. "DIE! Just **DIE**!"

Powerless, Veemon could do nothing but holster his gun. Death was inevitable; Guardromon's armor won't last against a direct hit from even _one_ grenade. He closed his eyes.

But he heard a voice behind him. "Hol… m… arm." It was Guardromon's: digitized, but weak, barely comprehensible.

* * *

Lucy was livid. **Never** in her entire battle records has she lived with a scratch on her face. But this Chosen, this accursed Veemon, had broken her in a single moment. He will pay dearly, she thought, aiming for the two digimon. "FIRE ROCKET!" she cried. "DIE! Just **DIE**

!"

She smirked. _No way he'll get out of that._ She reloaded her gun just to be sure. However, she caught sight of Veemon holding on to Guardromon's arms. "What the hell! ARE YOU SCREWING WITH ME?" Before Lucille Diaz could see what was happening, a fiery explosion consumed them both.

* * *

Commandramon watched a pillar of flame rise above them like a portentous beacon of defeat. "Lord Veemon!" he exclaimed. "Wait for us!"

"I'm not yet dead, bastard!"

"Huh?" The military dinosaur turned to see Colonel Reeves emerging from the trees beside them, his Howa 89 aimed at the group.

The two Gotsumon shrieked. "HE'S **ALIVE**?"

"Tch!" grumbled Commandramon. _Damn that digivice!_ There was nothing on the slope that provided cover. With nothing left to lose, Commandramon and one of the Gotsumon attacked, doing their best to elude the hailstorm of bullets.

"ANGRY ROCK!"

"DCD BOMB!"

* * *

Colonel Reeves hid behind a tree the moment they began counterattacking. He tossed a grenade at the group and, peeking out from the other side, pulled the trigger. Then he caught the Gotsumon pick up _his_ grenade, insert it into the hole on his head, and, "ANGRY ROCK!" Immense pressure propelled the grenade towards him. "Shit!" Reeves cursed, undoing the catch. "D-Modify!" The light from the digivice dimmed severely, but he didn't notice.

Modifying his legs, he dodged the grenade and bounded past the two to the side of another thick tree. "Now I have the range advantage!" He pulled the trigger and held it. Gotsumon received about twenty rounds before dissipating in front of Commandramon's eyes.

Before Reeves could reload, the second Gotsumon, who had hid, embraced him with its stone arms and held him in place. "Get him now, Commandramon! Don't worry about me!"

"Why you—!"

The Colonel undid the catch, "D-Modify!" and tried to break free. But he no longer had superhuman strength. He glanced at the digivice in his hand, struggling. Zero energy. The battery had been drained completely. It was the price for his reckless overconfidence. "Let me go, you motherfu—!"

Commandramon dropped his M4 and sprinted for the Colonel. "You can't escape now! STRIKE CLAW!"

Two shots rang out, killing Gotsumon immediately and catching Commandramon by the leg. Colonel Reeves found Aldo Kikuchi ten meters below, some smoke escaping his FN SCAR. The newbie sauntered to him slowly. "You're welcome, by the way."

* * *

Lucille had no idea what happened. The explosion was sure to have killed the Guardromon. But Veemon? She was so sure he was deleted. But something about Veemon hugging those huge arms bothered her.

_Did he really die?_

* * *

Veemon was still alive. The memory was still fresh. Guardromon aimed for the Spire the moment Veemon hugged his arms. "W-wa-wait a minute, Guardromon, what're you doing?" he exclaimed, bewildered.

The android's voice crackled, "…tect… Vee…"

It was insane. A violent force jetted the Chosen into the air just as an immense blast swallowed the area, engulfing both digimon. But this heat decreased as Veemon felt the wind rush at him as he flew up the Spire. His vision cleared and, gazing downwards, saw the trees and red rocks zooming past him. Cradled in his arms was a steel rocket heading straight for the Spire he and his company desperately sought.

He looked back. Everyone was gone. Commandramon, probably being slaughtered at the moment; the Gotsumon, slain; the Guardromon, dismantled; Golemon, deleted; Monochromon, murdered by some mysterious human; everyone else, massacred by grunts. "HAHAHAHA!" Veemon laughed it out. His eyes were teary. His entire world was falling apart.

There was no happy future awaiting the end of his _"Digimon Adventure"_. Daisuke had abandoned him. What else could be the reason? He's still alive, that much was true. But almost all the Chosen Children have rescinded their responsibilities to their Partners. For all Veemon knew, Daisuke Motomiya could be out there, enjoying a life free from responsibility, a life without him.

_"Tell me what your partner is doing for you." _Golemon's question echoed in his head. Tears streamed out of the blue dragon's eyes as it reverberated. _He's doing nothing! NOTHING, Golemon! But I still… I still…!_

The missile landed behind the line of trees, bursting into a small explosion.

* * *

"So what do we do with him, Colonel?" asked Aldo nonchalantly. "A shame I couldn't kill the lizard."

"NO!" cried Commandramon. "There's no way he's dead! IMPOSSIBLE!"

"Deny it as much as you want, filthy monster," Reeves replied. "But face it, we won." He looked at the slope below. The Elecmon and Mushroomon were gone. The humans took control with no effort at all. "Sooner or later, this mountain is ours."

"Won?" Aldo repeated incredulously. "Your digivice ran out of juice," he explained. "You'd be dead right now if it weren't for me."

"Shut up, newb."

Aldo rolled his eyes. "Asshole." He walked over to Commandramon, putting the gun to his face. "Do I kill him?"

.

.

"No," answered the Colonel, somewhat elated. "That last battle was exhilarating."

"Eh?" Commandramon seemed just as puzzled.

"It was an exciting one. So, I think I can let him go."

"WHAT?" Aldo blurted. "This SCAI's an elite member of the Digital Monsters! He may be a Rookie, but he's still dangerous! Do I have to say he almost **killed** you?

"Look at the bigger picture, newb. His allies will be crushed when he returns to them with that news."

"Mhmm..." Aldo nodded.

"How much energy do you have left?"

"About 50%."

Reeves blinked. "So conservative." He tendered his hand, "Okay, come here and give me half. Commandramon may be immobilized but I won't take any chances. Then you can haul your ass up there and verify Veemon's death."

"Can't we just radio Lucille?"

"I can't reach her. I think that last explosion did her in, too."

"Whatever. Screw you."

"The mission isn't over yet!" Reeves exploded. "I'm _still_ in charge, so do what I say!"

Aldo rolled his eyes, complying with his orders to the last detail.

* * *

Veemon limped his way into the cave on the Spire of Courage. He figured the three would try confirming his death. With their abilities and the wounds he got from the battle, escaping into the safety of the Great Forest up ahead was impossible. Was it fate that he woke up lying outside the cave? The epicenter of that one blast was meters away. Veemon had to bet on the chance, however small it was, that his hunters would decide _not_ to go in the cave after him. After all, it seemed like a stupid idea, hiding so close to danger.

His leg throbbed in pain. Blood oozed out the slash wound on his belly, forced open by the rough landing. Veemon no longer cared if the "mysterious human" was inside the cave. For all he knew, he was just as hostile as _those_ three. But what did Veemon have to lose? With those three hot on his blue tail, there was nothing but death either way. He was almost out of bullets, too: one clip left in the utility belt.

Then there he was, slowly entering the capacious chamber at the very end. Light shone in from the two holes on top, but in about an hour, night will plunge the cave into darkness. Veemon eyed the mound at the very center. He could faintly see the small hole on it. The nostalgia was overwhelming, but so was the punishment his body borne. He sat down, leaning on the wall.

"Mmmnnnhh," murmured a voice beside him. It sounded groggy. Something touched his tail. The blue dragon turned his head… cautiously.

* * *

Christopher awoke to find the cavern almost devoid of light. Whatever light was coming in from the openings above was no longer as bright as it was before; the orange glow had dimmed. Twilight was nigh. His vision had improved slightly, though he was still dazed. His left hand on his wound, he knew it had clotted. But did it matter? _How much blood have I lost?_ Chris asked himself. "Mmmnnh," he mumbled. Looks like he'll have to stay in the cave a little longer than he hoped. _Well,_ _I don't think she'll find me here._

He felt something with his right arm. Something that wasn't there before. It felt like leather—like the skin of a baby alligator—but it was warm, similar to a mammal's. Christopher's vision acclimated to the dark confines of the cavern. His goldenrod eyes gazed at a little, blue beast, about the size of a preadolescent child, staring at him with its scarlet orbs.

The yellow "V" on its forehead and the triangular markings on its cheeks were the most prominent features of the creature, which resembled more like a lizard—or a dragon. Chris, eyeing the scars and bruises on its battered body, deduced it just came from some violent battle. Perhaps it was that very battle he had seen earlier, where humans and monsters fought each other to the death. Christopher blinked. He spied the small gun the blue dragon holstered in a Nylon belt strapped diagonally across its body.

* * *

Veemon ogled the human curiously. Sure, he was astonished to see that he ended up sitting beside the hostile. _Who knew? _But despite the Gotsumon's terrifying reports, he looked quite ordinary. Naturally blond hair styled like a Spanish mullet. Eye color was unusual, but that didn't denote much. Clothing mostly black, and again, appeared too mundane for someone who was said to have killed an Adult digimon with ease. (It was too dark for him to discern the breastplate.)

The two stared at each other for some time, possibly sizing up each other as opponents. Veemon knew this human defeated Monochromon. Remembering the Modifiers and the other soldiers he had taken down with his fallen comrades, the Chosen had no choice: assuming this stranger's hostility was the best path to take. And to secure that…

* * *

Christopher realized the blue monster may very well be in league with the giant beast that had tried to kill him earlier, not taking the initiative to kill him perhaps because it was just as weary as he was.

He stowed his hand immediately in his coat.

* * *

To ensure his own safety, Veemon had to disarm the human first. _Gunpoint_. The Chosen grabbed the gun from his side and aimed it at him, opening his mouth to talk.

But the human's response was tremendous. It outclassed anything the Modifiers could pull out of their sleeves. In an instant his precious handgun – his last line of defense – was cut in half. Veemon felt the human's hand clutch his throat and slam him into the cave wall. The digimon choked. His opponent's grip was monstrous! Was he really human?

Then he saw it, the straight sword and its long point, the very blade that had slaughtered Monochromon as if he was nothing. Its dark silhouette was pointed straight at Veemon's face. He had to face it: he was going to die. Were everyone's sacrifices futile in the very end? And to think, Veemon only heard one word escape the stranger's mouth.

.

.

"Restoration."

.

.

.

_First contact has been made. Veemon is on the verge of death, unable to escape Christopher's monstrous grip. Meanwhile, Colonel Reeves intends on attacking the Digital Monsters' morale.. Aldo Kikuchi is hot on Veemon's tail, sent to confirm the Chosen's demise._

_Obviously, Veemon won't be killed, but it's still going to be fun seeing how the two "fugitives" befriend each other. What will they do when Aldo finally arrives? Is there anything more to Colonel Reeves' intention to spare Commandramon's life?_

_Up next on _"The Interloper", _Return. The storyline will only intensify from here on out._

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[7] 14 Oct 2009 EDIT: changed the last time V-Mon saw Daisuke Motomiya from 2 years to 3 years, as it will fit the background of the entire story.

[8] 5 Dec 2009 EDIT: added my response to Lord Pata's review for CH 1 as follows (based on our PM Exchanges):

**Length**: Though 1st chap emphasizes the first contact, my literary device is such that you, the reader, is plunged instantly into the action. So I needed to establish the premises of the story in the 1st chap alone. Seems like too much to say in one chapter if I didn't resort to intros.

**Other Digimon**: Info like this is in my profile. But since you're looking at chapter one, I might as well say that the first half of the story (which is going to be quite long XD) will feature Christopher, V-mon, Hikari Yagami, and Taichi Yagami as principal protagonists, with Ken/Stingmon as support. The siblings' digimon will obviously accompany them. (Before anyone even thinks about it, this is NOT, I repeat, NOT a VeeGato fic! The story itself operates under the presumption of a Takari pairing here, even though I am a huge V-mon fan...)

**Lord Veemon/Stingmon thing**: It's out of respect for being one of the Twelve who led the battle to save the Real and Digital Worlds. Never mind the character faults of the monster (V-mon's childish disposition, Armadimon's laidback nature, Tailmon's overcautious habits); they don't matter. Of course, it goes without saying that the Twelve are among the most experienced and most loyal of digimon. ^^

[9] 6 MAR 2011 EDIT: revised the chapter and corrected most of the anomalies arising from the line breaks.


	2. Return

**Pre-chapter Author's Notes:**

[1] About 12, 720 words for this chapter. Hey, it's approx. 2000 words **less**! ^_^

[2] I hope I was able to portray the canon characters in-character here. Since I'm bringing in the canon characters little by little, this chapter will be, well, a test of sorts. :D

[3] Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Everything happened so fast. The stranger responded violently the moment Veemon brandished his firearm. A single word was recited, and suddenly a spatha appeared in his hands. Veemon's precious SIG P239 was halved in an instant. Before he could do anything else, the blue dragon felt a heavy grip on his neck and was subsequently slammed on the cavern wall, his attacker refusing to relinquish his neck. He clutched the human's hand, trying to pry his fingers off his neck before he passed out. The grip was abnormally robust. Vee began to hack and cough. His crimson pupils were dilating from panic. Blood seeped from the tiny nostrils beneath his nose-horn. His breaths soon became wheezes, gasps for the sweet air.

The stranger raised his sword, its blade gleaming in what little sunlight remained. Its tip barely touched the horn on his muzzle. Knowing death was looming before him, Veemon's mouth opened wide, as far as his jaws allowed it. In an act of desperation he chomped down on the man's hand, making sure his sharp canines pierced the soft skin. A trickle of blood flowed onto his tongue. It was human by taste. Despite this, the Chosen's last resort did nothing significant. All it left was a slight cut. There wasn't even a flinch.

Veemon chewed. There was no reaction. Nothing at all. He grit his teeth and pulled on the steadfast hand as much as he could, only to feel his strength waning. His vision was blurring. The Digimon of Miracles was slipping away! If the sword didn't kill him, asphyxiation would. He gazed up at the stranger, his crimson eyes finally accepting his fate. _I really... _

_I really am, gonna die..._

It was often said that one would see a montage of one's life at the doors of death. Said... and believed by a people who had never tasted death, who always feared its coming.

When Veemon's eyes turned languid, when his conical ears wilted lifelessly, he knew his time was approaching. _This, is, it_, he recognized slowly. He expected the proverbial summary of his own life, all the adventures he's ever had since his release from the mound of earth on the very center of this cavern ten years ago, all the times he's ever shared with Daisuke Motomiya, good and bad. In other circumstances, the dragon might have called this the happiest times of his life.

Instead of the colorful mental autobiography, all he received from the merciful heavens were a growing darkness, capturing his vision faster... and faster. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the exhaustion was just too strong. The spirit was willing, yet the flesh was too weak. Although the Digimon of Miracles discovered, to his own disappointment, that the beckoning of oblivion betrayed the common beliefs held by both digimon and humans alike, his mind was focused only on his lost human partner, rather than his own fear of nothingness. "I'm sorry, Daisuke," he mumbled weakly. "I won't, I won't... be able, to keep my... promise."

He blacked out.

* * *

Christopher released the azure monster as soon as he realized it had fallen unconscious, permitting the body to slump disgracefully to the floor. The black blade retracted according to his whims, and was subsequently stowed away in its proper place. Then he studied the bitten hand. Sticky from dragon slobber, a few bite marks were present, bleeding slightly. There were _four_ punctures, to be more specific, each corresponding to the sharp canines on the dragon's maw, which was left hanging open, as if inviting Chris to try matching the punctured skin to the surprisingly white teeth.

That the creature managed to wound him in desperation surprised him. "Have I actually weakened this much?" Chris asked himself, knowing full well nothing in that world could possibly wound him like that, not when his health has seen better days.

The wound on his abdomen, a gaping hole as if a chunk had been forcibly removed, ceased to bleed. Clotting, it was well on the way to recovery. Nonetheless, it worried him. He had no doubts he would die if he got into a fierce fight at that very moment.

Casting a scrutinizing eye on the small beast, he noticed a black and resilient nylon baldric running across its white chest, lined with eight pockets. Most of the pouches were empty, but two contained some ready-to-eat meals. A third stored crude, medical supplies. Famished, Christopher took one of the RTE rations (a sandwich) and emptied the medical pouch of its contents: patches for wounds, stitches, stints, antiseptic wipes, medical tape, and other useful items. Amazing how so much could fit in one pocket.

A small bottle of alcohol caught his gaze. Preferring to set the sandwich down on the dragon's exposed stomach rather than the dusty floor of the cave, Chris twisted the bottle cap until it opened and, taking a deep breath, poured its contents over his abdominal wound, inducing pain so strong it felt like his body was sizzling on the spot. Hissing at the rudimentary treatment, Chris went through the pile of medical supplies until he found a gauze roll, with which he used to dress the wound. After all, stitching was out of the question. The wound was too large, not to mention Chris didn't know how to stitch.

_At least I got it dressed_, the man settled.

After a few minutes of rest, the blond's goldenrod eyes couldn't resist blessing the unconscious form of the small monster with their gaze, its white underside dilating and contracting ever so slightly: a sign of life. To his own amazement, in spite being half his height, the little beast had endured so much. The telltale sign of a horrid slash crossed the belly. Multiple bruises colored the entire body. Right leg and tail sported a bullet hole each.

None of those wounds were treated. Correction, there _were_ signs of initial treatments via liquid bandages, but something had obviously undone them. For some reason he couldn't quite explain to himself, Christopher _actually_ considered cleaning and dressing the scarlet cuts blanketing the blue dragon. Chris was trying to shake the thought away, when he was distracted by the feeling of slick moisture on his hands. Looking down, he was startled to see he pulled the motionless muzzle wider with his left hand, and had grabbed the flaccid tongue with the other in an attempt to keep the monster's airway open and unobstructed.

Why was he doing this?

Didn't this creature pull a gun on him?

He glanced down after wiping sweat off his own forehead, checking whether the spherical head was lying on its side, impending the recovery of its consciousness.

Already his mind worked on generating arguments against his manufactured questioning. Christopher's gut told him the beast held no ill will when it brought out the handgun. Forcing himself into further rumination, he recalled feeling the sadness and regret exuding from its eyes and body, prior to blacking out.

Somewhat convinced, Chris's hands automatically took the dragon and lifted him from its back. The skin was soft, smooth, and warm, betraying the first impressions of a rugged, rough surface, devoid of heat. He lifted the body and set it down before him face up. Gathering the proper supplies, the blood covering the tiny nostrils around the horn were wiped off. _No matter_, Chris rationalized in defeat. _I can easily kill it later if it really **is** hostile. _With that, he started treating the dragon's wounds the way he treated his own, starting with the long, horizontal cut on its belly.

* * *

Lucille scoured the area for any signs of Veemon. He had completely disappeared. But the Chosen was dead wasn't he? So why, she thought, why did she feel so uneasy about the dragon hugging the arms of the dying Guardromon?

The scout, Aldo Kikuchi, arrived whilst she was engrossed in her search. "Hey Lucy!" the man called. "What'cha doing? The Colonel won't admit it, but he's worried sick! I can tell!"

"Been searching for that little runt's body for ten minutes now," the woman replied a second later. "I know it's here somewhere."

Aldo cocked an eyebrow. "Err, you **do** remember SCAI fade into little, itsy-bitsy particles when they're deleted, right?"

Lucy groaned. "**YES**, I know. But…"

She hesitated to continue her words, letting her voice fade into the air. But Aldo's talent for observation allowed him to catch on this subtle diffidence, and immediately the scout pinpointed her worries.

"You're not sure the Chosen's dead? It'll explain why you're so desperate to find a body."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," she answers. "You got me. Happy?"

Kikuchi shook his head. "Hardly. Reeves will kill us if he finds out the mission's a bust. What happened here?"

* * *

Commandramon balked. Veemon was dead? Did they _even_ have to verify **that**? What hope would there be left to the digimon at the satellite base when he comes back bearing those sad news? He shuddered at the thought. _Is this why I'm still alive?_

"Why," he asked the Colonel. "Why do you want him dead so badly? You guys already won. Just let me go. It won't matter if he's dead or alive." He paused. "Verify?" he repeated. "You don't even need to! He's already next to useless without that _human_ of his."

Reeves stared at him in the face. Commandramon couldn't do anything to him. The bullet lodged in his leg was designed to **double** the energy expended to do anything. An exhausted SCAI wouldn't be able to do much with that in him. Perfect for killing monsters. Perfect for capturing them, too. "It won't matter, you say?" he replied. Coughing up a glob of phlegm, Reeves spat on the military dinosaur. "You would've been dead now if it didn't matter."

* * *

"So, you modified your grenade launcher with _Fire Rocket_, aimed it at the Veemon and Guardromon, sent them both to hell, and you **still** think it survived?" Aldo scratched his shaved head vigorously. "HOW?"

"You're not listening!" Lucy responded. "Let me explain it _again_. Because _nobody_ was around to support me, I had to take out the Guardromon and that rock SCAI all by myself! I was about to kill the Chosen when that rock thing just pushed my gun away! My attack flew over to where the Guardromon were; one of 'em rolled down the mountain. I finished off that rock—Gotsumon-thing—just as he threw—that's right, **threw**—his comrade, his _own_ comrade, to the Guardromon waiting for him down there! I try to kill him mid-air but no, that blue bastard fires at me and GIVES ME AN **EFFING CUT** ON MY CHEEK!" Lucille Diaz furiously pointed to a line of red running across her face. "I gifted them with about ten _Fire Rockets_—"

"Resulting with the big explosion," Aldo said in monotone. "So _how_ would the target survive this? The database said it attracts good luck, but c'mon."

.

.

"Well," she sighed. "Right before the explosion, I saw the Guardromon aiming at the peak with the Veemon clinging on one of its arms."

Aldo's eyes widened. _Finally_, Lucille thought. "You don't mean—?"

She nodded. "That's right. It_ could have_ escaped. A miraculous and reckless act of sheer desperation."

"So why don't you follow it up—?"

Lucille Diaz undid the catch, showing the scout her digivice. "ARE YOU INSANE?" she yelled. "No way I'm going up there with 7% on my battery! I'll be stuck if I get into a fight. Plus the forest up there is damn thick."

Silence. Lucy broke it ten seconds later. "How much energy do you have left," she started, "in your digivice?"

"25%," he replied. The look on his face had a hesitant air to it. "Lucille, **please**."

"You said it yourself," she said. "We'll be in this deep if we fail to verify Veemon's deletion." She brushed her yellow hair with her hand. "So I'm ordering you to get your butt up there, while I check up on Reeves."

Aldo grumbled. "Yes, _ma'am_." He started slowly, climbing without modifications.

"Oh, for—!" Lucy seethed. "Double time, Aldo! Search the area before nightfall hits! It's been hit by one of our bullets on the **leg** and it's leaking blood from the belly! There's no way it could've gotten far! Just don't forget: continuous modifications use up a _lot_ more energy than the burst types we use with our jumping!"

"…No need to yell," he said, undoing the catch.

* * *

Many minutes elapsed before Veemon finally stirred, much to his surprise. _I'm... alive?_ The Chosen sat up slowly, bringing a cerulean hand to his neck. _Didn't I choke to death?_ Veemon looked up. _Sunlight still here. Weak though. Looks like I wasn't out for too long. _For some reason he felt better. Stronger. Compared to when he first walked into this dim cave. Only then did he realize all his wounds had been cleaned. Every one dressed with bandages. It was a better job than the basic treatment he gave himself earlier. _But who...  
_

"Finally awake, huh?" inquired a baritone voice beside him, as if supplying the answer to his wonder. Recalling easily just who was responsible for knocking him out, Veemon turned with a jolt, expecting a nasty surprise waiting for him. Instead, all his eyes recognized was the stranger's face, about a foot away from his, munching on a clubhouse sandwich taken directly from his utility belt. Veemon was taken aback by the narrow gap. He backpedaled, leaping to his face. "Agh!" The Chosen raised his arms, each slender and deceptive, concealing the true strength within. Scarlet eyes bore into the man's face, exuding the meanest glare he could muster. He wasn't going to win a fight like this, he figured. _But at least I won't go down without_—

"Hey!" the stranger interrupted, halting Veemon's trail of thought. "I won't hurt you, got it?"

He blinked.

_What the?_

The statement did not reassure him. It left him incredulous. The human won't hurt him? What? Hadn't he been the first to attack? Wasn't he the one who killed Monochromon? Didn't he effectively deny the Guardromon, the Gotsumon, Commandramon, and himself their much-needed support against the Modifiers? Crimson eyes veered to what remained of his firearm on the cavern floor. His gun had been cut in half. The man slammed Veemon into the wall and choked him until he passed out.

He should've been dead.

Pure logic was telling Veemon that, he, the Digimon of Miracles, _should've **died**_ at that very moment.

And yet he didn't. He didn't!

Instead he woke up several minutes later, with all his wounds properly cleaned _and_ dressed, first aid performed by none other than this human... monster... superhuman... or _whatever_ this guy was. His neck and back were still sore from the beating he took earlier, reminding him the person standing in front of him could do him in anytime. Believing this man wouldn't hurt him was difficult. Without a doubt, Veemon was perplexed.

"Look, uhm, sorry 'bout earlier," the blond submitted his apology. It was an ostensible, not to mention pathetic, attempt at calming the blue dragon down. Unfortunately, Veemon's sharp hearing detected the sheepish tone he used. An apathetic tone that stained the apology he would never have expected from this stranger's mouth.

He listened, keeping an eye on the man, wary of his actions. Bolting out of the cavern was out of the question. Sudden movements wouldn't help Veemon, not in his position. Besides, he could still feel the bullets lodged in both his tail and leg. _Like I can even run in the first place._

The scent of food brushed his nose. It distracted him from his thoughts. The man offered Veemon the uneaten half of the sandwich he pilfered from _his_ rations. It was insulting, although the Chosen was relieved to know he could probably talk his way out of this mess. _Probably_. "No harm in being too careful," the man was explaining, providing a subtle gesture at the treated injuries. "At least I fixed you up."

Veemon's red eyes scanned him from top to bottom. Putting aside the unusual hair and eye color combination and the weird items he wore on his person, the bottom line was he was human. When he bit him earlier, some of the blood that splashed on his tongue had a salty, slightly acrid taste that was simply different from all the kinds of meat he had ever eaten at the Motomiya family's table. A _human_ taste. Strange, considering how **in**human he was with the monstrous speed and strength employed to knock Veemon out.

_Should I trust him?_ he asked himself. Humans should not be trusted, especially those who weren't connected to the Chosen Children, those who possessed no partner. The converse may have been applicable in the early 2000s, but that was then. This was now. It was rare, if not impossible, to find a human with _no partner_ who would spare a digimon from death, dress his wounds, or even offer him a portion of his meal.

What was the blond trying to do? Lower his guard? Bribe him? If Veemon refused, would it reveal his true colors? How could he defend himself then? Whoever he was, the stranger outclassed the Modifiers when he never even had the slender digivice attached to his wrist in the first place. Now that he thought about it, why was he allowed to live?

Veemon's conical ears twitched. "Look, you." The blue dragon blinked, staring at the man's goldenrod eyes. Their eyes were level. Veemon was standing in front of him, while the stranger glared at him, preferring to stay seated on the ground. "Stop playing dumb," escaped the impatient grumble, "and start talking. I **know** you guys can talk.

"Why," he continued, "did you attack me?" Those frightening goldenrod eyes did not waver. "You with that beast from the forest?"

_That beast?_ Veemon thought. _Does he mean…_

.

.

_"Hu-hu-human? That guy... that guy ain't human!" The Gotsumon scouts stammered in their narration. Monochromon had been killed by a human. A human, of all creatures, armed with nothing but a black sword. No Digital Modification. No guns. The Adult's slayer was even in critical condition. By all rights, it should've been the human that died. Not Monochromon._

_But that was the truth. The cold, hard truth. "Monochromon got taken out by that human, Lord Veemon!"  
_

.

.

_Okay, so I **am** going to die._

That's why he still lived. The stranger needed information. Once he had it, Veemon would be disposed of like Monochromon before him. "Uhhhhh..." he trailed, pondering on whether he should lie or not. Perspiration rolled down his cheeks. "Uhm..."

He couldn't bring himself to lie.

"Y-yes," he gulped, shivering, terrified of what would happen next. "He was, was, a, a dear friend."

He just **couldn't** bring himself to lie. To do so was tantamount to spitting on the memory of his friend and fellow digimon. It would have been an insult to everything Daisuke Motomiya stood for, to the principles Veemon himself adhered to. The Digimon of Miracles was morally and principally bound to speak the truth. He couldn't go around screwing up his image. _Their_ image. Even if it meant saving his own skin. No amount of self-preservation was worth the dignity and pride of being a Chosen to the very end.

Those frightening, goldenrod eyes narrowed. Its owner processed Veemon's words. It was a chilling moment. One that felt like hours. He could do nothing but wait for his fate. Running was out of the picture. Fighting was a losing proposal, even when his cuts and injuries were given initial treatment. Veemon's red eyes simply watched, dilating slightly as the blue dragon felt a shiver creep down his spine.

Then the man moved. Veemon flinched, shutting his eyes, expecting the extreme surge of pain that would consume him and bring him before death's embrace!

It never came.

He reopened his eyes, only to see the human taking a bite off the sandwich. "Got you to speak at last, eh?" He chewed his meal slowly, deliberating on his next action. "Wasn't expecting you to sound like a ten-year-old kid though." The stranger shook his head. "Seriously didn't..."

A stray thought in Veemon's mind suggested the stranger was thinking Monochromon attacked him because he was human. That Veemon himself could be a potential enemy in the future.

Acting directly on impulse, the Chosen raised his arms. "L-Look!" he clamored. A troubled look formed on his muzzle. "Look!" His hands flailed to and fro, palms facing the offended human—well, he _seemed_ offended.

"It was. Err, I mean, it wasn't...!" Beads of sweat rolled down his wide forehead, giving the 'V' marking on his head a dull shimmer in the weak light. "Wasn't because you're human, o-o-okay?" he stammered. "Most of my friends _hate_ humans. B-But, but I-I, I don't!"

The look on his face practically _begged_ for mercy. "Really! I don't! Promise. You believe me, don't you?"

* * *

Even before the little beast awoke, Christopher had an instinctive feeling of trust towards it. He couldn't feel bloodlust when the blue dragon raised its pistol at him. No malice, his intuition was telling him. At least, not from the creature. _I wouldn't be here right now if I can't even feel that_.

Of course, it was natural for the creature to back away after recovery. Chris _did_ choke it to unconsciousness. His apology probably wasn't enough, but it was as sincere as he could make. Hardened by battle, the ability to sense malevolence or the desire to kill became a natural skill. Useful as that was, however, it could only get him so far. The monster was in a bad position, and it knew it was facing someone much stronger than it. Staring, Chris tendered his query. "Why did you attack me?"

He eventually spoke, calling that prehistoric beast "a friend". Christopher pondered over the reasons he was attacked. But then this blue dragon suddenly went on the defensive, insisting on some difference in ideologies. Chris found it amusing and resisted the urge to laugh. _How cute_. He raised his hand. Instantly, the monster closed its eyes once again, poising its body in anticipation of some painful, deadly strike.

Christopher rolled his eyes at this. _Dammit, I _told_ you already._ His hand was placed calmly on the dragon's shoulder.

"Wah!" it jumped. _Must've been more nervous than I thought_. He recalled the curious scene he observed on the Spire earlier, that ferocious battle between men and monsters. Looking at the wounds this blue dragon sustained, its participation in said battle was highly probable, if not certain. Compared to the sheer hatred emitted by the prehistoric beast he slew, this monster acted as if, as if it was afraid of humans, _yet_ struggled with a subtle yen to coexist with, or even override, this fear.

Chris watched its red eyes dilate, widening as it realized the man standing before it did nothing to hurt it. Its gaze darted over and over again, from the hand on its shoulder to Chris's face and back. The white mouth, a dragonic snout about two inches in length, was ajar. Wordless. In fact, the monster was somewhat stunned, like it found the sense of human touch foreign _and_ familiar. The dragon did not know what to make of this. Fear and relief fought for control. The blond sighed. "Look," he reiterated, "I won't hurt you." _Not unless you do something stupid_, he thought. Chris figured this was at least common sense. It looked like it was capable of reason, after all. "So just sit down. Relax."

The words mollified the blue dragon. Relief washed over it and calmed its quivering form. The little beast took his seat beside the blond. Slowly. Cautiously. It seemed to have a problem with plopping down directly beside him, but Chris understood where its decision to do this came from. _It's curious_, he inferred. Ten seconds haven't even passed when it began softly, like a young child afraid to ask. "Why," the dragon hesitated, "didn't you kill me?"

"Hmm." Christopher began pondering. He couldn't just say it was because of some instinctive, gut feeling. The truth was so stupid! This monster's actions had been questionable. **Very**. He pulled out a gun on him after all. To add, it was a _friend_ of the beast that ambushed him. Logic called for sending the blue dragon to hell. Chris betrayed this logic and even went as far as dressing its wounds. _Yes, **why** did I let you live?_ the blond asked himself, trying to come up with the perfect excuse. "Mmm..."

It was unfortunate he couldn't find one worth saying, worth believing. _Damn._

* * *

Veemon played with his left ear, wondering why the human hasn't answered yet. Why did he take so long? Veemon wasn't exactly a patient digimon, and it was killing him to learn _why _this blond spared his life and treated his injuries, when he had no obligation to do so! Veemon succumbed to his impatience fairly easily. "Helllooooo," he said, waving his hand in front of the human's face.

The response was dismissive. "Just wait," he was told.

Veemon grumbled inaudibly. Was the perpetuation of his life nothing more but luck, as **usual**? Monochromon had been slaughtered by this person, and the effort it took to do so was little. He gazed at the blond distracted by rumination, evaluating his appearance. The Chosen couldn't recall anybody dressing the way he did, even in the Digital World. The bracer on the man's left arm and even the sword that had been pointed at him were downright bizarre. His strength and agility were shocking, considering he didn't possess the "special digivice" used by the Modifiers.

_Why didn't you kill me?_ thought the Digimon of Miracles. After all, he should be dead! A lifeless corpse dissipating into particles of data, all alone in the cave where he met his human half so long ago. Yet he was alive. ALIVE. Spared by one who should have slain him. His crimson eyes glanced at the blond yet again, seeing him deep in reflection. All Veemon asked was that simple "Why?" It had been how long now, ten, fifteen minutes? Not a single word had come out of him.

Veemon was twiddling his fingers when it finally dawned on him. What if this person sitting beside him, covered in his own blood, **didn't care** he was a digimon? Someone who, maybe, just maybe, was open to being friends with one? The thought was almost inconceivable, given the circumstances of the times, of the first contact itself! The Chosen's instincts told him to believe it, to disregard what his logic asserted. Perhaps the man was an outsider? Someone who's been out of touch with human society for at least ten years?

_But what about that insane speed and strength?_ countered his head.

Conspiracy theories were thrown around in his mind. A living experiment that escaped from government secrecy was one possible hypothesis. Nonetheless there was one common denominator. The blond was _human_. Veemon had the chance to taste his acrid blood and it was _Homo sapien_ through and through. _"Humans have been hostile to digimon since the Revelation!"_ echoed Golemon's voice. Despite those words, here was one human **completely unrelated to the Chosen** sitting next to him. Granted, their first contact began in mutual hostility; Veemon survived it, and was now being treated like... an equal. Like he wasn't some monster to control. To eradicate. _Like a potential friend._

Golemon was wrong! Wrong! A familiar warmth rose in his chest. Though Veemon didn't know where he came from, or how he got there, _I have a goooooooood feeling about this!_

A big grin formed on the Chosen's muzzle. He followed through on his gut feeling, taking a leap of faith by trusting the blond. Veemon pinched the man's cheeks, disrupted his concentration, and laughed with all the cheer he could muster. "Stop thinking! Just admit you let me live 'cause you saw some good in me!" He was given a puzzled look, which the Digimon of Miracles ignored. Veemon tendered his hand. "I'm Veemon! Who're you?" It was like meeting Daisuke Motomiya all over again.

* * *

Pieces of shrapnel and jagged metal were scattered across a small clearing in the forest. Scorched earth marked the point of impact. Aldo had finally found the Chosen's landing zone. It was smoldering slightly when he arrived.

Undoing the catch, he held a few pieces in front of his digivice. Making a full loop with his thumb on the white, circular thumbpad, a small menu appeared on the screen. Options such as "Help Information", "Digital Scan", "Data Modification," and "Data Absorption" came up. Rotating his thumb, Aldo selected the "Digital Scan". A blue laser then shimmered on the shrapnel he held on his left hand.

"Let's see," Aldo muttered after a few minutes, gazing at the LCD display. "Scan results." Tossing the shrapnel aside, he held the digivice like an iPhone and scrolled down. The base material of the shrapnel was scrap metal, typical of debris. It continued to analyze the data particles that enveloped the item under scrutiny top to bottom.

The Modifier's digivice beeped when the analysis was complete. "Data particles uncharacteristic of environment," were the words displayed on the tiny monitor. It was 99% SCAI attacks, and 1% anomalous data. "Perform data trace?" it prompted. A click on either the left or right side would indicate positive or negative responses, respectively. Without a moment's hesitation Aldo clicked the left side of the thumbpad.

The data trace was done in two minutes. As Aldo suspected, the shrapnel was from Guardromon's attack, launched almost 2.7 kilometers away (which fit the amount of distance he covered on foot) about twenty minutes ago, on 1753 hours. Damage radius was 50 meters, clearly exhibiting the Adult's power. _We would've deployed the veterans earlier if they participated in the battle_, noted the Black Japanese-American hybrid.

There were other pieces of miscellaneous information accompanying the scan results, but Aldo skimmed through measures of digital velocity measurements, trajectories, and the like. Lucille wasn't insane after all, Kikuchi thought. _There really __**was**__ a missile sent out on the last second._ But did the Chosen die upon impact? Neither the data trace nor digital scan could determine whether any objects were flying alongside the missile during its airtime.

Aldo groaned. More work for him. He closed the scan results and reopened the "Digital Scan", this time setting the environment as its target. Consuming an infinitesimal amount of battery per few seconds, the digivice began scanning the data particles constituting the milieu around him for any dispersed data fragments that once belonged to a Digimon. _This'll help_.

Rather than walking around the 50-meter damage radius, Aldo trudged the forest to monitor a radius of _500_ meters. Better safe than sorry, he told himself. _I don't want that asshole Reeves goin' all out on me when I get back!_

* * *

_"Just admit you… saw some good in me!"_

Much to his ire, the blue dragon pinched his cheeks suddenly, startling Chris from his concentration. Just when he was in the middle of concocting a very logical explanation for his actions, even if they _were_ a bit convoluted, filled with tunnels and secret passageways. His goldenrod eyes just ogled the monster, stupefied. _Don't tell me it figured me out already..._ To confirm his suspicions, the monster beamed and raised its hand: an open invitation for a handshake. "I'm Veemon!" It, _he_, introduced himself. "Who're you?"

The introduction was somewhat formal. He didn't expect the formality from this "Veemon", thinking he only had the temperament of a child. _Playful, much? _Veemon's sudden switch from apprehension to trust annoyed him, but Chris disregarded it. He didn't mind. He felt his own hand moving, clutching the dragon's automatically. "Chris," responded the blond. "Christopher Van Numen."

Veemon's muzzle maintained its excited, happy look, eyes glistening with water. "And why are you so happy?" Chris couldn't help but ask.

"You wouldn't believe how _long_ I've been waiting," gasped Veemon, laughing, with a few tears falling from his eyes, "to _actually_ talk to a human!"

Chris sent an odd stare and nodded slowly. "Ohh-kay..."

"I, I mean"—Veemon scratched his head—"Y-you know, as a friend. Not as an enemy or leader or something."

"A leader? A human's leading a group of_ monsters_ like you?"

"Yep!" Veemon nodded without hesitation. "We call him the Tactician. Ever heard of Ken Ichijouji?"

"Nope."

Veemon paused, humming. "Hmm," he strummed his snout, trying again. "Daisuke Motomiya?"

Christopher shook his head.

"Taichi Yagami?"

He shook his head again.

.

.

Chris had replied in the negative for the eighth time when Veemon gave up. "Forget it, Chris. You don't know my friends…"

"Vee," spoke Chris, inadvertently giving him a nickname. "I don't even know what **you** are."

The monster was flabbergasted. An awkward silence ensued, only to be broken with a word that threatened to pierce Christopher's eardrums. "**REALLY**?"

* * *

The Digimon of Miracles couldn't understand it. Where has Christopher been for the _past ten years_? How could he **not** know what a digimon is? Veemon's mouth hung open as he reveled in his own stupor.

"So you've never heard of digimon all your life?"

"Never."

"'Digital monsters' ring a bell?" he tried one more time, tilting his head to the right: a habit that oftentimes made him look cute without meaning to.

The blond stared at him. He couldn't tell whether Chris was irritated, annoyed, or just patient. Veemon hoped it was the third choice. He had a tendency to annoy people (even Daisuke, from time to time), and it wouldn't help at all if he irked his first human friend in three years.

He had to admit, Veemon would be really happy if patience and accommodation characterized the man. Those were two traits Daisuke definitely lacked, and the change in disposition would be yet another reason to welcome this start-up friendship, adding already to the "first human buddy in three years" bit.

"How old are you?"

"About 23."

Vee eyed Christopher. _23?_ _He doesn't look 23._ _More like 19._ He leaned towards his new friend, staring with his face so close Chris could probably smell Veemon's breath. "Just _where_ did you come from?"

The man averted his eye contact with Veemon. "You," he started. "I," He paused for a second or two. "I, I'm sorry, Vee. But it's **not** your concern."

"It is now," the Chosen replied. _You sound like you're hiding something. _"C'mon, we're _friends_!"

Vee could've sworn he saw Chris's face contort for a fleeting moment. Almost immediately, Chris steeled himself and apologized. "You're better off not knowing."

The blue dragon tried again, but Christopher refused to answer, even when the digimon pinched him. "Pllllleeeeaaaaaaasssssseee?"

Since nothing he pulled on him work, Veemon eventually gave up. Wherever he came from, the Chosen would just have to wait patiently for the answer to that. "So what're digimon anyway?" Chris questioned.

He scratched his own muzzle, perplexed. _How am I gonna start?_

* * *

Lucille Diaz slowly sauntered down the Spire. It was a tiresome descent, climbing down rocks and steep paths she could've jumped with painless ease had her digivice had more battery power left in it.

The earset she wore had been fried during the battle. Having ordered Aldo Kikuchi to double time after the Chosen, she figured he'd forget to notify the Colonel about her status. Isolated from any form of communication, the best Lucy could do was climb back down to Reeves. She would've d-modified her way down there, but the last thing she wanted was an ambush by hidden stragglers when she was powerless. _Curse this stupid battery!_

.

.

Ten minutes later, she caught sight of a lone, spiky-haired man watching over a Commandramon sprawled on the ground, with blood seeping out of the bullet hole on its leg. "Colonel Reeves!" Lucy called, breaking into a gravity-assisted sprint.

Reeves glanced towards her voice, catching Lucy in his gaze in a second. He smiled. "This little bastard over here gave me one hell of a fight," he said, gesturing to the fallen Commandramon.

"One hell of a fight?" Lucy asked. "Aldo told me you almost got yourself killed."

He flicked his hand. "Psshh, don't listen to the jackass. He's got a hero mentality, that nigger…"

"Hero mentality?"

"Yup." Reeves fixed his hair with a small packet of hairgel found in one of his pockets. _What's up with him and spikes?_ "Aldo just rushes in, and tries to be a hero." He leaned towards Lucy, whispering, "I could've handled myself without him."

Lucille sighed.

"Anyway." The Colonel had a look of triumph on his face.

_Crap. Here it comes._

"Is the Veemon dead? Did you kill it?"

"It…" _I have to tell him. I must!_ "I-it… I don't know, to tell you the truth."

Reeves glared at her, as if shocked and disgraced. "_Lucille! _I trusted you! You're better than Aldo in all respects and it _still_ got away?" his eyes seemed to say.

"Don't you even _think_ of questioning me," Lucy preempted. "The Chosen and one of those androids concocted some crackpot plan **right before** _that_ Fire Rocket got 'em. You know which one I'm talking about." It was the largest explosion in that battle. _How wouldn't he know this?_

"A crackpot plan, you say?"

Lucy could see Commandramon slowly crawling towards them. No longer did he groan and moan in a cursing exasperation. _He wants to listen_, she figured, _to find hope_. Diaz continued on, paying the fallen monster no mind. "Yeah, you heard me right, Colonel. Would you believe, _riding_ on a missile?"

The red-haired Reeves rubbed his chin. "…That's reckless."

"Characteristic of Veemon's personality?"

"Very." Reeves' tone sounded like it was seeking more answers. Answers Lucy provided without hesitation.

"My digivice ran out of juice," Lucille reasoned. "I couldn't pursue it; I tried to find signs of its deletion within the immediate area, but the environmental scans don't exactly identify individual data particles flying around the place."

The Colonel remained silent. Lucy added, "I sent Aldo up there to verify Veemon's status. I'm pretty sure it couldn't have gotten away from the missile blast… and if it did, it couldn't have gone far: it's _wounded_."

.

.

"So Aldo's doing the investigation?"

Lucille nodded.

"Could've just taken some energy from his digivice. That's all he's good for."

"You _really_ don't trust him, do you?"

"Why not? He's a newbie, too excited to be a hero, and a bit on the slow side. A jackass, too."

He glanced at the fallen Commandramon. "'I'll take care of Kikuchi for you. You head back to the base. The Vice-Chair's itching for results—wants to know how our Digital Modification Devices are doing. Typical R&D crap. I'm actually surprised he's not letting that Kurata nerd take care of this since _he_'s the one with the Ph.D. Leave it to the science geeks for science, I always say."

She gave a soft laugh and cut off his rambling. "I'll give him results, alright."

* * *

Aldo had covered most of the circle, timing strength modifications with his jumping, conserving his battery. 25% was a lot to work with, but reckless consumption would empty it quite fast. So far, his environmental scans were fruitless. It listed trees, their species, the fruits they bore, the kind of elements in the air, and the like. None of the particles his digivice scanned contained a SCAI's.

Then he came to a larger clearing in the forest. There was an area with blackened trees on the other side, towards the depths of the forest, where he could see the height of the trees growing suddenly to astounding proportions: a Great Forest. The trees within were so tall and clumped together it'd be difficult navigating in it. It would be a _perfect _hiding place for the satellite base. Aldo barely made out a vending machine somewhere around there with modified eyesight. Suddenly, his digivice vibrated in his palm. He gazed at the monitor.

There were _fresh_ particle fragments in the area. The digivice identified it as a SCAI's. However, the fragments were too corrupted to know what the level of the monster killed was or even the identity they once comprised. But it was a simple fact: a SCAI was deleted on this very spot. The distance was about 300 meters away from the impact point.

Aldo could only guess that someone killed a monster here. He imagined Veemon meeting a monster guarding the back route in case any human got through, and then both were deleted by some… _thing_. But he also considered Veemon just dying from blood loss. There weren't any signs of battle in the area, after all. _At least, job's done. _Then he saw the Spire in the distance. He could hardly see a cave there.

Kikuchi shook his head. "There's no way the Veemon would be hiding in there," he told himself. "It couldn't be _that_ stupid. That's less than one-fifty meters to Lucille's spot!"

Returning towards his Colonel, Aldo couldn't help but think. _What if he was right? What if the Chosen was just there, waiting to be killed? _

.

.

Aldo swore he'll check the little cave before he returned to Reeves and Lucy.

* * *

Veemon was telling Christopher about the digimon, what they were, and even some of the adventures he's had with his partner, Daisuke. All over the story, Vee spoke from cheerful reminiscence. Unbeknownst to him, Chris thoroughly examined Veemon's body. Despite the treatments, some blood still seeped out of the slash wound on his stomach, as well as the bullet hole on the right leg. Fascinating as Vee's story was, it amazed Chris to see Veemon jovial in lieu of this. Not that Christopher was better off—he was just as bad. Chris considered himself lucky to have decent natural healing.

He glanced at the bracer on his left arm. Christopher wondered if he could activate it now. The dragon caught the shift in his glance, piquing his curiosity. Stopping in the middle of his story about his first "Jogress Evolution" (whatever that was), the monster poked the blue gemstone. "What's this, Christopher?" He had been quick to remember his name.

Chris was about to respond it was none of his business. But he thought, _Nah. I guess I can tell him._ "Vee," he said, "This is the R-Scanner."

"R?"

He nodded. "That's right. R." Inserting a quick explanation, "R for Realm. It's crafted from very strong raw material, so it's pretty good as an armor of sorts. Keeping things simple, the Scanner's a device I can turn on with pure thought alone." Veemon didn't answer. "Well," Chris added, "so long as it's on my arm. It can't link up with my nerves if it's taken off."

"Mmmm," Vee murmured. "And it can do…?"

Christopher grinned, setting his left hand before Vee's chest, palm up. "Just watch."

_Okay. I hope it works this time._

_._

_.  
_

_Activate._

* * *

Night had fallen. Aldo found the cave mouth just right for his size. With modified night vision, he could see the cave turning towards the center of the mountain, or rather the top of the Spire. He found dried blood on the cave floor, but they were no longer viable for DNA sampling—contaminated by impure data particles, it said in his digivice.

But with blood on the floor, Aldo pondered on whether there was a SCAI hiding in the cave. Was it the Veemon? Or was it some other monster they failed to kill? What if it was human? If his first theory was correct, the blood would be human, then. What if both monster and human blood were in here? It'd be difficult to sift the pure DNA samples from the blood splattered on the cave.

Kikuchi readied his FN SCAR, cocking the gun. All that's important was verifying any life form in this place… and snuffing it out.

* * *

Veemon was in awe. A second after Chris told him to watch, he saw the blue gemstone shimmer dully in the dark. He could faintly see his friend's golden eyes take on a blue sheen, with the same hue as the gemstone. If Vee peered closely, he could make out shapes forming on the blue sheen, as if Chris was looking directly at a computer monitor.

He brushed his fingers just in front of Christopher's eyes. Nothing. He was completely engrossed in the images he was seeing.

.

.

Without warning, Christopher seized the Chosen. "Wha—?" He ran to the back of the cave, and hid behind the mound that was Veemon's "birthplace". "Christopher what're you—"

Vee felt a hand clasp his mouth had no idea what was going on. Chris's eyes were directed solely at the entrance. The Chosen could see the intent in his gaze. He was once again the person who choke-slammed him into the cavern wall. The blue dragon gaped nervously, a bit fearful of feeling that monstrous grip on his neck a second time.

Then Christopher lightened his grip on the digimon's mouth. He closed his eyes, anticipating that feeling on the neck. _He was lying! Now he'll—_his train of thought was interrupted by the rough hand clutching his head, nudging it down. A sense of relief buoyed him; he was merely jumping to conclusions. Tranquil, he comprehended his new friend's actions: somehow, he discovered someone else coming here. It's the only logical explanation! This conjecture was confirmed later by soft footsteps denoting heavy alacrity.

A figure came seconds later, its face shrouded in darkness. The starlight wasn't enough to reveal his visage. But his smell struck Vee as familiar. He recognized the dark battle dress. _It's one of them_, the Chosen conjectured. The Modifier had an assault rifle on the ready, sights trained on his left eye, ready for the kill.

Somehow Chris had detected this soldier, and knew Veemon couldn't risk being seen by him. A question mark popped in the digimon's mind. _Wait_, he stopped himself. _How does __**he**__ know I'm running from this guy?_ He gazed at the man beside him. Veemon finally realized: Christopher was also a fugitive, one who knew darkness as inadequate cover against someone who can see through the black.

.

.

Little by little, the soldier inched closer to the mound, turning his gaze in all directions. He wasn't going to leave everything in this place unturned. As the man closed in, a flush of memories broke into Veemon's head. Recent memories.

.

.

_Gunfire rained down on the group of digimon as they began their ascent up the Spire of Courage, vying to retreat to the Great Forest, recover in safety, and return with reinforcements. "An ambush! HOW?"_

_Searing pain paralyzed Veemon's leg. He fell, dropping to the ground. "Waaaaaaahhhh! MY LEG!" First his tail, and now his leg. The two wounds virtually cut off his ability to walk. To run. He was immobile. A sitting duck. Commandramon had little time to apply pressure and cover the bullet hole with medical gauze before their assailants emerged from their hiding places, garbed in the uniforms donned only by DSI veterans.  
_

.

.

The military cut on the man's top, and his dark skin gave the Modifier away: he was the man who gave Veemon a bullet in the leg. With the soldier creeping towards them, it was a matter of time before they were discovered. But what can they do? Ambushing won't work when night-vision was likely, not from their position!

"Restoration," whispered Chris's soft voice.

Veemon watched the piece of metal grow silently and quickly in Christopher's hands, transforming into the very sword used to disarm him. He was poised to strike. Protestingly, the digimon gripped his forearm. _No!_

It broke his focus. _He must've been anxious_, Veemon figured. Goldenrod eyes stared back at him, angry for interrupting his predatory strike. The Digimon of Miracles shook his head. "Don't kill him," moved his mouth. It was nonverbal, but Christopher probably understood.

* * *

Aldo ambled into a large cavernous space within the cave. Starlight poured into it from two holes, one from the very top, and another just some distance below it. His eyes modified for night-vision, he examined the area for any signs of life, readying his FN SCAR should duty call for it.

He found the remains of a pistol cut _cleanly_ in half. Picturing the two together, he discovered those to comprise the very handgun the Chosen had been using in the battle: a SIG P239. _He was here!_

Kikuchi strode little by little. Though armed with night-vision, he was wary. The Veemon may be hiding somewhere there, waiting to ambush him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle; Aldo abruptly made a 180° turn, staggering backwards with his gun trained to the depths of the shadows. _For a moment there, I thought…_

But if the Chosen was here, _how_ did that gun of his get cut in twine? This question nagged at Aldo. There was something in here, and it was dangerous. The story was becoming clearer to him: maybe the Veemon encountered this… monster. Whatever it was, it chopped its gun in half. It ran away to the clearing, but the monster easily caught up with the Chosen and finished it off. _Makes perfect sense_. He glanced at his digivice: the automated scanning didn't display any interesting results.

Nonetheless, it was all speculation. There was still that area behind the mound. He had to check on that. Walking closer and closer, Aldo was quite certain of his story.

* * *

Veemon watched the Modifier approach. _He's heading for us now. But it's not like he's seen us either._ He eyed Chris's hand. Its grip on the sword was quite tight from the looks of it.

The man advanced, now standing before the mound. Veemon shook Christopher's forearm. It remained tense. He wouldn't calm down. Was Christopher intent on remaining out of sight? Or was he afraid of some unforeseen consequence?

But just before both digimon and human breached the Modifier's line of sight, the soldier ceased all advances, lowered his gun, and raised a hand to his ear.

"Oh. Hello, _Colonel_," he spoke, finishing derisively.

"Yes. I'm done with my investigation. I'm at the Spire. Can you see the stars, sir?"

Veemon heard the Modifier grumble. "Ugh. Whatever. Look, the Veemon's dead, alright?"

.

.

"What, you don't trust me?" he yelled. "Lucy filled you in on the details, right? **No**?" He was laughing. "Some _leader_ you turned out to be, Colonel!

"Look, look. That last explosion? Lucy saw it hugging one of the Guardromon's arms, so she thought it got away by"—he stopped. Veemon figured the man on the other end, the red-haired one, finished the sentence. His next words confirmed that.

"That's right, you got it…. Uh-huh. If you must know, I **did **find the missile… no, Colonel, there weren't any data fragments of a SCAI until about 300 meters from impact point. It's either the Veemon died of blood loss, or was killed outright."

"Can't say, Colonel. I have _no idea_ who'd want to kill the Chosen other than us."

.

.

"Alright, alright, _sir_, I'll get back to you ASAP."

The Modifier stretched his arms. "Finally! Now I can get out of this dump." He undid the catch. "D-Modify!" Veemon watched blue lines of energy caress his legs as he bent down, and made a giant leap for the lower hole on the ceiling. A second later, the man was gone.

Veemon sat up, sighing with reprieve. "Chris!" he uttered. "He's gone! It's okay!" He watched the sword contract to its original form. Before the Chosen could say anything else, a small container materialized in Chris's left palm, which was pushed into Vee's hands. "Rub the contents on your wounds. It'll stop the bleeding better than your liquid bandage."

* * *

The moment Christopher thought, _Activate_, the gemstone on the gauntlet shimmered slightly. The Scanner worked at last, much to his relief. His line of vision, once Veemon shrouded in darkness, was populated by brightly lit menus the same color as the gem on the Scanner.

To the left was a list containing a plethora of selections and options that would allow the Realm Scanner's user to utilize its abilities. For the moment, however, most of these options were grayed out. As it turned out, the device wasn't completely fixed. Chris fumed; lacking the full gamut of the R-Scanner's technological capability would severely hinder the pursuit of his mission.

To the right was a small map of the environment around him, representing the areas Christopher had been to. Two golden circles inside the birds' eye view of the mountain represented him and Veemon. But the moment he expanded the map, Chris's attention was nailed to the unidentified gray dot moving towards their position.

Knowing full well he wasn't in a condition to battle, he grabbed Veemon by the hand and dragged him to the mound and went prone behind it. _Who's coming? _Erring on caution, he eyeballed the entrance with intent, patting Vee's head down when the stranger came into the vast chamber. "Restoration," he mumbled, readying his weapon. A second later, Chris felt a warm hand tighten its grip on his forearm. A glance revealed Veemon shaking his head, moving his snout and mouthing a silent protest.

The potential hostile came in from an exposed area between the menus still open in Christopher's eyes: a soldier, clad in a battle dress that blended easily with the shadows. His right wrist had an intricate device attached to it; his hands clutched an assault rifle, keeping it on eye level. Chris slackened somewhat, until he found the man advancing towards him and Veemon. _If we were discovered—!_

He clenched his grip. Veemon shook his arm. Christopher knew the message. The little monster didn't want anyone to die in this cave. But he ignored Vee's plea. Discovery would result to disastrous consequences.

Right before he could strike, the man stopped, engaging in a short conversation with the "Colonel". He leaped away moments later, allowing Christopher to calm down. Vee must've settled down as well, as he was restating the obvious. _Save your breath, _he thought. Still connected to the R-Scanner, Chris decided to be of some help for the blue dragon. _Storage._ There were a few items of interest in there, including a wallet, a camera, a stone fragment, and what appeared to be three containers of wound salve. _Realize one wound salve. Deactivate._

A small container appeared on his left hand. He handed it to Vee.

.

.

Vee marveled at the efficacy of the wound salve. He didn't finish it all, pocketing what was left of it in his utility belt.

"I'm guessing you're wondering how I found out about him," Christopher began, referring to the soldier.

The digimon was silent, but Chris knew he was listening. _Activate_, he thought once again. Menus popped up once more. _Display._

The menus disappeared. At the same time, the blue gemstone on the Scanner shone. Holographic images appeared above the gemstone, images that formed themselves earlier in Christopher's eyes. Veemon was amazed at the sight. "Whoa." He poked a finger on the Scanner's virtual menu, causing the holographic display to ripple and shimmer. "Coooool..."

Christopher explained briefly. "Okay, err, well, that's what I see every time I turn on the Scanner. The menus are translucent, but it's _very_ difficult to act and go through this menu at the same time, believe me. So… I found that soldier coming in the cave when I turned on the Scanner and took a peek at the map. That's, pretty much it."

"What's this thing called 'Assault Mode'?"

Chris gave Veemon a light slap on the head. "Doesn't take much to figure it out. But something's wrong with the Scanner. I can't access everything, for some reason."

.

.

"Hey, Chris," Veemon spoke. He turned to the blue dragon. "Thanks."

Christopher smirked. "No problem." Helping him out actually felt good.

"So what now?"

"…We'll rest first, and then—" Abruptly, Chris collapsed. His eyes shut gradually. "What the… hell's… happening…?" Little did he know that his body hadn't completely recovered after all. The stress of being discovered countered any benefit he attained from his short sleep earlier.

The monster beside him, startled, could do nothing but watch over his body.

* * *

"Yo, Colonel!"

Commandramon looked up at the sound of the voice. The scout called 'Aldo' was back, reporting to his superior. Col. Reeves was seated opposite Commandramon, staring at him with wide, alert eyes, wary of any tricks the monster might pull out of its sleeves.

"No small talk, newb," answered Reeves. "So what's the news? I want a detailed report on your findings."

"Where's Lucy?" he asked.

"Taking care of my job. Now what's Veemon's status?"

"Well, you _may_ find this interesting."

"Try me."

Aldo gave Commandramon a passing glimpse before proceeding. "Long story short: it's dead. But it wasn't because of those wounds it got. I found what I think were its remnant particles in the forest, some 300 meters away from impact point. Nearest landmark's a clearing with a vending machine and the Great Forest nearby."

Reeves had an eyebrow raised. "Was that really the Veemon's?"

"I'm pretty sure it was. Funny thing is, when I was heading back here, I saw this _cave_ near the summit." Aldo pointed to the rock jutting out from the line of trees. "There was dried blood all over the floor, and I found Veemon's gun in there—cut _cleanly _in half, as if a sword sliced it as if the metal was butter. I scanned the environment but there weren't any digital particles in there. In fact, there wasn't _anyone_ in there. I checked the entire cave."

Aldo stopped. Commandramon had a shocked look on his face when he mentioned the sword. _N-no, Lord Veemon was…!_ _By that human? _The scout walked over to the fallen monster, squatting beside him. "You seem to know something." He kicked Commandramon's shot leg. "Spit it out."

"Guh!" cried the monster, spitting on Aldo. "Ne, never."

The scout was livid. He stomped on the hurt leg repeatedly, until tears streamed out of Commandramon's orange eyes. Col. Reeves paid no mind—this was _the_ way of extracting information: beating the crap out of someone 'til they capitulate.

.

.

"O-o-o-oh-oh-kay! Okay!" squealed the military dinosaur. "Stop it! I'll talk, OK? I'll talk!"

"Now spill it!" ordered Aldo, keeping his boot on Commandramon's leg.

"Wi-we, we," he stuttered, "Before we began our ascent, the Gotsumon scouts returned, saying that a human somehow got behind us. I don't even know how _that_ happened. But he effortlessly killed our guard back there; it was an Adult. But we were going up anyway. Veemon… _Lord _Veemon insisted we do so. H-he-he, said that the human was wounded and he'd stay in a cave on the top of the Spire."

Col. Reeves blinked. A human took out a Champion with ease? A human that appeared behind enemy lines without warning? He was nodding his head. "Looks like Commandramon confirmed your story."

"But it makes you wonder, right?"

"No use thinking about it. Though we might catch him in the forest." The Colonel walked towards Commandramon.

"You really going to let me go?" inquired the military dinosaur.

Reeves smirked. "No. D-Modify!" The last thing Commandramon saw was a fist covered in steel heading straight for his face.

The Colonel had lied. _Let him go? Why am I going to 'let him go'?_ Commandramon had been knocked out, actually, and he wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.

"You could've just shot him, Colonel," remarked the scout.

"Nigger," Reeves retorted scathingly. "Again you fail to comprehend the bigger picture." He crouched beside the military dinosaur's body, undoing the catch.

Aldo was fuming, and responded with curses. But the Colonel ignored him. He brought his digivice before Commandramon's bullet wound, invoking its power. A small light enveloped the digivice and the leg. Subsequently there was nothing. In fact, _nothing _happened.

"What did you just do?"

Reeves grinned. "Shut up and help me with Commandramon. Let's bring him to that vending machine near the Great Forest."

Aldo was baffled. "**Why** are we doing that? _I_ think his allies are somewhere _in_ that Great Forest!"

"Exactly."

Kikuchi scratched his head. "But, Colonel, I don't get how we're going to"—he paused. "Ohhhhhh." The look that came with strokes of genius consumed him. "I see, I see. You're one cunning asshole. Really, you are."

"Whatever," the Colonel replied, lifting Commandramon's arms. "Since you _now _understand what I just did, just go behind me and take care of his legs." _What a newb. Took you long enough._

* * *

"Mmmnnh."

Commandramon opened his eyes, the stars easily coming into his vision. _Where am I?_

_The Colonel walked towards Commandramon. _

_"You really going to let me go?" inquired the military dinosaur. _

_Reeves smirked. "No. D-Modify!" The last thing Commandramon saw was a fist covered in steel heading straight for his face. _

The military dinosaur felt his snout; he had a large lump on it. It hurt like hell. Sitting up in an instant, Commandramon found himself in the forest. A vending machine stood beside him in all its anachronistic glory. Nearby was a field of scorched tree stumps; beyond it, a clearing, and further, the Spire of Courage.

_The Colonel really _did_ keep his promise_. He gazed at the towers of trees standing tall in the night sky. The Great Forest. Any idiot can figure out the Satellite Base was in it somewhere. But with the thick vegetation and the tall forest preventing aerial surveillance and easy navigation, finding that would be a difficult task.

Commandramon began limping towards the Great Forest. He was devastated. Lord Veemon was dead. The Tactician would be livid. And Lord Stingmon as well. Worse, everyone in the satellite base would be crushed, as the Colonel said they would. And whose fault was it? _It was mine! _Commandramon told himself. _Mine! I never should've abandoned him! _"But", he could hear Veemon's voice tell him, "You all tried your hardest. It's nobody's fault, alright?" The military dinosaur could already imagine a childish smirk on the blue dragon.

.

.

The Great Forest was called such due to the mind-boggling height of trees within and the way the vegetation clusters together with each other. Only those who've _been_ to the satellite base would have an easy time finding the hidden path leading to the Satellite Base it concealed so efficiently.

Commandramon hadn't traveled far into the Great Forest when tightly-clumped tree trunks greeted him. Being only one, navigating was easy and unobstructed, though it would've been faster—thanks to the "special bullet" in his leg, limping wasn't his only problem: Commandramon had to relieve his exhaustion every few minutes. Sauntering deeper into the Great Forest, he found a shallow, calm stream. This was the landmark he was looking for. He went to the other side and followed the body of water downstream.

.

.

He stopped when he saw a patch of oddly colored wood on the base of the great trees. The trunks of the giant trees were similar to redwood, yet some had patches of _brown_ wood on their bases. _This is it._

Commandramon was standing for a minute or two before the trees when two pairs of blue eyes appeared on two of these patches. A second had passed, and these odd patches were revealed to be digimon made of wood.

"Woodmon," Commandramon uttered. "I've returned from the Spire of Courage."

The Woodmon's eyes darted left and right. "…Where's Lord Veemon?" asked one.

"And what of the battle?" inquired the other.

Commandramon could only sigh. "I'm sorry," was all he could muster. The Woodmon understood this pained gesture, revealing the path to the base. It was as if they thought it was only a matter of time before they lost, and all they were doing was, to put it bluntly, "prolonging their suffering".

* * *

Christopher's sudden collapse shocked Veemon. For someone so strong, he half-expected him to be "up and at 'em" as soon as he woke up. The Chosen, like the blond before him, had gone through Chris's clothing, surprised to discover a large gash on the armor he wore, somewhere on his lower abdomen. The bleeding had stopped, but given the amount of blood drying on the cavern wall and floor, one thing was obvious: Christopher needed a place where he could get _real_ help. _The satellite base_, Veemon thought. It was the only place that had the medical facilities for Chris. Whatever he was, Christopher was still human. The Chosen's own tongue had confirmed it.

The blue dragon sat beside him, watching over the body. He had _no_ idea how much time had passed by the time Christopher groaned, regaining consciousness. "Veemon… W-what happened?" The question scarcely escaped his lips. Veemon had to lean closer just to hear it.

"You collapsed," he said. Veemon opened the teal coat, showing Christopher the wound he found. "And I found _this_." Concerned, "What happened to you?"

His friend rose with much effort. "Got it from a battle." Veemon tried to squeeze more information out of him, but as usual, Chris was annoyingly secretive regarding his past. Nonetheless the digimon continued to place his trust in him. _I lived. Reason enough for me!_

"Okay," began the Chosen. "I can get you help from my base nearby." He took Christopher by the forearm, and, limping, led him outside. For some reason, it was an exhausting task. Standing on the plateau, Veemon pointed to a line of tall trees towering as high as the Spire itself behind a slightly burnt clearing in the forest. "Over there, hidden in the trees."

Vee turned his head towards Christopher. "So let's go! I'll lead the way!" He closed his eyes and grinned, flashing a thumbs-up.

"I thought other monsters hate humans," Chris answered.

The Digimon of Miracles laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'm a Chosen. I'll _make_ them listen."

He chuckled. "I hope so."

Veemon paced towards the Great Forest, taking great care not to get himself _too_ tired from overexertion. Christopher followed—he was weak, though the pain in his abdomen was no longer as acerbic. When the pair arrived at the rocky, downward slope that led to the clearing, Veemon stared nervously, sweating as he recalled the bullet in his leg. _Uh oh._

Before the Chosen could start raving about this misfortune and rant on the pain he'd have to endure on the way down, Christopher crouched beside Veemon. "No offense, Vee, but we need to pick up the pace."

"But!" He protested. "But Chr—!"

Chris cut Veemon off, grabbing and setting him down on his own shoulders. "This way, it'll be faster."

"T…thanks?" Stammered Vee as his ride descended to the clearing below.

* * *

Lucille had easily found her way to the base camp. Like most forward bases, the construction work was done in a simple manner, relying on cloth and plastic. Lucy knew the installation of these forward bases was actually done remotely, designing and generating them from the headquarters in Tokyo. The technology needed to do this took months to develop based on studies made on the Digital World before the war began.

She found herself entering a white tent in the midst of the camp. The best thing about working with tents in the Digital World were, she remembered being told, was that it was so easy to upload. Lucille Diaz stared directly at a television monitor before her, its wide screen devoid of any light and life. She waited, knowing full well that it was she who must bear the report of the Modifiers' first official mission.

Then it came. The widescreen LCD monitor flickered to life. A clicking sound fills the air, again and again. It was a Zippo lighter, flipped open and closed continuously. _Vice-Chair's online_. A man sat cross-legged on a comfortable, revolving office chair. His shades obscured his eyes. The everlasting frown on his face did nothing to aid the child-like hairstyle of his dirty blonde locks.

"Oh?" said the man. Click. _God, that clicking sound is so annoying! _"I thought I was going to speak with the Colonel."

"So sorry, sir," Lucy apologized. Clack. "But we determined some, ehem, complications with—"

"Is Veemon dead?" the Vice-Chair blurted. Lucille didn't expect him to ask about the Chosen so early in the conversation.

Lucy didn't know what to say. An answer in the positive would save Reeves' and Aldo's reputation as well as her own, but at least only until they found out that the monster survived and was no longer in a position to be killed easily. An answer in the negative, however, would result to the Vice-Chair thinking. She didn't want to disappoint the Vice-Chair. _What should I—?_

"No matter," articulated the man, suddenly changing his mind. "He's no threat. Give me a performance report instead."

"A performance report?"

Click. A small smirk formed on his lips. "That's right, Lucille. A performance report of your DMD's. You three were the first to test them on the field." Clack.

.

.

"First of all"—Click.—"We need to improve the battery!" She exhaled. "The Colonel nearly died…"

The man nodded. Clack. "My team in R&D's working on that, I assure you." He took off his shades, wiping its lenses. His eyes were closed. He flipped his Zippo one more time. The click-clack of the lighter was getting on Lucy's nerves and _he knew it_. "Now go on. We have plenty of time_._"

* * *

"Chris, what's that sword you're carrying?"

Christopher looked up. "What, Vee?"

They were heading for the clearing on a small forest path that led to that, and the edge of the Great Forest beyond it. It took Chris a quarter of an hour getting down from the plateau. _I could've jumped easily from that height_, he silently complained. _But with Vee here I can't just do things that'll make me stand out. _

Chris then found Veemon's "V" blocking half of his vision. "You know, that sword you got! The one you used to, uh…"

"Almost kill you?"

Vee gave an awkward chuckle. "Err, yeah."

He brought out the piece of metal from his coat pocket as he walked, handing it to Veemon. "What about it?"

Blue hands scrutinized every part of the object. "I don't get it," he was muttering, completely oblivious to Christopher's query. "It's so short! How can a sword come out from thisss, this—?"

"It's called a DITE," the young man answered.

"A die?"

"No," said Chris. "A DITE: Die-tuh."

"And thaaat's…?" Veemon paused, anticipating Christopher's answer.

"I don't really know myself. I just got it from a friend of mine. But, it's a great weapon, durable and strong." He smiled. "_Plus, _each slashing movement you make can generate wind if you're strong enough!"

"REALLY?" Vee's voice had drawn fervor.

Chris felt slight movements above him. Glancing up, he could see the digimon waving the sword up and down, trying to extend it like an expandable baton. He laughed. "I had the same problem before, you know!"

"Gah!" He swiped the block of metal downwards. "How"—he raised it up—"do you"—down again—"work this thing!"

Tired, Veemon parked his spherical head on Chris's. He took the piece of metal from the digimon's hand. "You're doing it all wrong," Christopher reviewed. "You need to look at the DITE as an extension of yourself."

"Uh huuuuh?"

"You must project it extending into a sword, and you support its extension with your conviction."

"Conviction?"

"It's your willpower."

"Oh! You mean like my emotions?"

"Ehrm," Chris didn't know how to explain it. The philosophy dichotomizing conviction from mere emotions would take several hours to expound. With Veemon's intelligence similar to that of an average child's, Christopher might as well just _multiply_ that number even further. Eventually, he gave Vee a simple answer, composed of only two words: "Sort of?"

Veemon nodded happily. _Well that solved the problem._ "Anyway," Chris went on, "once you're ready, just say the word 'Restoration'. You don't have to shout it. You could whisper it; you could even just say it out loud in your thoughts!" He returned the block to Vee's open hands. "The machinery in the device will respond, transforming that useless piece of metal into a weapon. As for _how_ that actually works, forget asking me. I'm lucky it hasn't broken yet."

But the digimon never said a word. After receiving those instructions from Chris, Veemon entered a state of concentration, motivated by the desire to see the sword make gusts of wind. Christopher shook his head. The forest path opened to the large clearing. He remembered the vending machine that stood near it.

He heard Veemon utter the magic word. "Restoration!" A bead of sweat ran down Christopher's head when he realized the word came out in a tone of joy and flippancy. _How can that "Daisuke" live with this?_

The DITE did not respond. "Aww!" he bawled. "Why won't it work for me?" Veemon waved the DITE again and again. "I've been doing it right! Restoration. Restoration. RESTORATION!"

.

.

"Hmmm," hummed Christopher, "I guess your conviction wasn't strong enough." He was walking very slowly across the clearing. He could barely see the vending machine's shadow by the forest.

"Eh?"

"You just wanted to see if it can really produce wind," Chris explained. "If you really _want_ the DITE to respond for you, you'll need something more convincing. Stronger."

"How about me wanting to see my partner again?"

Chris shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Vee. Just try it!"

The blue dragon handed the DITE to him. "And what's yours?"

He stopped. Veemon gazed down at his ride. _Can't he even tell me that?_ "That's unfair," denounced the digimon. "I've told you some stuff about me already. Reciprocate, _please._"

The Chosen received only silence in response. He sank, dropping his head on Chris's.

.

.

"…ate," Vee heard him murmur. _What?_

_I'm sure he said something. _"Again?" inquired Veemon.

"My conviction," broke Christopher, "To alter my fate."

"I don't get it."

"I **will** alter my fate," he repeated, pointing the sword away from both of them. "Restoration." The DITE transformed into the black sword Veemon had seen with own eyes. _But I don't understand it, Christopher._

"Here, try it out." Vee was handed the expanded DITE. He accepted the weapon, and, forgetting the ambiguity of Chris's conviction, slashed the air with it. A second later, a gush of wind whooshed by his ears, rushing to the forest beyond them. He was speechless. "Wow." The sword retracted, its inner machinery recognizing Veemon as another user.

He placed the weapon back in Christopher's coat, and lightly kicked the man's pectorals. "Can't we go a little faster? With the way we're going, we'll arrive _tomorrow._"

"Sorry, Vee," came the reply. "But I'm too weak to even run."

"Meh."

* * *

The Satellite Base. A large area hidden by an abundance of leaves high above, with few tree trunks at the base itself. It was located deep in the forest, within an overgrowth that would certainly slow down any infiltration party. There was only one path into this place, a path Commandramon had taken.

Two hours have passed since Commandramon's return, alone. The base was more of a boot camp, rather. It only had one building in the entire place, made of concrete. Two stories, it housed the War Room, the Digiport, and a well-equipped clinic for prominent monsters and, if any, their human halves. It also housed an armory containing human weapons, kept specifically for use by monsters that had **no** long-range attacks like Veemon. There were several structures within the satellite base, but these were made of wood found from fallen branches and leaves of the great trees towering above them. These "buildings", if they can be called such, were nothing more but barracks for those who can fit: mostly the Child levels. Those who couldn't, like most Adults, were forced to remain content with the outside; not that it was uncomfortable. It goes without saying that _one_ of these buildings housed medical supplies for use on wounded monsters.

A concrete wall was erected around the Satellite Base, high enough to prevent anyone from scaling it from below.

Commandramon opened his eyes, finding himself in a soft bed at the special clinic. He had arrived at the base, exhausted and bruised. He could recall falling down the moment the gates of the Satellite Base opened for him, the subject of many a digimon's eyes. The military dinosaur had yet to explain Veemon's absence, but he was sure it would cause a detrimental strike on his comrades' morale.

He found a purple bullet by his bedside. The digimon examined it. _So this is their "special bullet"._ A double door nearby opened to reveal a small, flower-like creature shaped like a bud. Its face was devoid of any expression, but her sweet voice denotes its loving and respectful demeanor. "Ah, so you're awake, Commandramon?"

"Hi, Lalamon," greeted the military dinosaur. He felt weak, though stronger than earlier. "Feeling better."

"That's glad to hear." Commandramon could imagine her smiling. "For a moment there, I thought my surgery wasn't much of a success."

"Surgery?"

The flower digimon, floating, nodded. "The three of us had to take out that hideous bullet in your leg." There were three Lalamon in the Satellite Base: they were in charge of the special medical facilities.

Commandramon couldn't imagine _how_ the three Lalamon worked to get the bullet out of his system, but he was glad of it anyway. "So what's happening?"

"For one thing," broached a gruff voice, "I want to know what happened out there!"

Its speaker was none other than an upright lion, half-naked save for black pants. Black leather belts were wrapped around his left arm, with a studded knuckle-duster worn on the hand. His yellow mane flowed backwards as the lion marched to Commandramon. "Why did you return **alone**?" growled Leomon. "Where's Lord Veemon? And our comrades?"

Orange eyes darted to Lalamon, who understood the message and left right away. Commandramon hesitated, capitulating seconds later to the burning stare of Leomon's eyes. "He… He's dead, Leomon. Lord Veemon is, is… g-go—"

"Don't you dare!" Leomon pounded a small desk beside Commandramon's bed. "He's one of the **four** remaining Chosen we have in the Digital World, and he's gone, just like that?"

The military dinosaur rose from his bed, standing directly before Leomon. Clear was their difference in height; the lion towered over him. "We were ambushed."

"Ambushed?"

He nodded. "By three humans."

"THREE HUMANS?" roared Leomon. "What about the Guardromon? Monochromon? Golemon? Couldn't they help? And where were the Gotsumon, Mushroomon, and Elecmon?"

_We were overwhelmed._ "The, t-the Mushroomon and Elecmon were outnumbered by their grunts, Leomon." Commandramon knew Leomon had trained those Children and Adult digimon for battle. To him, they were all a part of his precious family.

"The Adults, Commandramon! What happened to the Adults?"

"Golemon was taken out by two grunts." Leomon's eyes widened. "Lord Veemon had an argument with him. He wouldn't even let _me_ avenge Golemon."

Fuming, the lion swore. "That's what I hate about working with the Chosen—they lack the nerve to _kill;_ all of 'em." He took a deep breath. "And? What about Monochromon? He was assigned to guard the rear, wasn't he?"

"A human appeared in the forest," articulated Commandramon. He hesitated, but pressed on regardless. "Encountered Monochromon while severely wounded, and defeated him with a black _sword._"

Leomon's mouth was agape. "Heavily wounded? With a black **sword**?"

Commandramon shook his head. "I couldn't believe it myself, but _all six Gotsumon_ were panicky and screaming. 'Not even human', they described him."

"And those three humans," forestalled the military dinosaur, "had **digivices** that can strengthen themselves. Modify their limits."

Leomon banged on the wall, frustrated. "Damn the DSI!" He massaged his forehead with his paws, sitting down on a bed. "We're having a virtual meeting with the Tactician in an hour," began the great lion. "Should we tell him about Lord Veemon? I'm… beginning to see the end, Commandramon." His voice was marked with grief.

"No. If _he_ loses hope," spoke Commandramon from his knowledge of strategy, "so will everyone else. We're lucky he retained his tactical intelligence from his days as the Digimon Kaiser." He walked towards the door. "We'll lose that when he's crushed."

"And where are _you_ going?"

"To the War Room. I can think of a better excuse when I'm there."

"Allow me to help!" Leomon rose.

"No," replied Commandramon. "Stifle the other digimon. My return alone spurred gossips among our friends."

* * *

Aldo and his superior stood by the last line of trees beside the summit of the Spire, marveling at the large camp their comrades set up a few kilometers from the bottom. Lights adorned the lower half of the mountain, with several groups of soldiers scaling the Spire in search of their fallen comrades. The scout turned to Reeves: he was feeling quite smug on the victory. After all, it was _he_ who led the successful operation that caused a significant blow in the hearts of their enemies.

They began their descent. No longer did Aldo talk to the Colonel. There was no need to. All he wanted was a good night's sleep.

"You're not getting a break yet, Kikuchi."

Aldo gave him a burning stare. "What's the meaning of this? We're done!"

The Colonel sneered. "You're a Modifier. We'll be planning our next assault when we get back."

"…What—?"

Reeves smacked his subordinate's head. _Ow! _"Newb! Don't you even remember _why_ we brought that disgusting reptile to the Great Forest?"

"I do, I do!" rebutted the scout. "But can't we just start this **tomorrow**?" he pleaded.

Another smack on the head. "This kind of operation takes at least 48 _hours_ of planning, careful consideration, and **meticulous fact-finding**. Don't you know what that means, newb?"

Aldo Kikuchi shook his head, yawning. He was slapped in the face.

"Idiot!" decried Reeves. "I don't even know why I got someone as stupid as you under me!"

"I swear," Aldo could hear Reeves murmur, "I'm never putting another black guy in my squad."

The scout had had enough and sucker-punched the Colonel on the side. Reeves keeled, scowling. "_Sir_! I know what it means, but _please_, you gave me and Lucy one hell of an afternoon and you're so eager to begin a planning session _tonight_? Let's just do this tomorrow." He rolled his eyes. "Better yet, just do it **yourself**. Let the two of us sleep."

Col. Reeves tackled Aldo, and the two began a short fistfight. Unaided by their digivices they traded blow by blow, curses rumbling from their own dirty mouths. With no one to stop them, the little brawl had no signs of ending, at least until…

"…until I'm sure I'll see _that_ look on his face again."

A female voice. The two men glanced back at the summit, catching a short glimpse of someone jumping into the trees from the very top. "Colonel, any ideas?" asked Kikuchi. _Is this the one who killed Veemon? She sounds sexy!_

"We don't know who it is," replied Reeves, as if responding to Aldo's thoughts."But I bet she killed our target." He readied his Howa, undoing the catch on his digivice. "D-Modify!" Blue lines snaked the Colonel's brown eyes, granting it a pale green color. "Newb! Modify your eyes for night-vision. We're going after her."

"Roger that, Col—"

"And what **will** you do when you find me?" The voice verbalized so suddenly. Its speaker was so close to them, it caught Aldo and Reeves completely off-guard. How did she hear them from over there? Another question tugged at Aldo's mind. _How did she get __**here**__?_

The scout found a female, human-like figure shrouded by the trees nearby, hidden from the dim starlight. He could see her pale legs shimmering in the dark. Aldo wondered if she was wearing anything decent at all. A glimpse at the Colonel's salivating mouth did nothing but confirm his conjecture. Gulping, he undid the catch. "D-Modify."

* * *

Christopher felt weak, stopping just beside the decrepit vending machine. It wasn't that hard to find, after all. Even if it wasn't supplied power, its metal façade was unique compared to the fauna around them. He could even see the television nearby. Vee climbed down from his shoulders as he took his seat beside a nearby tree.

Veemon glanced at the television. From the corner of his eye, he could see Chris staring at the television and vending machine, as if ruminating. He tugged Chris's coat, and pointed at the machinery once he got his attention. "That's a digiport," said the Chosen.

One look at the old thing made Chris laugh. "But that thing's _busted_!"

"Only when the Gate's not open," corrected Veemon. Chris seemed skeptical. "Only the Twelve can open the Gate, you know."

"Right," he said with sarcasm. "And what about the humans you fought?"

Vee shrugged. "Beats me. Ken's still trying to figure it out. Too bad we don't have Koushirou with us. It's _his_ department."

"Koushirou?"

Vee nodded. "Yup! He's the techie for my partner's friends! Really good with computers." He rubbed his white belly, licking his lips. "His mom cooks good too."

Chris patted the digimon's back, "Can't wait to meet your friends."

Christopher's hand tensed. He rose, wary. _Didn't he say his body was weak? _Veemon ogled his new friend. He quickly recognized the fearful look on his eyes, the way he stared at the darkness behind them. _Adrenaline rush._ He watched Chris take out his only firearm, aiming it at the clearing, while his free remaining hand held onto the white staff on his back. Veemon could feel him shivering. Trembling.

This was completely different from that time in the cave. "Chris?" muttered Veemon, worried, brushing his arm.

In an instant, Christopher turned towards him, his face agog with relief. "Sally?" he joyfully blurted. A stifled sob escaped the human when he realized it was only Veemon. Chris attempted to smile, but the digimon saw through it immediately. Regardless, Chris began shaking his head vigorously, as if he had lost all reason. Veemon could hear him murmuring horrified no's repeatedly.

The blue dragon smacked him on the head. "Are you okay?" He was thankful the blow had restored Christopher's brief immersion in insanity. Veemon could feel him palpitating, obviously shaken. Tears were dripping from his eyes.

.

.

It took a minute for Christopher to calm down. "Sorry, Vee," he said, wiping his face. "I lost myself back there."

"What's going on?" Veemon inquired. Concern laced his voice. "And who's Sally?" He regretted asking _that_ upon seeing Christopher cringe at the question.

.

.

Ignoring the query, Chris lifted the blue dragon by the waist, setting him on his shoulders. "Let's just go." He was aloof. Cold.

Veemon groaned.

* * *

The satellite base's War Room was nothing special. It was a simple meeting room, with only a wide-screen television on the very back of the wall. Commandramon knew one secret about this monitor: it was actually the digiport for the current sector, the nearest one being the classic style TV set on the very edge of the Great Forest. Furthermore, it's one of those directly connected to the main base.

Commandramon waited anxiously for the screen to flicker. _What will I tell the Tactician? How can I hide this from Lord Stingmon? _He thought of plenty stories and excuses he could throw to the two, but in the end, he gave up, sitting down on the carpeted floor. _There's no use. They'll find out eventually…_

A flickering light appeared on the monitor. The digiport was being accessed by someone on the other side. Commandramon gulped. _This is it._

.

.

The television screen produced high-definition images. The military dinosaur could see a young adult. His pants were dark blue, white stripes running down its sides. He adjusted the blue and white vest he wore, paying close attention to the golden belt buckle. As the man wore his purple cape, Commandramon noticed the tall, green digimon hovering beside him. It resembled a giant insect, covered by a combination of tough exoskeleton and black armor. _The Tactician and Lord Stingmon_.

Ken Ichijouji's clothes were reminiscent of his days as the Digimon Kaiser, Commandramon was certain. But at least he was here now as the Child of Kindness, the Tactician and well-respected leader of their forces, partner to Lord Stingmon. His innocent, purple eyes and his sleek hair were proof of that.

"So you've returned, Commandramon," started the Tactician.

Beads of sweat formed on the dinosaur's snout. The image of Lord Stingmon's emotionless eyes did not assuage his anxiety.

Ken adjusted the black gloves on his hands. "So tell me…"

.

.

"How was the mission?"

.

.

.

_Commandramon has returned to the Satellite Base, bringing disastrous news for the Digimon Tactician and Stingmon. But we know this development wasn't so bad: Veemon is still alive, spared and even befriended by the very human threatening his escape from the Spire. Even better, they are well on their way to the Satellite Base. Though we can only imagine what happens when Veemon returns with Christopher. How will the monsters treat him? How will Commandramon react when he discovers Chris to be Monochromon's own murderer? Before we can get to that, however, with Commandramon unaware of Veemon's fortune, will he crush Ken's morale? Is the Colonel's intent simply to achieve this, or does he aspire something more sinister than the Ichijouji's implosion? This we will discover in the next chapter_.

* * *

**Post-chapter Author's Notes:**

[4] We didn't see any action in this chapter. This is supposed to be a lull in-between the battles. It is intended to introduce the Satellite Base, to show the development between Vee's and Chris's friendship, to formally bring in Stingmon in the current story arc, to get the readers to learn more about Christopher, and more importantly, to foreshadow future plot events that will go as far as chapters set in the Real World. Forgive me if this chapter bored you.

[5] To be honest. This chapter and the next were supposed to be one. That's how the plan was originally designed. Unfortunately, when I wrote this, I discovered that incorporating the events that will take place WITHIN the Satellite Base will make the 2nd chapter extremely long (think more than 20K words given my record so far). So instead, I decided to split this one long chapter into two. ^_^

[6] By the way, has anyone of you watched at least one episode of _Chrome Shelled Regios_? The DITE is actually from that series. The one Christopher uses is the same one Layfon Alseif, _Regios_'s main character, uses in the anime. It was called "Adamandite" in the episode it first appeared, serving as a backup for Layfon's normal DITE. :P Of course, this simply means that I do ***not own*** this DITE weapon concept.

[7] Additional disclaimers. I own Christopher, his background and his equipment (except for the DITE). I also own the Modifiers, though my concept of using the digivices to modify oneself may not be a unique one, as it's a combination of the Card Slash and Spirit Evolution systems found in Tamers and Frontier.

[8] Any constructive criticisms are welcome. :)

1 DEC 2009 EDIT: Fixed the options available to Christopher in the Realm Scanner, and also added a leather wallet and digital camera to the digitized inventory. Options available to Christopher are mostly utility-based. The functions and some basic descriptions are as follows:

- Storage: reveal a submenu where user can view inventory contained within Scanner's internal storage containing digitized items.

- Digitize: convert a selected item into special data the Scanner can absorb into its internal memory drive. The larger the scanned item, the longer it would take and the larger the space it'll take.

- Realize: instantly realize the selected item on the user's hands.

- Seeker: identifies an item that it knows (through user's possession/knowledge, items in storage, or item info obtained via download in Universal Database) and pinpoints its exact location, adding a cursor to the map. Can be adjusted with filters uploaded into the Realm Scanner's built-in storage.

- Expanded Map: maximizes the small map on the lower right of the UI, allowing for zooming, focusing, and filters. It assigns arrows for moving, living objects.

- Universal Database: network of information only the Realm Scanner can access and download. Permanently disabled in _The Interloper_ to ensure good plot ahahaha XDD

- R-Link: Links the R-Scanner to one or more objects. The limits to this option has yet to be determined by Christopher. This option also enables travel across multiple universes, though this isn't going to be seen in _The Interloper_.

- Network Finder: sweeps current area for any network it can connect to, such as the Internet, an Intranet, and the like.

- Network Connections: enables wireless connection via minute æther particles (see Chapter 5 for more information on "æther").

- Display: Display UI as a holographic projection coming from the blue gemstone.

- Assault Mode: transforms the R-Scanner into a small handcannon utilizing a beam of A-Grade æther (see Chapter 14 for its first use)

15 JAN 2011 EDIT: fixed up the chapter's horizontal breaks and also improved the start of the chapter. Made it more... descriptive, I hope.

28 MAR 2011 EDIT: revised narration to better fit events and revelations in later chapters


	3. Discrimination

**Author's Notes:**

- The third chapter was split in two due to the absurd length of **20 000 words**. _Discrimination _is the first half of the originally intended chapter 3. The second half was added a few weeks after uploading due to delay (refer to next chapter).

- The word count of this post is around 9530 according to MS Word.

- All reviews and criticisms are welcome. :)

* * *

Ken Ichijouji was compassion incarnate. His kind smile and purple eyes intensified the shame consuming Commandramon. Forced to lie to the Tactician, the human half of Stingmon, the military dinosaur hesitated. "The m-mission was," he cut himself short, doubts lingering. Ken and his partner would find out about Veemon sooner or later, so wasn't it better to give them the truth right then and there?

Commandramon's orange eyes peered into Ken's, which exuded an aura of innocence not even a decade could take away. "It was a-a-a su-success, sir." Disgrace was the root of his trembling voice.

"We, w-we, were," he explained. "Able to, uhh, drive the invading DSI forces away f-from the Spire." Commandramon gulped. Churning out one lie after another was more difficult than anticipated. Stingmon's immobile bug-eyes perfectly hid any emotion, leaving him nervous. Was he just staring? Or were gears turning inside that mind of his?

"You look ill, Commandramon," boomed Stingmon, the baritone of his voice commanding authority and respect, though concealing within a surreptitious concern. "What's the matter?"

Ken focused his eyes on Commandramon. He couldn't maintain eye contact with the screen. How should he respond? _Lord Veemon was a trusted friend of Lord Stingmon. A battle partner! And his human, the Tactician's best friend. _Perspiration dripped down the dinosaur's snout. _I can't just say "we lost Lord Veemon"! I cannot!"_

"Answer us!" demanded Ken. He couldn't tell whether the Tactician sounded angry, or concerned over his inner plight.

Commandramon bit his lip. _I must endure. _Head bowed, "We… lost many of our comrades. I, I'm sorry." _For the sake of the Digital World!_

"A pyrrhic victory," remarked Ken, the last word extracting a cringe from Commandramon. He took his seat on an airborne chair appearing from beyond the screen. "Who died? How many were lost?"

"Almost, everyone…" At least this was true.

Ichijouji's eyes narrowed. Was he angry at him? Or was he enraged by the losses Commandramon incurred? Within the safe confines of his mind, Commandramon pleaded again and again: _please don't ask about Lord Veemon! _Lying about the victory was one thing, but lying about the Digimon of Miracles was a different matter altogether.

Ken jolted, slamming the armrest. "You had **several Adults** at the Spire of Courage!" His violent reaction reminded Commandramon of his days as the Kaiser, though he knew the catastrophic cost for victory demanded it. "There were _plenty_ of Elecmon and Mushroomon in this mission! I even approved Veemon's request to join you! How could the DSI defeat many of our friends so **easily**?" His tone befitted a strategist and a concerned leader. Rarely did Ken reveal his weak side to anyone other than the Chosen and his fellow humans. "We had the advantage!"

"Everything collapsed when we lost Golemon…"

"What do you mean?" replied Stingmon. "The strategy Ken and I devised was designed to _minimize_ losses!"

"But there were too many grunts, Lord Stingmon!" blurted Commandramon. "Some of them managed to sneak past the Elecmon-Mushroomon line!"

"You and Veemon were there to back him up, weren't you?"

"…Golemon and Lord Veemon were too busy arguing about killing humans."

"AGAIN?" Ken slapped his own face. "When is that naïve digimon _ever_ going to learn?"

"What about you?" pressured Stingmon. "Where _were _you?"

.

He stammered. "I-I, was rechecking our escape route… and the status of the battle with the Guardromon."

"WHY?" Ken yelled. "_Nobody_ could've gone behind our lines thanks to the terrain!"

"Even so," countered the dinosaur, "I couldn't just assume! I needed to check on our first defense line _and_ the rear!"

Ignoring him, Ken went ballistic. "So Golemon fell because of _that_? We **LOST** many of our friends because _you_ just decided to go back up and have a status check?" He slammed the armrest again. "We assigned Monochromon to guard the rear! You had _four_ Guardromon keeping track of things! There were _six_ Gotsumon patrolling the rear! Stingmon and I took so many precautions, and you could've gone to the Guardromon **after** those two idiots were done arguing!"

Commandramon raised a single finger. "ONE, human appeared in that forest, Tactician!"

Ken grunted. "What difference could that _one_ human make?"

"A HELL LOT!"

He sighed. "Explain yourself."

"He singlehandedly _deleted_ Monochromon," Commandramon replied, "with nothing but a black sword. The Gotsumon confirmed it. Lord Veemon and I witnessed their panicking." Ken was rendered speechless. "Thanks to that _one_ human, we lost our escape route. If that wasn't enough, _three_ soldiers broke past the first line without a scratch, catching up with me and Lord Veemon! He needed to escape; those three wanted him _dead._"

Stingmon, probably thinking of his fellow Chosen, asked, "_Speaking _of Veemon, where **is** he?"

Commandramon nearly jumped, retaining his composure at the last second. _Damn. _"He's," he began, slowing down his response. _Got to think this through. _"He's at, at… at the Clinic of course!" He slammed a clenched fist into his open palm. "Yeah, that's right!" He nodded. "Lord Veemon's in the clinic."

"What happened?"

"One of the three shot him in the leg before we regrouped with the Guardromon to drive them off. The Gotsumon came to help us when they came down panicking after seeing the other human kill our rear guard."

"And we lost all ten digimon to **three** humans?" Ken was incredulous. And why not? The story seemed so, fantastic.

"They had experimental technology on them," expounded the dinosaur. "I don't know how they got it, but they have **digivices**." Preempting any replies, "They let the humans tap into the energy you Chosen use for evolution, and use it to, erhm, 'evolve' themselves.

"They retreated, leaving me and Lord Veemon extremely exhausted. We pulled out of the field, and watched the battle from the summit. All the grunts died, but not without killing _all_ our monsters."

"…so we lost the Spire?" wondered Stingmon.

Sweat dropped from the dinosaur's snout like bullets. "Huh? I didn't say that!"

"All the monsters died," insinuated the insect. "You and Veemon survived, and the humans lost a significant number of forces. But you had to go back here. So that means no one's defending the Spire of Courage _right now_ and it's free for the taking?"

"We can always throw in more reinforcements from the base tomorrow," Commandramon voiced, hoping his response was satisfactory.

"So how'd you get away from that human?"

Commandramon stared at Ken. "**What** human?"

"The one that k-killed Monochromon." _Did he just stutter?_

"Well," his voice trailed. "The Gotsumon told us he seemed lost and heavily disoriented. Lord Veemon and I eluded him, though we almost ran into him by the digiport."

Ken nodded, and managed to smile cheerfully, sending chills up Commandramon's spine. "I'm glad we defended the Spire in the end," the Tactician articulated. "But it just"—his tone turned solemn—"makes me sad so many friends had to die." He rose from the chair. "I'm sorry, Commandramon," he choked, clasping his mouth with quivering hands. "But we'll end this conversation prematurely." Ken flew from the screen. Heard in the background was a stifled vomiting and the slamming of a door.

Earning his reprieve, Commandramon could finally unwind. Lying to Ken wasn't easy. Despite the intimidating clothes and stern tone, deep inside the 21-year-old man was a soft, kind heart.

But the dinosaur's nightmare was just beginning. Stingmon stared straight at the camera, his helmet-like head capturing most of the television screen. The insect seemed to be perusing him. Commandramon worried whether the insect had seen through him, wondering if he was able to grasp the deceit in spite of his poker face.

"Y-Yes, Lord Stingmon?" stumbled Commandramon.

The Digimon of Kindness did not speak a word, opting instead to give Commandramon an unflinching stare. He heard the worried beating of his own heart as he gazed at the screen. The silence was deafening, almost driving the military dinosaur insane. Guilt began to permeate Commandramon's poker face.

He closed his eyes, trying to will away his regrets and compunctions, but the guilt kept returning. _Lord Veemon died. We __**lost**__ the Spire of Courage. I only came back 'cause I was spared! But I just couldn't crush your partner, Lord Stingmon! We'd lose the War!_

Slumping on the floor, "I CONFESS!" Commandramon jabbered. "We **LOST** the battle, Lord Stingmon! Lord Veemon's been killed! I'm sorry," he continued to ejaculate. "I'm _sorry_! The three humans were too powerful; I _barely_ escaped with my—" He reopened his eyes, only to see the empty static of the television screen. _Did he catch my confession?_

Switching the machine off, he leaned his head on the monitor, worried about the meeting. A weak rasp slipped out his mouth. _This will be a loooong night._

* * *

Daybreak at the Great Forest: a most alluring sight. Imagine the golden rays of the sun weaving its way through the leaves, its light penetrating the multiple layers of chlorophyll. The entire forest is basked in the lattice of fertile green and warm yellow, its denizens fully immersed in the morning glory.

The morning crept in like any other. But today would be different. The Great Forest was set asunder. Noises of dissent boomed. Stifled gasps and silently ferocious stares filled the air. Truly, change was on its course.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Christopher stood before steel gates, beside him a cheerful Veemon fresh from a good night's sleep. The gates of the satellite base were open, beckoned by two flowers perched on the top of the concrete walls towering above them. He yawned. _Last night was terrible_. Walking in the thick, shadowy forest was hard, but finding the path to the base _and_ managing the whole fiasco with the Woodmon made the trip exhausting.

.

"I'm getting bored," mumbled the blue dragon, his eyelids drooping. The battle on the Spire made him weak, the bullet in his leg and the slash wound on his belly trophies of the hell he had gone through that afternoon. _Vee has all the luck_, Chris mused. Veemon didn't have to do much walking. All he had to do was keep his balance on Chris's shoulders, giving him directions when needed.

Sadly, Veemon couldn't perform this easy responsibility. He had fallen asleep soon after Christopher entered the Great Forest, with nothing but an instruction to "look out for the stream". The blond-haired man had forgotten the rest of that conversation. Admittedly, the digimon falling asleep was not much of a problem, though Christopher wished the Chosen didn't drool a lot. As he plodded deeper into the Great Forest, Chris began to think he was lost, seeing the tree trunks cluster together, the terrain becoming uneven.

Faint trickling of water entered his ears. One hundred paces brought them to the shallow banks of a stream. The water was clear, barely six inches deep. _Where do I go now?_ He glimpsed left and right. Downstream or upstream? On this side or that? Veemon would no doubt remain asleep if Chris acted on his own, but the dragon needed help from his wounds _and_ a well-deserved rest in a safe place. Christopher needed the same. Sitting down on a nearby tree root, he set the slumbering digimon down beside him. _We'll be parting ways after, Vee._

Listening to Veemon tell stories of his wonderful partnership with a certain Daisuke gave him the impression that the little dragon had in him the makings of a great friend, of someone who could be counted on to stick by one's side and follow through to the end. His head drooped. Veemon was better off not involved with him. There was a place for him in this world. It would be **cruel **and** selfish** of Chris to drag the blue dragon and his friends down with _his_ battles, _his_ problems. Christopher had to deal with all these on his own, though he _**really**_ appreciated the concern Veemon was giving him. To think they had met only hours ago.

.

"Psst!" he hissed, patting Veemon. "Wake up, Vee. Wake. Up."

He groaned. "Mmmmhuh? Oh, hey Chris," his childlike voice murmured. He yawned.

"We're at the stream," spoke Chris. "Which way do we go?"

Lazily panning his eyes, "Hmm, did you… cross?"

"Not yet. I wanted to rest first." Chris glanced down. "…and to do some thinking on my own," he mumbled.

"Okay," said the drowsy digimon. "Cross the water and"—another yawn—"head downstream. You'll see the path when…" He fell asleep, snoring. Was Veemon _that_ tired? Chris wondered what exactly he went through earlier that afternoon. Sauntering to the stream, he banished his thirst with its flowing water. _Now that I think about it, I never asked Veemon about that._

Carefully placing the sleeping Chosen on his shoulders, Christopher went on his way and continued his ruminations, one hand playing with Veemon's toes. Why did his Scanner malfunction when he arrived? Why was it only beginning to recover now? His free hand clutched his bandaged abdomen. It hurt. Was blood loss the reason for his weakness? Was the stress of near discovery a cause of his collapse? Or was it— a flash of the priestess's face interrupted his train of never-ending questions, summoning in its stead a cold, forlorn emptiness.

He clutched his medallion tightly, willing the dreadful feeling away. _Don't succumb_ _to despair_, he prayed. _I can't give up now. _It departed seconds later, relieving him.

.

How long has he been walking? How many times has he sat down for rest? Thinking of Veemon doing nothing but sleep on his shoulders and drool while he's at it made Chris frown. The dragon in deep sleep, waking him up was probably a bad idea... however tempting it was.

Chris was about to succumb out of frustration when he spotted the so-called "signs": patches of oddly-colored wood on the Great Forest's redwood trunks. Six of the trees had these, and between them all was a massive overgrowth even thicker than the ones running along the stream. The odd colors looked authentic. Not even paint.

Navigating the clumped fauna was going to be hell. _Vee, this better not get us lost_. Placing his trust on the monster's words, Chris stepped forward, ready to brave the overgrowth. Cracking sounds rumbled all around, and in moments six digimon had him surrounded. Each monster was shaped like a willow tree, less its leaves. They had two pairs of arms, one smaller than the other. _Guardians! _Before Chris could do a thing, the monsters' smaller arms grabbed hold.

"A human?" One croaked. Each tree had a pair of ogling, no, _inspecting_ eyes. "How'd a human find the path?" Christopher's hands inched to the DITE hidden in his coat; he couldn't afford making sudden movements, not with the wooden arms gripping his body. Grasping the piece of metal, he prepared to strike. _Resto—_

"T-that, that digimon!" a second voice babbled. Another tree pointed a large finger at Chrisopher, or rather, _above_ him. "I-it's…!"

"It's Lord Veemon!"

Chris had forgotten completely about the slumbering dragon. He blinked, dropping his right arm. _Veemon will be mad if I do anything to them. _The living trees shook him violently, not caring whether Veemon would be roused from his sleep. "Why is he with you?" A third voice demanded. "What'd you do with him, human? Woodmon wants to know!"

"You tortured him, didn't you?" accused a fourth. "That's why you're here, isn't it?" Their rough handling was making Veemon stir. Already Chris could hear him moan gently. "What's your plan, _human_?" continued the voice.

"Stop it!" protested Chris. "We're _both_ injured! Veemon's just sleeping! I did **nothing** to your precious—"

"We **don't care** if you're injured or"—the shakings ceased—"Wait! Lord Veemon's also…?"

They released their hold on Chris, though maintained their blue eyes on him. Chris was bothered by the looks they were giving him. _They don't trust me, do they? _But he brushed it off. _Forget it. I'm too tired for this crap._

"Look, we just ran into each other." He pointed out the clotted cuts and bruises on Veemon's body. "He needs help. I'm just bringing Vee to where he can get it."

They huddled together, away from him. Chris rolled his eyes. _It'd be __**much**__ easier sneaking past these idiots. _Before he knew it, the Woodmon were back, one of them with its palms out. "Here."

"Wha—?"

"Give Lord Veemon to me, human," it commanded. "We'll take it from here." _What the hell! _"And we'll let you go as thanks for returning him to his friends."

"You must think we're joking," spoke another, the fourth voice. "With that look on your face."

"But we're not," persisted one more. "Give Lord Veemon to us now, and **GO, AWAY.**" The last two words were spoken as cold and impersonal and distant as verbally possible.

One of Christopher's eyes twitched. A bead of sweat tumbled down his head. "Don't screw with me!" He shoved the two branches away. "Veemon _promised_ to help me, too!"

"Humans are **so** gullible," rejoined the Woodmon. "Lord Veemon was just bluffing you."

"I've been with him the _entire night_," Chris reasoned, clasping the dragon's left leg. He didn't want these trees seizing his only ticket to medical help. "He's been telling me _loads_ before he fell asleep, and I **know** he's not the type to lie. Not to a friend," he fumed.

"Whatever," snubbed the rejected tree. "Give him to us, and we'll let you go." He tendered his wooden hands. _Why these effing…!_

Leaning forward, Christopher gave the Woodmon the coldest stare he could muster in his current condition. "I was being nice," he muttered gravely. "Let me through. Or _else_."

The azure eyes narrowed. "What're you getting at, human?"

He took out the DITE. "I'll kill Veemon,"

The trees could barely muffle their laughter. "Mmmmfff! In front of us **SIX**? With _that_ little piece of junk?"

"I never knew humans could be sooooooo stupid!" added one of them.

_Restoration. _"Do I **look** like I'm joking?"

They paled at the sight of the sword, its ebony blade hovering menacingly. One of the trees shuffled to its comrade. "T-the ru-rumors were t-true!" Chris could hear him whisper. "L-look! He's got the _black sword._"

Quick glances. The Woodmon nodded to each other, murmuring. "H-he's the one who killed…?" "He's bluffing, isn't he?" "Do you think we s-should—?" "NO! If the rumors say—"

"WELL?" Christopher snarled, raising the sword to the Chosen's forehead. "If you're not letting me pass, I'll **stab** him." He glared. "Then you six are NEXT." Veemon continued to snore, oblivious to the threat on his life.

"Alright, alright!" they yelped, jumping aside. "You can pass!"

Chris smirked, proceeding into the overgrowth. "_Much_ better." _Now __**that's**__ a bluff._

.

"You'll regret this, human!" called out one of the Woodmon. "You won't leave the Satellite Base alive!"

Scoffing, he retracted the sword, feeling his way through the clumped bushes. The forest floor became smoother, and freer of roots. A path soon began to form. After a minute of blind strides, Chris reached forward and, with effort, split the mass of leaves blocking his view. He found a hidden path, winding clearly through the maze of redwood trunks and the shrubbery around them.

.

The path was long. It fatigued Chris to traverse it. But it was understandable: he was already exhausted, and his abdomen throbbed. At one point, Christopher had to sit down, rest, and let the pain subside. Only when dawn broke did he find the gates at last.

* * *

Veemon's eyes bloomed slowly, taking in the morning light, focusing. He found himself sitting on Christopher's shoulders. Peering through his hair, he could see steel gates in the distance. He yawned, licking the corners of his mouth. "Hey," he spoke sleepily. "Morning, Chris. Where're we now?"

"Your base," he replied.

The dragon blinked. "Weren't you, held up by the Woodmon?"

"Yeah," Chris scoffed. "But they were easily taken care of."

It took a while for Veemon to register what he meant by that. Gasping, he smacked the side of Chris's head. "You killed them! You didn't have to—"

"I _knew_ you'd react like that," he sneered, reaching up and patting the Chosen's head.

"So…"

"Didn't do anything. Took a while convincing them to let me pass, though. By the way… that _hurt_."

Veemon relaxed. Chris had him worried there. Why else wouldn't he? The man was accustomed to responding with an aggressive self-defense. It happened three times the previous night: their first meeting, the close call with the Black Modifier, and that weird moment near the Spire's digiport. There was no doubt he trusted Chris, yet something about him bothered Veemon.

Shrugging off the thought, with a glance he saw two plants standing on the walls, their reddish bulbs oriented to the sun. Crimson petals bloomed around their necks, flower-like patterns colored their hands. A single stigma shot out of each one. "Floramon!" called the Chosen, waving bubbly.

The floral hoods that were their bulbs broke apart, revealing smooth, green chins underneath. Blue eyes peered at the human and digimon. Their slender bodies stirred. "Lord Veemon!" exclaimed one, wrapping her golden stigma around an implement and rappelling down. The other remained still, wary of the human.

"I'm glad you're alright!" spoke the first, running to the pair. "When Commandramon came alone, we thought the humans got you! Then there's this rumor about a powerful human with a black sw—" She stopped, perceiving Christopher. Floramon gazed up, frightened. Was it the lack of a digimon partner? Or was it that this human seemed… out of place? "L-Lord Veemon? W-wh-who…?"

"No worries, Floramon!" Veemon patted the human's shoulder, motioning for him to let him down. His voice calmed her. "Chris's with me." He even smiled.

"R-really?"

"We're safe here." He limped towards Floramon, and pointed to the hole in his leg. "See? Without him I would've _never _made it back!"

"What happened to you, Lord Veemon?"

Grinning confidently, "Nothing Lalamon can't handle. So let us in! Commandramon's here, right? That's great…"

A petal-like finger was trained at Christopher. "What… about him?"

"I told you already, he's with me!" Veemon laughed. "Christopher's very desperate for _my_ help." The man gave him a funny look.

Floramon hesitantly tapped her fingers. "I don't know," she delayed. "Leomon and the others won't—"

"Don't kill yourself over it. They'll understand."

"B-but!"

The blue dragon waved his hand, dismissing her worry. "It'll turn out fine! Trust me on this."

.

Floramon's smile was subdued. She averted her cerulean eyes to Christopher and back. "I hope you're right, Lord Veemon." Whipping out a yellow vine to her perch atop the wall, she pulled herself up and briefed her companion. They then gestured to some monsters inside; soon the steel gates opened for them.

Apprehension gripped him. The other digimon despised humans with a passion. Veemon always found it wrong, no matter how many times Golemon, or any other monster, lectured him in the past. Christopher wasn't getting a pleasant welcome. He might stir chaos among his friends, _especially_ when they find the black sword. Glancing, the Chosen knew Chris was worth his trust. Never mind his shadowy past: Veemon didn't know Daisuke much either when they first met. Actions were more relevant in cementing friendships. He hoped Chris would be given the opportunity to make up for Monochromon.

Chris was obviously distressed by the gasps and stares coming from within. "Relax," Veemon beamed, tugging at his arm. "With me by your side, what's the worst that could happen?" Feeling his acquiescence, the blue dragon cheerfully led Christopher inside, unaware of the dire consequences this innocent gesture of amity will bring to the Digital World, the War, the Twelve, and himself…

.

* * *

.

Leomon leaned on a tree trunk behind the barracks. Eye closed, he reveled in the rest he deserved. Commandramon's lone return sparked rumors around the base, persisting, even assimilating elements of that secret conversation with Commandramon, which held a summary of the true story. How it started was a complete mystery, but soon the "human wielding the black sword" became a popular topic in hours, with many engaged in animated discussion, and others falling into despair.

Losing the Digimon of Miracles was one of the worst things that could ever happen. It didn't matter if Veemon was next-to-useless, equivalent to an annoying child without a guardian. Successor to Agumon's glory, he was the most powerful of the Chosen. His death meant victory for the humans in the long run.

Calming down the desolate and the talkative took all night. Leomon, exhausted, only had two hours' worth of sleep when a commotion sparked throughout the base, centered near the area. Commandramon wasn't rushing out of his quarters in the Command Center to quell the accruing rage. Was he asleep? Or was he so worried he couldn't hear the uproar?

He stretched, then proceeded to the steel gates. The great lion gasped when he saw a **human** enter the compound. Perusals failed him: his clothes and face was foreign in comparison to the enemy, the Tactician, or even the Twelve themselves. _Who is he?_ The man was accompanied by a strangely familiar blue digimon. _It can't be. _Leomon rubbed his eyes, blinking several times. _Lord Veemon!_ Leomon bounded for the Chosen with large strides, relieved to see him.

"What's this human doing here!" snorted a group of Tyranomon, towering over the Child digimon competing with each other for a closer look. "His kind isn't welcome here, Lord Veemon."

"He's with me!" Veemon insisted. "So what if he's human? He's my friend!"

"Lord Veemon," thundered Leomon, stomping to the pair. The Tyranomon shut their mouths in the great lion's presence. He hugged the dragon. "W-Where you've been? When Commandramon returned alone, we all thought you were…"

"Well, I'm still alive!" he laughed. "I'm being asked all sorts of questions, so I think _everyone_ knows what happened?"

Leomon affirmed, "Yes, but Commandramon told us you were **killed** by the human with the black sword!" He stared at the dragon. "How _did_ you escape from him?"

The Chosen deferred his response, maintaining eye contact. Leomon discounted all possibilities of lies escaping his mouth. _Lord Veemon isn't the type to lie!_ Ten seconds were spent in apprehensive silence, when Veemon suddenly broke off, averting his eyes toward the human fleetingly. He had forgotten about him. "And who is _that_?"

"A friend. Thanks to him, uhm, I got away from the guy with the black sword."

Leomon scanned the human, disliking everything about him. He appeared battle-ready with his white staff and black armor. Leomon could even see the silhouette of a gun in his coat. The silver gauntlet gleamed suspiciously in the morning sun. _A friend?_ _How can you call someone like __**this**__ a friend?_

"Why did you bring him with you, Lord Veemon?" he roared. "The Woodmon could've taken you out of _his_ hands!"

"But I promised!" blurted Veemon. Strange how he couldn't answer his other question. "He wanted to help me get treated; the same goes for him!"

_Treated?_ Only then did Leomon notice the bruises covering Veemon's body. A slash wound ran across his white belly. There was a burgundy hole on his right leg, presumably made by a bullet. The Chosen stood awkwardly, and probably limped just to walk. His SIG P39 wasn't in its holster. The human wasn't much better off either: just as bruised, though with crimson bandages on his abdomen instead.

"Hmph," he grunted, pointing a wary finger at him. "_Who_ is he?" Apparent was his disgust.

"I just told you, Leomon!" Veemon was getting frustrated. "He's my **friend**."

The lion brought his face closer to the blue dragon's. "And where'd you meet him?"

"In the cave." Veemon's breath was foul, but Leomon could care less. He was growing wary of the dragon's responses. They seemed to defend the human. But why?

Leomon demanded, "But how'd he get there? Our scouts, the battle, and the Spire's terrain would've made _that _difficult!"

Veemon was nonchalant. "How should I know? I just found him there, and in _that_ condition!"

Leomon glared into his dilating, crimson orbs. Veemon wasn't the type to lie, but his responses were guarded, deflecting any claims of knowledge to his friend's origin, veering away from explaining his escape from the man with the black sword. Behind his red eyes kindled the determination to defend his own decisions. There was something suspicious about all this, and the other monsters could feel it. They were joyous over Veemon's miraculous return, but disgusted towards the partner-less human accompanying him. Impatient snarls echoed in the crowd as tensions rose.

There were only **three** explanations for the human's presence. One, he was a spy for the DSI. Two, he was a misplaced civilian. The first would explain Monochromon's death and the wounds he had, but not the mysterious equipment on him. The second, his method of entry, as the Digital World could've summoned a 3rd generation Chosen Child. But it couldn't account for his strange clothes, his _age_, and his lack of a digivice and digimon partner. The only one left was…

.

"This human," drummed Leomon, soaring over Veemon with a great leap, "is the **root** of all this unnecessary stress!" The blue dragon chased after him.

"LEOMON, NO! HE'S MY—"

"I'm sorry Lord Veemon! But with the DSI knocking at our doors, we cannot risk internal strife." Raising his left fist, Leomon prepared to execute the human. "BECAUSE OF YOUR **IMMATURE PROMISES**!" A raging lion-shaped flame enveloped his paw. _Nobody survives it point blank. _

Veemon turned to the human. "WAIT! CHRISTOPHER, **DON'T **USE YOUR DI—!" He was too late.

"FIST OF THE BEAST KING!"

"RESTORATION!"

.

Every digimon watching gasped. _H-he, h-h-he-he blocked me!_ The infamous black sword gleamed in the light, held by a single hand. The sword had stopped the attack, summoned by the human in one moment. Catching everyone's eyes was not the human's exceptional reaction time or immense strength, but the black sword.

It all made sense. Veemon **knew** he was the wielder of the black sword. It explained why he veered away from the topic when asked about his escape, why he broke eye contact just to glance at the human, and why he had no explanation for his sheer presence. Leomon understood why Veemon was so defensive. _But how can you call someone who __**freely **__chose to mercilessly kill your own comrade a friend, Lord Veemon?_ The great lion's fist shook. "You…" the human called Christopher skipped back, cautious of Leomon's malicious eyes.

"You **actually** trust him, Lord Veemon? Leomon unsheathed the sword on his waist, spitting on Chris's face. He sent Veemon a brief, hostile stare, before dashing towards the human. "HE DECEIVED YOU!"

"BEAST SWORD!" cried Leomon, bringing the sword down. Christopher, wiping off the glob of saliva, had no time to dodge. He raised the sword and met the strike. His strength was remarkable, enduring the lion's gravity. A small crater formed around the blond-haired man.

* * *

Leomon redirected his angle of assault, pivoting his arm. Christopher dodged the horizontal slash, somersaulting above Leomon. He landed beside Veemon, complaining. "I thought you'll make them listen!"

"I **tried**!" Veemon snapped. "But—"

"Get away from Lord Veemon, filthy human!" Leomon thundered, swiping away at Chris.

Chris dodged one slash after another. He anticipated an upward slash from the lion. "You're not dodging everything, human!" Leomon preempted this, digging his sword into the ground.

"BEAST SWORD" A strong swipe sent chunks of earth flying towards Christopher. He sidestepped, noticing Leomon charge toward him with a smirk on his face. Chris flexed his body to avoid a stab, only to find the lion in front of him.

He received a kick in the face. "You're getting slower." Christopher flew near the wall close to the Command Center, landing on the ground face first. Leomon tore foreward, fist set aflame. He had no intention of giving the human time to recover, closing the distance for another point-blank strike.

Veemon pursued them the fastest he can go, limping.

"FIST OF THE BEAST KING!"

Chris rolled out of the way; the fireball hit the earth instead, creating a small crater. Leomon slashed, but the human raised his sword, blocking the weapon. Finding an opening below, Chris extended both legs, grabbed the lion's left foot and pulled. Leomon fell on his back; Chris threw the DITE into the air, flipping backwards to the wall, kick-jumping off it. He landed behind rising, dazed lion.

Slamming his elbow on Leomon's back, the sheer strength of his strike sent the lion crashing into the wall. A small section cracked. Christopher grabbed the falling sword and trained it at the pinned lion's left arm, about to stab a vital muscle when he felt Veemon tugging at his sword arm.

The dragon, shaking his head, had astonishment written on his face. "Stop," he managed. Further back were the other digimon gaping at the sight. Chris slackened, retracting the DITE as the Chosen wanted. But Leomon saw none of this and pushed himself out of the hole the moment Chris let down his guard, revolving in mid-air, shoving the human back with a turning-side kick.

* * *

Eyes trained on Christopher alone, Leomon ignored the blue dragon beside him as he leapt into the air, conjuring the hottest, largest ball of flame he could summon. The man saw the attack coming, but the moment he tried to move, he keeled, clutching his abdomen. _You're mine!_

"This is for Monochromon!" roared the lion. "FIST OF THE BEAST KING!" As he released the fireball, Leomon perceived the azure Veemon running to Christopher, trying to pull him away in futility.

"I won't, let you," he panted, glaring at Leomon for a second. The pained look on his face testified to the pain he endured just to run with the bullet lodged in his right leg. "Just because… he's human."

"Lord Veemon!" cried Leomon. "Get out of there! You'll die!" He was ignored. _Why do you defend him? Why can't you throw away your naivety?_

Looking at the others from above, "WHAT'RE YOU DOING?" he scolded. "SAVE THE CHOSEN!"

* * *

Veemon struggled to drag Christopher out of harm's way. "C'mon, Chris, **move **it!" Leomon's fireball was searing. The heat was strong even with the ball of flame meters away, intensifying as it closed in. _I won't survive that, but I __**must **__save him! _The last thing he wanted was for a friend to die. "I'm not leaving with—gah!"

Sweaty hands made him lose his grip. Veemon fell on his back. The fireball, fast, was too close now. Death approached. And it was all because of Leomon's prejudice? Simply because he brought a human into the base? It didn't matter if he killed Monochromon. Chris was a good guy, through and through. Daisuke would've agreed if he was there…

"This, isn't so hot."

It was astonishing to see Chris stand. Not a single drop of sweat ran down his head."You're so stupid, Vee," he scolded. "Don't you remember, what I told you last night?" Taking a deep breath, "Restoration." A fierce slash towards the fireball summoned strong gusts of wind, easily extinguishing the fiery orb.

The human fell forward, palpitating. As he lost consciousness, he smirked. "Besides, I cannot die here…" His voice was low and weak. "I must…" Christopher was gone.

* * *

Leomon landed near Veemon and the fallen human, clueless to what just happened. The black sword was in his hands, nothing more but a small piece of metal. He saw Veemon stowing the weapon in his coat, rising against Leomon with a fierce glare on his face. _The way you protect this human…_

He entertained the dragon's determined eyes. _I wonder what motivates you, Lord Veemon. He's not even your partner. _How could he kill the human now? He defended Veemon at the last second and even reproached him for what almost cost him his life. Christopher evidently meant no harm, even if he _was_ the one who slaughtered Monochromon. Leomon had been the first to attack, and he knew the other monsters shared in his distrust. They were in the wrong, and it nearly cost a terrible mistake. "As you wish," he acceded. "We'll let this human stay."

However, their doubt was not misplaced. Christopher, no matter how worthy he was of Veemon's trust, was still human, if he could be called such. Humans other than the Chosen Children cannot be trusted. This custom was not rampant out of pure hate. Leomon assigned suspicion to everything about Chris. Why can he fight Leomon on equal terms and _defeat_ him while wounded? Normal humans would've tried dodging his first attack and end up getting seriously hurt, but not dead. And what was this black sword? _Veemon called it a "die"_. What kind of a weapon was that? Surely there was a consequence to this decision.

"But remember this, Lord Veemon." Leomon's stone gaze stopped him from making the slightest smile. "If anything else happens, **you** shoulder all responsibility."

He commanded, "Tell me when he wakes up. I'll need to talk to him." Backpedaling, "Lalamon!" Three bud-like monsters branched themselves from the group of assorted monsters. "Bring these two to the Clinic, and take the bullet out of Lord Veemon's leg." He looked at their injuries. "Give them the pills we got from Dr. Kido last week. They'll need it." _Like Commandramon before them. _Sheathing his sword, he gesticulated with his free hand. "The rest of you, SCATTER!"

.

Sauntering to the wall, he gasped when he saw the hole in the wall, which extended all the way to the other side, even if the other opening was quite small. Glimpsing Christopher as he was carried into the Command Center, he wondered. Who _was_ he? Why was he in the Digital World? But will Christopher talk in the first place? The Chosen may trust him, but if he was anything like a human, he wouldn't tell Veemon _everything_ about himself in a single day. Leomon was sure Chris had his own secrets. Whether this gut feeling came from intuition, experience, or pure discrimination didn't matter. A rough interrogation was due…

* * *

Lucille's performance report was tedious. Boring, rather. The Vice-Chair yawned at one point, and as soon as she finished, she was permitted to retire in her own tent, while her leader willingly waited for the "other two". Lucy relished this, as the constant click-clack of his silver Zippo was driving her insane.

Hours later, Colonel Reeves and Aldo Kikuchi stirred her in the midst of her sleep, answering to a _second _summons by the Vice-Chair. With the Spire of Courage as the backdrop, glowing in the morning sun, Lucille briskly walked to the white tent. Her wristwatch read 0930 hours. She unzipped the flaps and stepped into the cool chamber. _Hm, the AC's on._ Reeves and Kikuchi had gone in ahead of her. The Colonel was presenting the Vice-Chair what appears to be a map on his laptop—state of the art, exceeding industry standards and boasting usability in the Digital World.

"Sir," Reeves pointed to a red dot on the map several kilometers east. "Like I said, we captured a Commandramon after yesterday's ambush—a key enemy figure—and set him loose with a bullet in his leg _modified_ to project a traceable signal." He tapped the monitor. "As you can see—"

"The base isn't too far from here!" Aldo blurted. "**And** we can follow the exact path he took! Isn't that—?"

"Be professional!" hissed Lucy, elbowing the newbie's mouth. Clearing her throat, she proposed. "Since we have the location of their base, I suggest we send infiltration teams to gather intel and prepare for assault within the week."

Reeves grinned. "There's no—"

"Need for that," took over the Vice-Chair. Click. "We can attack _tonight._"

_Tonight?_ Lucille was stunned. "A lot of our men are _tired_ from yesterday's battle, sir! And the entire force is currently spread out on several sectors in the Digital World. There's no way we could—"

"I was referring to you **three**," countered the Vice-Chair. Clack. "We've also got twelve newbies from Junko and Ivy diving in from M&A in a few hours. That's fourteen Modifiers total… All under the Colonel of course."

She fumed. "But our digivices! Our _weaponry_! There're probably **at least** fifty monsters there, and we _don't know _their demographics! We'll run out of ammo and power when we get in there!"

Click. "R&D's working very hard to improve the digivices."

Astonishment gleamed in her eyes. "You _know_ I've been around R&D a few times, sir." _Why is he pushing this? _"I can tell you right now it takes a long time to alter even **one** digivice due to structural issues."

Dauntless by the rebuttal, "Diaz, the head scientist **guaranteed** one of you will hold an upgraded digivice by this afternoon. It has an exponentially better power cap, _and_ it has an ability you'll find VERY interesting." Clack.

"One digivice won't make a difference," she crudely responded. "We must know the base's demographics! We'll be going in blind! There's probably plenty of Adults. Maybe even Perfects and—"

"Shut your trap, Lucy," barked the irked Colonel. "We're borrowing prototype weapons _precisely_ for that."

"Prototype weapons?" She was baffled. "Since **when** has R&D been developing new weapons?"

Click. "This morning," the Vice-Chair nonchalantly muttered. He cocked his head towards the two Modifiers. "DSI extends much of its gratitude to the Colonel and Sgt. Kikuchi here." Clack. "For their ground-breaking contribution to something R&D's been investigating for the past two years."

"All this after **last night**?" _What's going on…?_

"We'll brief you when we're done with the operation." Reeves brushed his spiky hair up.

"Colonel," spoke the Vice-Chair. "By 1900 hours you'll have _ten_ of the new weaponry. Our head scientist just finished a design for a suitable chassis for the core, but you _might_ end up d-modifying a new module just to get the gun to shoot since production's being rushed as we speak."

"What about the new digivice, sir?" Aldo excitedly asked.

He chuckled, tweaking his shades. "Sorry, sergeant, but it'll be with Reeves. We can't have anyone stealing it. Even _one_ in enemy hands can change the entire war."

"Aww…"

"Quit whining, newb," harassed Reeves, slapping him in the back. "Sir, what's the plan this time?"

The Vice-Chair smirked. Click. "I'm happy to tell you: **You're** completely in charge of the operation." Reeves nodded. "You _are_ aware of your situation, are you, Colonel? No other intel on the enemy base, fifteen Modifiers including yourself, and ten new guns. Those who don't get them are issued with standard gear, but you can tailor their weapons as you see fit."

"So I can assign grenade launchers for bombardment teams?"

"Exactly." Clack. "And your objective, Colonel—"

"Kill every single bastard in the base by tomorrow morning," finished Reeves.

"**IF** that's what you want," shrugged the Vice-Chair. "M&A's requiring you to secure the coordinates of the main base for the Digital Dive System." He leaned back on his chair. "Shrewd as you are, I'm _very_ interested to see what you can come up here." He brushed his dirty blond hair, murmuring: "You could even get promoted for this."

Lucille watched Colonel Reeves stroke his chin. It was a nice opportunity for his career. With unlimited creative freedom, he can mold the mission in whatever way. If successful, he could be promoted: higher salary, better benefits, more privileges, stronger authority. Even better, it would spell the end of the War in a matter of days. He would be hailed as a hero of humanity, its champion.

With so many benefits awaiting the mission commander, Lucy felt Reeves was being **baited** by the Vice-Chair. Knowing him and his egotistic nature he would fall for it, hook, line, and sinker. Assault missions are _not_ given mere hours after discovery of a key enemy stronghold. Such decisions were largely inefficient, highly susceptible to the needless sacrifice of good soldiers. She questioned the idea of a mere fifteen people being sent to attack a base full of misanthropic creatures **without** any pre-battle intel, **and** at the mercy of the Colonel's creative freedom. Any formations and attack strategies will have to be formed on the spot_. He's disregarding protocol! No, our safety!_ Lucy barely caught the narrowing eyes behind the Vice-Chair's dark shades. It complemented what she thought to be a sly grin.

_Mitsuo Yamaki, just what's going on in your head?_

* * *

He couldn't believe it.

The familiar double doors came into view.

He just _couldn't_ believe it. Commandramon barged into the clinic, his heavy steps echoing in the corridors. Eyes scanned the room. The window was dark and black, the clock on the wall read 8.00 pm. He ignored the human lying on a far bed, laying his eyes on the one beside it: the second bed was rumpled, as if someone got off a few minutes ago.

Hearing the turn of a doorknob, he veered to the small, thin doorway on the middle of the other wall. It opened, revealing the blue dragon emerging rom within, face dripping with fresh water. Commandramon smiled, uttering jubilantly. "Lord Veemon!"

The dinosaur gave him a man-hug, relieved to see him safe and side. "Floramon told me about you!" was the first thing coming out of Veemon's mouth, having obviously compiled all the 'facts' during his private business. "I've been wanting to see you, Commandramon! How'd you get away from those humans? I really thought you died back there."

He gave the Chosen an exaggerated story, telling him of a thrilling escape that left his leg unusable for the night. Never mind the fact that he was released out of a sudden show of mercy on the red-hair's part. It was too humiliating; Commandramon thought he should preserve whatever was left of his dignity. He conveniently omitted the fact that he had spoken to Ken in the first place.

Veemon expressed much awe. _Child-like_, Commandramon observed. _As I always knew him._ The dragon had no questions about his tale: he was happy to see Commandramon was alive and well. It was only then that the dinosaur decided to pay attention to the human sleeping soundly by the corner. "I heard everything from Leomon," he said solemnly.

The Digimon of Miracles followed Commandramon to the human's side. His serene expression made it difficult to believe he really _was_ the one who murdered Monochromon. He gazed back at the Chosen, puzzled. "…Why did you bring him here?" It was the _only_ question he could think of.

"Christopher's my friend," replied Veemon without hesitation. "That's good enough."

"But, h-he…"

"He's human? He has the black sword?" Frustration lent color to the Chosen's face. "He killed Monochromon?"

Commandramon didn't want to look at Veemon in the eye. It was true, really. He was a human; protocol stressed the untrustworthiness of the Twelve's contemporaries. The black sword he carried was proof he slew Monochromon. _If he didn't kill him we could've held out on those three. _He despised the man. The dinosaur would've murdered him in that bed seconds ago if he could. Everyone in the base shared the sentiments, having had their fair share of betrayals and prejudice by humans in recent years. "Guilty."

Veemon brushed past him, staring worriedly at the unconscious human.

He struggled to even speak. "I-I-I, what… happened to you? After we split up?"

The blue dragon sat down on the human's bed, his tail resting on his sleeping form. "You remember that big explosion?"

"One of them said you escaped by riding a missile."

"Uh huh."

"But that's all I heard. Next thing I knew, they were saying you really _were_ dead. Killed by someone with a sword. I thought…" he averted his gaze, directing it at Christopher. "I thought _he_ did you in. Like Monochromon."

The Chosen patted the body. "Almost."

Commandramon jumped. "Almost!" But—"

"He sliced my gun in two." Veemon was counting with one hand. "He slammed me into the wall, and choked me 'til I passed out. I thought that was it, Commandramon. The end." He paused. "But look at me, I'm here." He chuckled. "Imagine how shocked I was when I woke up later in that cave!"

"Wait," stopped Commandramon, appalled. "You _went_ into the cave?" Veemon nodded. "But why? You knew he was there, Lord Veemon!"

"No choice," he answered. "I stay in the forest, and that Black man would've found me. Can't run far with a bullet in my leg, _remember_?" He pointed to a stitched hole on his right leg. It was healing considerably well; the pills have done their work. "Had to gamble, Commandramon. I know the Gotsumon said he was hostile, 'not human', and whatever, but I believed…"

"He could be your friend?" tried the dinosaur. It was the **only** philosophy Veemon held onto since humankind's relationship with digimon deteriorated. Clinging to it so desperately, he refused to let it go despite all signs proving otherwise. _"My partner Daisuke's a human like them,"_ he always argued.

Veemon verified. "Yup. First I was scared completely! He kept on asking about Monochromon, like he let me live so he can get info from me." He went on. "Then he tried to calm me down, make me relax. But I couldn't! I was so afraid he'd kill me after we talk, **especially** when he raised his hand...

"Just to pat my shoulder," he laughed. "I swear, Commandramon, I _really_ thought he'd finish me off right there. Then everything would be over. Nobody would even know we _lost _the Spire and about those, y'know, those weird digivices! But I didn't know you got away!

"Anyway, yeah. A pat on the shoulder. That's all."

.

Veemon gazed strongly at dinosaur. "Commandramon, have you _ever_ seen a human do something like that, to a digimon like me?"

Commandramon remained silent. He couldn't help but think. True, he had never seen a human treating a digimon so amiably. In this era, humans treated digimon like they were _aliens_ unworthy of friendship, as if they wanted them dead or stripped to subservience.

Joyful tears cascaded down Veemon's face. Commandramon heard him whisper Daisuke's name. He wiped them off, hoping the dinosaur didn't see. Sniffling, "Me being friends with Chris, gives me hope."

"Hope?"

"Yeah," he concurred. "For that happy future."

_Happy future, huh?_ It was that sappy vision of an egalitarian world: humans and digimon coexisting peacefully, with every person having their own digimon partners. Both Light and Shadow were in complete balance. A wonderful life, it was envisioned to come true 25 years after the Digital Revelation. _Until now you still believe…_

Commandramon rose. "Lord Veemon." _Time to be more serious._ "Who _exactly_ is Christopher?"

"I told you, didn't I?" he retorted. "A friend."

"No," interposed the dinosaur. "What **is** he? Don't you remember the fight he had with Leomon earlier?"

"I do. But I never expected Chris to be _that_ strong." He scratched his head. "I mean, I knew he wasn't normal since he killed Monochromon, but to fight Leomon one on one and beat him? Wow..."

Commandramon clutched the black piece of metal sitting on the bedside desk, perusing it. "So where do you think he gets his strength? How does this, this _thing_, turn into that sword?" He set it down. "Lord Veemon, how well do you know Christopher?"

He shook his head. "Not much."

"Yet you still call him a friend?" questioned the dinosaur. "You protect him like he's that precious Daisuke of yours! And he's not—"

Veemon was vexed. "Of course he's not my partner! He'll never replace Daisuke," he whined. "Nobody can take his place! And that won't change!"

"Then why?"

"Because we're friends," declared the dragon. "Isn't that enough?" He sighed. "I don't know Chris _that _well, Commandramon, but he'll open up, sooner or later..."

"Because you're friends?"

"Yes."

Commandramon smiled. "You never change." He shuffled to the double doors. "Well, I want to talk to him," he said, echoing Leomon's words. "Just tell me," he requested, pushing them open, "when he wakes up, Lord—"

Stopping mid-sentence, Commandramon stared at what awaited him outside the clinic: a green digimon hovering in the air, twice his height. He was intimidated by its muscular body and the resilient breastplate worn over it. It stared at him with its red, bug-eyes, wings flapping as it entered the clinic. Veemon was muted by this new arrival.

"L-Lo…" Commandramon, thunderstruck, could barely stutter. "L-Lo-Lord." He gulped. "Lord Stingmon! W-w-wh-why are, you h-he-here?"

"I heard everything," reproached the Digimon of Kindness. "You may have fooled my partner, but you cannot fool me."

Stingmon hovered to Veemon and Christopher's side, staring at the human's sleeping form. An awkward stillness overcame Commandramon and the blue dragon; they stood rooted to the spot. Veemon attempted to break the ice, but the aura Stingmon exuded was not one of warm friendship, but of cold authority, and it left him silenced.

"I've been asking around," spoke the green insect. "Plenty of unanswered questions in your fellow digimon's heads." He turned to the sleeping Christopher for a moment. "This man is an enigma. You may trust him, Veemon, but not knowing who he is makes me feel uneasy. We will have to hold him for questioning."

Veemon wanted to protest the idea, but the sheer authority Stingmon commanded was too stifling. After all, he was partnered to Ken Ichijouji the Tactician, formerly the despised Digimon Kaiser, currently the only hope against their unorthodox enemy. The blue dragon knew Stingmon as judgmental, intuitive, and kind, but ever since the War began he had been held down by self-determined protocol and tactical logic, having inherited the military ideology Ken retained from his former self.

Stingmon, rotating in midair, floated to the door, and turned towards the dinosaur. "We're going downstairs. When we get there, Commandramon, I want you to tell me: **why** did you lie to Ken?"

The Digimon of Miracles stared at Commandramon as if he had committed the greatest sin in the Digital World.

* * *

2100 hours.

Aldo's watch read 2100 hours. He led his two teammates through the Great Forest, following Commandramon's footsteps, which was constantly relayed to the digivice on his wrist. First, the forest was a marvel to behold, then an annoyance to finding the hidden base, no thanks to the thick fauna.

In his hands was the new weapon. The chassis was based on the XM8 Combat Rifle, its design sleek and smooth. Fitted with a scope, its 5.56mm magazine jutted almost 90° from the rifle grip, an inch away from the trigger. The scout gazed into the odd crystal pulsating on the small socket in the rifle's main body.

"You seem excited, sir," commented one of his partners.

"Of course!" grinned the sergeant. "Kazuki, in my hands is the DSI's **new weapon**. Once R&D starts mass producing this baby, everything will change _completely_!" He hugged the gun. "I'm so happy to just hold the prototype model. I can't _wait_ to use it!" Aldo eyed the same gun in Kazuki's hands, frowning. "I wonder why **you** don't share my excitement."

"Because, sir—"

"Call me Aldo," Aldo punctuated. "Ranks and words like 'sir' are all formalistic, hierarchical crap we don't need in the Modifiers.

"Unless you're a red-haired bighead," was added in a low voice.

"Because, Aldo," resumed Kazuki, "we're only holding the prototypes. R&D doesn't have a sustainable design for the rifle yet. We still have to correct the engineering flaw with digital modifications."

"And so?" Kikuchi glanced at his digivice. No instructions yet, which means they still had to trudge forward through the shrubbery. _Just how far did that dinosaur walk?_

"You **do** know both applying digital modifications and maintaining existing ones have a high toll on our batteries, right?"

He nodded. "Naturally. That's why I had over 40% power left yesterday."

"The intricate design of the extra component for this rifle is so complex it'll cost 7% to apply the modification. Imagine how much power it needs just to maintain it for a single minute!"

"I don't care!" cried Aldo. "I'm **itching** to try this out! Who knows how this weapon will work? Maybe it'll blast away several digimon in one hit! Or sap them of their free wills, make them permanently stupid, or something. I don't know!" He turned to the other soldier, who was prying some dirt out of his brown eyes. "Haseo, you're curious too, aren't you?"

Haseo yawned. "I guess it'd be nice to know. But I'd rather we finish this quick. I want my paycheck."

Aldo rolled his eyes. "So I have Mr. Practical and Mr. Moneybags on my team. This sucks," he complained to himself._ Reeves, WHY did you assign these two to me?_ The trio crossed a small stream; all three digivices vibrated. Aldo undid the catch, accessing the new instructions: head south.

"Haseo, Kazuki," he beckoned. "This way." Aldo awaited their first digimon encounter with glee.

_._

_._

_._

_Veemon has returned to the Satellite Base, though it was largely scandalous because of Christopher. The battle between Chris and Leomon, without a doubt, raised a number of questions concerning his identity and his background, questions that have to be answered as soon as possible. But as the man finds highly unethical the idea of involving the Digimon Adventure cast in his own problems, it is very obvious Chris would rather lie or not answer such questions in the first place._

_Veering away from him, we can see that Colonel Reeves has come up with a suitable battle plan and has proceeded to implement it, sending Aldo and two Modifiers with him into the future battlefield ahead of the rest. They possess new weaponry, and Sgt. Kikuchi is very eager to test it, though any idiot can figure out this weapon will be very destructive. However, Lucille's own thoughts on the assault mission and Yamaki's approval & subsequent encouragement suggest there is a lot more to this sudden development..._

* * *

Author's notes:

- The "Mitsuo Yamaki" here is the **SAME CHARACTER FROM DIGIMON TAMERS**. What makes him different from the canon is... well... it's more than just being in a completely different organization in the _Digimon Adventure_ universe, that's for sure. XD

- Hope to see you guys again in the next chapter.

Jun 2010 EDIT: Reposted the chapter because FF took out all the separators! GRRRRR


	4. Interrogation

**Author's notes:**

- This is the second half of the originally intended third Chapter, featuring the Interrogation. On MS Word, this ran to about 10 730 words. I have _no idea_ why this website says it has 12 thousand. Anyway, that puts the total word count of Chapter 3 itself to about 20 thousand. Damn that's a hell lot. Good thing I split it up ^^ For future reference, I will refer to Chapter 3A as chapter 3 and 3B as chapter 4 to eliminate confusion.

- Funny story: I flew to Texas a few days ago, and I forgot to put my story file into my laptop when I left for the airport! So I never got any progress done while I was in the most boring part of that 14-hour ride to the United States. Well, I don't think I would've gotten anything done either even if I DID have the file with me, since I kept falling asleep LOL. Thankfully, my girlfriend was available and kind enough to help me out with my little problem. :) I love her.

- What delayed me the most was the dialogue. It's very difficult keeping V-Mon and Stingmon in character, but I've performed this to the best of my ability and I hope you will all find it satisfactory. **Please** add a review if you have _any _criticisms or suggestions regarding the way I **portray the canon** (will be VERY helpful once I get to the 2nd story arc).

- Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Veemon, Commandramon, and Stingmon left the Clinic. There was a wooden door opposite the Clinic's double doors, with the word "Storage" painted on it. Turning right upon exit, the cobalt corridor reached a corner, heading right once more. The group of three followed the corridor, passing by four more rooms until the hallway split in two directions. To the left was a pair of double doors made of the silver Chrome Digizoid and a corner branching left. To the right was a short corridor leading to a large stairwell, lit by fluorescent lighting.

The group of digimon descended the open stairwell. Turning around after their descent, they were greeted by a friendly Elecmon resting on a bench underneath the stairs, polishing what looked like a rifle. They passed by a corridor to the right leading to an open doorway leading outside. They turned left a few steps after going by a small room filled with weapons and ammunition salvaged from human corpses.

The cobalt corridor now opened into a _long_ hallway about fifty feet long. A large window to the right revealed a rather peaceful base. The Child levels were either in the Barracks or were minding their own business. The Adults were mostly asleep, curdled up on their respective corners peacefully. The large window was interrupted by another large, open doorway. The left side of the hall had nothing but two sets of double doors, one near the group of three, the other on the far side, closer to the far corner.

As the three approached the closer doors, Veemon glanced at Commandramon and Stingmon. Commandramon was downcast, deep in thought on how he should reply to Stingmon's question. The latter, on the other hand, remained silent. His wings buzzed as he hovered with them. Rarely has Veemon seen Stingmon approach an issue from a military leader's perspective. In fact, he was surprised to see him act so… authoritative earlier. Having known Stingmon for a decade, Veemon thought him to be as kind-hearted as Ken and also as trusting as he himself was.

The Chosen opened the double doors for his two companions, entering the Mess Hall: a giant area made for Baby and Child digimon, as well as those Adults and Perfects small enough to fit. The Mess Hall was made in order to provide the smaller digimon with cooked meals prepared by Gotsumon trained by Digitamamon. Cooked meals in the Digital World, after all, were tastier and more nutritious than the raw fruits and food materials brought in by the Adults from the abundance found in the Great Forest.

There were tables and benches all around, as well as pillars supporting the second floor. On both the near and far sides of the two walls were areas reserved for cooking and serving. On the other side of the Mess Hall was another pair of double doors, leading out to the back of the Satellite Base.

Out of the few digimon eating or just sitting on the few tables in the Mess Hall, Veemon spotted Leomon on a rather long one close to the back, with a finished plate beside him. The lion had seen his group as well, rising, offering his hand to the insect with him. "Lord Stingmon," he greeted. "What brings you here?" Veemon watched his eyes shift slightly towards Commandramon. "Is the Tactician with you? How's he doing? Is he well?"

"He's in the main base," replied the green insect. "Ken's doing fine, thanks for asking." He settled down and took his seat, with Commandramon detaching himself to grab a plate of food. Veemon did the same, following the military dinosaur. Famished and a bit groggy from his long rest, he thought of getting a plate of spaghetti for himself. He considered getting an extra just for Christopher, figuring he'd be just as hungry as Veemon when he awakes. As he left the insect and lion behind, his blue ears picked up Stingmon's voice, "I just found out we _lost_ the battle on the Spire of Courage. I've done some asking around already, and your fellow monsters told me **you** knew about Commandramon's lies…"

Preferring not to hear Leomon's reasons for keeping his mouth shut, Veemon sauntered away, grabbing two plates while trying to mentally unscramble the puzzling situation. What was this issue about? What's this about Commandramon lying to Ken and Stingmon? Was it about the Battle at the Spire? Did Chris have something to do with it? The Modifiers? Or was his own rumored death a reason in itself?

He gave Commandramon a light tap on the back. "Stingmon's a nice guy deep down," Veemon reassured. "I'm sure he'll forgive you. I mean, he's the Digimon of Kindness!" He chuckled.

The dinosaur gaped at him. "Lord Veemon, you have _obviously_ never seen Lord Stingmon doing his job."

"What—?"

"You're a Chosen like him. So you'll never see Lord Stingmon go 'military' on you." It dawned on the blue dragon that he was about to see an entirely new side of his old friend.

* * *

At the entrance to the base's hidden path, the six Woodmon guards took a break, converging within the overgrowth, discussing the hottest topic of the time: Leomon's battle with the human.

"…then he throws his sword in the air," recounted one of them. "Backflips from the ground, kicks himself off the wall, grabs the sword, lands behind Leomon, and stabs the hilt of the sword into him! He _flew_ straight into the wall!"

"I've never heard of a human fighting like that," said another. "They normally run away firing their guns cursing."

"I should've been there!" grumbled the first. "Floramon even told me he blocked the Beast Sword twice!" He paused. "Aren't any of you shocked by this? You **know** how strong Leomon is, right?"

The third Woodmon sighed. "I'm glad we didn't fight him."

"He's a **jerk**," Woodmon Four snorted. "He's only using Lord Veemon for his own ends. You all remember what he did." And how could they forget? The man called Christopher threatened to take the Chosen's life if he wasn't permitted to enter the base, acting as if Veemon meant nothing to him.

"Actually…" Woodmon One was unconvinced. "I think he was trying to freak us out."

"Really?" the tone was highly skeptical.

"Well, Lord Veemon stopped him before he could do anything else to Leomon. But Leomon fought back after he lowered his sword with a fireball. The human would've dodged, but those injuries he had caught up with him."

"So he's just a pile of ashes now?" smirked Woodmon Four. "Good riddance, I say."

"I wasn't finished. Lord Veemon tried to help him, but when everyone thought he was going to die with the human, the human just… stood up, and defended him from the fireball. I heard he even scolded the Chosen!"

"So he's dead."

"That's the scary part… he was _barely singed_ by the attack."

The rest nodded. "I wonder what _is _he," pitched Woodmon Five. "He'd be an Adult or Perfect if he was a digimon. A mere human having that much power is just… impossible."

"Who knows?" the First shrugged. "But Lord Veemon doesn't have a problem with that. Trusts him just the same." He turned to the Fourth. "At least we know he was fooling us earlier."

"I'd feel much better if I knew who—or what—he really was," rejoined the Fourth. "We know everything about the Twelve after—" He tensed. "D'you guys hear that?"

The six Woodmon rose, attuning their hidden ears, listening for echoes. Woodmon Six, the nearest to the stream, shushed the others. "Footsteps from northwest. Medium. Fleet-footed." Blue eyes were shifting. "Likely to be human. About three."

* * *

"Kazuki! Any updates yet?" Aldo grumbled. "We've been walking for the past forty-five minutes!" He checked his digivice: nothing.

"No, sir," replied the man. "But maybe you can try being more _patient_."

Kikuchi rolled his eyes. They haven't seen even a Baby digimon in this entire hike. His trigger fingers were _longing_ to use the new weapon. The module had already been modified into the rifle, adding a second trigger. The modification had cost 7%. Strangely, upkeep required low amounts of energy. Where was the extra energy coming from? He gazed again at the yellow crystal within.

Then the digivices beeped, vibrating strongly. The trio stopped, accessing the new instructions. "Head east", instructed the digivice. Aldo stared at the overgrowth. "We're going in **there**?" He glanced at Haseo. "You'd think Commandramon would've had an _easier_ path into the Base, too, would you?" Shaking his head, "Let's refresh these damn—"

"Sir," answered Kazuki, "it's pointless. Both of us have the same information."

"…Goddammit," cursed the Sergeant, plodding to the overgrowth. "Fine, fine, let's head this way then…"

.

Suddenly, a thick tree slightly taller than a man waded through the fauna, its blue eyes surging with anger. "You're not going anywhere!" The willow raised its hardwood fist. "WOODY SMASH!"

Aldo dove out of the way; the tree's fist bore a small hole in the ground. The sergeant raised his hand, stopping Kazuki and Haseo from acting. "Hold your positions! Woodmon's my prey!"

"_Your _prey?" scoffed a voice. Five Woodmon appeared, surrounding Aldo, with two keeping a close watch on his two companions. "We outnumber you two to one, human."

Aldo grinned. _At last!_ "You two stay put and wait for my orders," he commanded, prepping his middle finger on the second trigger. "I'll delete these fools myself." Aldo snapped the rifle, training it on the first Woodmon. "BEGINNING WITH YOU!"

* * *

"So it's all about protecting Ken?" Stingmon asked. "You think **withholding** the information would protect him?"

"That's what Commandramon insinuated," rebutted the lion. "If Lord Veemon died defending an area we lost anyway, Lord Stingmon, the Tactician would've been in serious emotional trauma."

Stingmon nodded.

"The Tactician's human," continued Leomon. "He's smart, but he'll always be vulnerable to some weakness like all other humans. If he breaks down, he'll be unfit for leading the digimon."

"And you believe all humans are weak?"

"Every monster but you Chosen think so, Lord Stingmon."

"Hmph," Stingmon grunted, just as Veemon and Commandramon took their seats: Veemon beside him, and Commandramon beside Leomon. He shifted his attention to Commandramon. "Last night, during our meeting, I noticed your suspicious disposition. You seemed shaky and in doubt. As proof, your report had plenty of holes when I examined the transcript. That, and you looked like you were ready to break down before I signed off."

He could hear the military dinosaur gulp. "D-does, does the Tactician…?"

"No," replied Stingmon. "I don't think Ken would like knowing his **trusted officers** lied to him straight to his face."

Commandramon seemed relieved after that, but the Digimon of Kindness was not about to let such an infraction get away unpunished, or at the very least, unexamined. "As Ken's partner _and_ your leader, tell me, Commandramon: **why **did you lie?"

The dinosaur remained silent. Veemon turned to Stingmon, then Commandramon and back, doing nothing but slurp his spaghetti and observe.

"B-because," he stammered, "I lost hope for this war when I t-thought Lord Veemon was dead. Without him, we would never see any more miracles in this War." He gazed at Stingmon with his orange eyes. "You and Lord Veemon played crucial roles against Kimeramon, BelialVamdemon, and Armageddemon. Without one or the other…

"And then Lord Veemon is the digimon partner of your partner's best friend," he went on seconds later. "I, believed Ke—the Tactician, would be heavily—"

"Enough," stopped Stingmon. "I commend you for your courage." His tone became more solemn, serious. "So what **really** happened yesterday? Tell me everything."

.

Commandramon narrated everything, from the beginning of the battle, the initial defense they had set up based on the preplanned tactics. He went on to describe Veemon's battle with the two humans after Golemon's deletion, how he refused to kill them even after slashing his belly open. Commandramon told his three companions of his experience fighting the Colonel, and how he escaped after overhearing them talk about the dragon's deletion, which he believed at once. He also told them about the reports they heard about the "man with the black sword", who turned out to be the same person sleeping in the Clinic on the second floor.

Stingmon was satisfied with the story. Commandramon barely escaped with his life, bearing dreadful news he thought true, and somehow made it to the Great Forest, exhausted and wounded, but alive nonetheless. The man called Christopher figured as a backdrop in his story: the reports of the Gotsumon and the Modifiers would easily lead anyone to misconstrue Chris murdering Veemon. In fact, the human could've done that, but he didn't. Though a miraculous stroke of luck for the Digimon in the short-term, the ambiguous identity and intentions of the man made Stingmon anxious.

The Digimon of Kindness turned to Veemon for answers. "What happened to **you** after you and Commandramon split up?"

* * *

Commandramon opted to omit his capture and apparent "mercy" of the man called Colonel Reeves. Knowing Stingmon, the Chosen would've had him investigated. If anything else happened, the blame would be placed squarely on him. The dinosaur had already redeemed himself in Stingmon's eyes. No need to add more shame by saying he had been released by the enemy.

The Chosen turned on Veemon, demanding for what had happened to him after they split up. He recounted once more his narrow escape from the female Modifier, and his subsequent wandering to the cave after the explosion. He reported the unnatural strength and response time of the human called Christopher, and his near-death via strangulation. As the digimon continued his story, Commandramon noticed a significant hole: Veemon did not mention anything about evading the Black Modifier known as Aldo sent after him.

"Lord Veemon," interrupted Commandramon. "I remember, a Black man being sent after you by their leader. If you were with Christopher, how _exactly_ did you two elude him?"

"Weeeeeeellllll…"

"When did you leave the cave?"

"…At night…"

He blinked. Wasn't Aldo in the cave during twilight? If they never left the cave…

"But that soldier was in the cave that afternoon!" blurted the dinosaur.

"Chris _knew_ he was coming way before I heard his footsteps!"

"Wait. **How** did that happen?"

The dragon seemed to find the question uncomfortable. He struggled with his response, straining under the pressure of Stingmon and Commandramon. Already he was feeling the same feeling Commandramon always felt when under the watchful eyes of the insect.

"That reminds me." Leomon broke the silence. "Maybe Lord Veemon knows something about Chris already."

"Huh?" mumbled the dinosaur.

"You called his sword a 'die' right before we fought." He glanced at the dragon suspiciously. "There's something you're not telling us, Lord Veemon. What **do** you know about Christopher?"

* * *

"This weapon is PURE **AWESOME**!"

The moment the Black man pulled the second trigger, yellow-green balls of light shot out of the whining gun. The projectiles were so fast, Woodmon Six never saw them coming. The living tree was vaporized instantly. Even the dissipating particles were erased completely. In short: permanent, absolute deletion.

Enraged, the remaining five attacked. But the soldier brought out a small device in his right hand. "D-Modify!" he said, suddenly becoming more agile as blue lines snaked around his legs. Evasion became second nature, deflecting, parrying, and outright dodging any attack the Woodmon made.

"Yeehaw!" he cheered, firing more balls of energy at Woodmon Three. It was his second kill.

Woodmon Four found it hard to believe _Commandramon_ was responsible for this breach. The only way for him to be involved in all this was a tracking device. _No_, he shook his head. It was definitely the man with Veemon. He was to blame for all this. But either way, the trio was most probably a forward team. His allies, packing more firepower, are sure to come in sooner or later. Everyone must be notified ASAP! Finger-pointing could come later. Just then, Woodmon One screeched in agony as he died.

The tree turned 180° and dashed into the overgrowth, abandoning his brethren. _I must warn everyone!_

"AFTER HIM!" he heard him cry. "Don't let him escape!"

* * *

Veemon was in a bind. It was a mistake to have said Chris knew about the Black man's approach before he himself heard his footsteps. Unfortunately, his mouth was quicker than his head and it came out before he could hold his tongue. With the cloud of uncertainty hovering over Christopher, doubtlessly Leomon and Commandramon would not hesitate to press for any information on him, even if only to assuage their distrust. Stingmon was wary, remaining silent.

He didn't like the way his new friend was being treated, even in this conversation. It was unjust for them to approach the issue with prejudice. It all began with his humanity. Veemon was very certain it will continue with his ambiguity, driven by the need to know more.

Suddenly Stingmon broke the still air. "Veemon," he demanded sternly with authority. "Tell us what you know about Christopher; it'll clarify some of the questions we've reserved in our heads." This was _not_ the Stingmon he knew.

The blue dragon opened his mouth to speak, but instead opted to shove the contents of his plate into his mouth. Chewing slowly, he realized he was better off not answering. He knew a bit about the DITE, as well as the mysterious device called the Realm Scanner. But it definitely won't be enough to satiate their follow-up questions and will aggravate the whole matter. Furthermore, he knew nothing else on Christopher, save his obsession with survival and self-preservation. All attempts he made to wave away the shadow of ambiguity were met with stubborn resistance and silence. Given all that, if the situation was indeed military, then a rough and violent interrogation was sure to come soon. Veemon didn't like the idea at all.

"Veemon!" ordered Stingmon. "Answer me!"

He gulped. "Sorry Stingmon, I don't know much about him either. But from what I saw, he's extremely paranoid. Maybe that's why he tried to kill me yesterday." Veemon rose, grabbing the other, cold plate of spaghetti.

"And where are you going?"

"Upstairs," answered the dragon, stepping away from the table. "I want to check on Chris."

"We're not yet done, Veemon," stated the insect.

"I don't know anything, okay?" cried the digimon. "Go talk to him when he wakes up! That's what you'll do anyway!" Grunting, he walked away, heading for the double doors.

* * *

Woodmon Four made it past the overgrowth, seeing the hidden path unwind before him. He broke into a sprint, running along the path. He was exhausted, but he had to keep on going. If the humans knew about the overgrowth, they were certain to find the path. Bullets rained from above, boring holes into the fresh soil. Woodmon Four leapt, grabbing the branches of smaller trees, swinging on them like Tarzan as he deftly avoided the bullets coming at him silently. Already he could imagine the enemy's plan.

"Ugh!" a strong kick from above. Woodmon Four landed on the path, rolling out of harm's way. A ball of light disintegrated a portion of the ground, as he saw one of the humans come at him with a knife. One swipe, and he knew it was sharp enough to cut through wood. "WOODY SMASH!" he cried, attempting to pound the man's head.

The soldier ducked, slicing off Woodmon Four's arm, before kicking him away. As he fell, he pushed himself from his position, barely dodging the ball of yellow-green light meant for his head. In horror, he saw his leg disappear in thin air.

His cerulean eyes stared at the soldier called Kazuki, fixing his brown hair with a scarred hand. Aimed at Woodmon Four was a gun similar to the Black's. He crawled backwards desperately, only to be blocked by the other soldier.

His screams were silenced by death.

_

* * *

"I must alter my fate."_

The familiar images appeared in Christopher's mind. He perceived the black tunnel before him, wrapped in colorful light. The priestess stood before him, silver mace shivering in her grasp. The woman in green hovered opposite her, a tangible lime glow ominously caressing her hands. Then he saw himself. A dream.

"Leave me and escape!" ordered the priestess, trying to conceal her fearful voice. "Please," she begged. "Everyone else would've died in vain."

"No, Sally."

"You cannot fall here, Christopher."

"Please don't talk like that!"

"Not when you're so far!"

"But I can't go on without you," Chris pleaded, his eyes watery.

He heard the woman in green laugh. Her voice, subtle yet awash in strength, terrified him. "Are you done with your little drama?"

"You," raged Christopher, no longer bothering to hide the seethe in his voice. He reached for his staff. "I'll—!"

"STOP!" admonished Sally. "Chris, you know what'll happen!"

"Tch!"

The air between them shimmered for a second. In an instant, the woman in green appeared before Christopher, her face so close to his he could feel her breathe. "Exactly why I will **enjoy** killing this woman before your eyes."

"DAMN YOU!" he bridled, grabbing the DITE and his gun. "Restoration!"

The scene changed, and Christopher found himself ensnared by the woman in green, her slender hand gripping his leg tightly. "You depend too much on the æther!" Her right hand swathed in a white light trickling with black electricity, she brought it to his chest. Immense pain took over him. Chris's body convulsed in the woman's grasp as he screamed. "The end, 'Christopher Van Numen'," she declared. "Accept defeat."

_._

_Someone… please, help me…_

.

Suddenly, Sally was between them, her own body convulsing rapidly. Blood was beginning to seep out of her mouth. The woman in green was behind her, cursing in God's name. Ignoring her, Christopher watched Sally's mouth move for the last time, as she disappeared in a flash of red and lime.

* * *

Veemon had set the plate of spaghetti beside the sleeping Christopher. He looked at the body. _Should've just omitted that part of the story. Now they'll press him even more. _Leaving the three digimon downstairs with more unanswered questions wasn't his intention at all, but it couldn't be helped: Commandramon had seen the flaw in his story.

He stepped outside the Clinic, heading back. The Chosen hadn't even passed the corner going right when he heard Christopher suddenly scream. Though muffled, his shrill voice startled Veemon, compelling him to return. He knew the other three had heard it, and if there was anything he could do for his new friend, it was to get him ready for the interrogation ahead.

Veemon was ready to kick the double doors open, stopping at the last second when he heard whispers on the other side. The blue dragon, curiosity taking over, pushed the door open slightly, peeking in. He caught the human slamming his own fists on the bed, tears cascading down his face. Veemon could hear him murmur the name "Sally" repeatedly as he continued to take out his frustrations on the bed, releasing all his emotions uncurbed.

"Whhhyyyy!" he cursed. "Why must I be **so effing weak**?"

"Dammit… couldn't even save myself…"

"Sallyyyyyyyy," Christopher whined, sobbing. "I need... I need you!" He buried his face on the bed, clutching his medallion tightly. "God, I can't go on…"

"…not alone…"

"Aaaagghh!"

* * *

Stingmon glanced at the other two digimon with him. Leomon was furious at the way Veemon disrespectfully left the table. The lion was shaking his head in disappointment. "Why is a digimon like **him** a Chosen? He's so…"

"Immature?" offered Commandramon. The lion gave him an approving nod.

"Don't worry about it," shrugged Stingmon.

"Lord Stingmon!" protested Leomon. "Chosen or not, Lord Veemon definitely has info on Christopher and he—"

Stingmon raised his hand. "You misunderstand him, Leomon. If Veemon _does_ know something, maybe he's afraid it's not enough for us, and it'll just worsen Christopher's position altogether.

"I've been with him and his partner for so long," explained the Chosen, chuckling. "I'm very sure he's acting like Daisuke when Ken was still trying to reach out to the Twelve."

"I don't get it," muttered Leomon.

"You weren't there."

An abrupt scream interrupted the conversation, coming from upstairs. The few digimon in the Mess Hall glanced up, but later on resumed their business. The three monsters stared at each other.

"He's awake," said Commandramon.

Leomon rose. "We should go."

"Sit down," Stingmon spoke. "Let's give Veemon ten minutes. If he doesn't return and tells us to go up, I'll consider him a liability."

* * *

Haseo and Kazuki emerged from the overgrowth. Aldo was sitting on a tree root nearby, waiting for them. Satisfied with his tests, he had dispelled the digital modification made on his rifle. "About time!" he uttered. "Did you get him?"

"Yes, sir," replied Haseo.

"We wouldn't have to go through all that trouble if you weren't so _eager _to test the new weapon," commented Kazuki.

"Who the hell cares?" disregarded Aldo. "At least we know what the new weapon does now." He stood, patting the dirt off his uniform. "You saw what it did right? It's noisy, but those balls disintegrated everything it touched as if it was **nothing**."

"Mmm, it really _is_ an impressive weapon," Kazuki remarked, blushing. "Sir."

"Haha!" Kikuchi laughed. "I **knew** it! You're just like me deep down, brother!"

He cleared his throat after kicking away a huge chunk of a redwood tree. "All right, men. Let's move out. I've already placed the sign for Reeves and the others."

* * *

Veemon stared at the bent figure with sympathy. It was the second time Christopher had broken down because of this "Sally". He wanted to help his new friend, but he just wouldn't tell him anything about his past. The Chosen couldn't understand why he preferred to keep things to himself, and that worried him. Chris was acting like he just lost someone very dear to him. Veemon could relate, actually.

_You've got a friend right here, Christopher, _mused the blue dragon. _Why do you say you're alone? _Whenever he was missing Daisuke, he was never alone. Stingmon and Ken were always there for him. A shame the other digimon never fully understood the bond between human and monster.

The door suddenly gave in to his weight, creaking. Christopher caught him peeking. "Vee?"

"You're awake," He entered slowly. Inching closer, "How you feeling?"

"…Never better," coughed Chris. He noted the glass of water and plate of spaghetti beside him. He ate heartily. "Where'd you come from?"

"Downstairs with friends," was Veemon's sheepish reply. He ambled forward to Chris's bed, when the man noticed the difference in stride.

"Your leg's okay now?"

He nodded, fixing the ruffled bed beside Christopher's. "Mmhm. Thanks to Lalamon and Joe's pills."

"Lalamon? Joe?" Chris slurped up the spaghetti. "Who're they?"

"Lalamon's the digimon in charge of the Clinic," he answered. "Joe, well, he's not in the satellite base, but he's a human just like you."

"Don't the other mons—?"

"He's a Chosen Child."

"Oh." The conversation seemed awkward. Christopher didn't feel like talking at all, his responses apparently forced. Veemon realized then that any interrogation was destined for Chris's emotional turmoil. He continued fixing the bed, and when he finished, went on to examine everything else in the room, checking to see if all was in order.

Veemon stole a few glances at Chris from time to time, hoping he'd open up to his new but loyal friend. But the human ravenously devoured the food on his plate, ignoring the dragon's presence. Saddened, his ears drooped.

* * *

The food was cold, but admittedly one of the best spaghetti he ever had in the longest time. It brought Chris out of the cold despair consuming him. A small doorway stood to his left. Ajar, the little light entering marked a toilet's silhouette. He watched Veemon enter the little room, flushing as he turned on the faucet. A clock on the wall read 10.00 p.m.

An operating table was located on the far side of the clinic, opposite the double doors. Hearing the bathroom door lock, Chris slowly rose, plodding to the table. No longer tired, he reckoned his healing had something to do with the rest and medicine he was given. He checked his abdomen: the wound was covered by a large, ugly scab._ That'll leave a mark. _

Two objects left on the nearby trays caught his eye. They were bullets, both purple, caked in blood. One of them appeared to have been taken out sometime ago. _Give or take a day_. They were long, about three inches. _Looks armor-piercing_. Examining them further, Chris found something peculiar. A thick ring of black circled both, but only one emitted a faint red light frequently—every half-minute, he estimated. The older bullet.

Setting down the shell, he sauntered to his bed. Veemon was out of the bathroom, busy fixing it up. "Thanks," he whispered, pocketing the DITE. The blue dragon perked up, simpering for a single moment. Chris was about to wear his coat when the double doors burst open and three monsters walked in: Leomon, a blue dinosaur-like creature garbed in military battle dress, and a tall insectoid, muscular and intimidating with his hunter green armor.

"Leomon, Commandramon," Veemon muttered, saying it in such a way only Chris could've heard it. "Stingmon." His voice conveyed suspicion and wariness.

.

"And so he's _finally_ awake," observed Leomon.

Commandramon was more elated. "I've been waiting for this."

"We all have," agreed Stingmon, flying towards him.

Stingmon, towering over Veemon, accosted him, placing a hand on his back. It was encased in a black gauntlet. The two whispered privately. Chris ogled them, watching the blue dragon cringe. Shifting his gaze to the other two monsters, he saw both Leomon and Commandramon ignoring them, instead training their eyes solely on Christopher.

"Who, are you?" he asked, wondering who these three monsters were.

Commandramon replied gruffly, "Right back at you."

Gradually approaching, Stingmon landed in front of Chris, staring at him, surveying. Breaking his silence, "Christopher," he commanded, his voice replete with authority, "The three of us want to talk to you. In _private_."

"Stingmon!" Veemon blurted, startling Christopher with his sudden reaction. "In _private_? I told you earlier, just talk to him!"

"Exactly what we're doing," replied Stingmon. "Is there a problem, Veemon?"

He snarled. "You're really bringing him to the room, aren't you?" "_The room"? _Veemon was livid. "You don't have to do that!

.

"…Can't you just trust Chris?"

"Trust him?" laughed Leomon. "Lord Veemon, **you **won't even tell us what you know about him!"

"But—"

Commandramon ogled him. "You never gave"—pointing to Chris—"this human's background some thought, and you still call him a friend!"

"Hmph," Veemon grumbled. "The way **both **of you are ganging up on Christopher pisses me off! And all because you want to know _everything_ about him first? You should learn to trust someone by their actions!" He turned to Stingmon. "Stingmon, you're a Chosen too. Back me up here!"

Stingmon kept quiet, his apathy unrelenting. Chris could no longer watch, eyes drifting away to a random corner. _I'm sorry, Vee. I, shouldn't have gone here._

"Lord Veemon," voiced Commandramon. "Why should we trust Chris in the first place? By his actions, you said? For all we know it could be a deliberate act of deception."

Veemon, still dismayed at Stingmon's silence, rebuked the dinosaur. "There's _no way_ he'll do that!" he defended. "I know he won't!"

"But he's not your partner," countered Leomon.

"He's still my friend!" He yelled. "Don't bring him to the room! Chris isn't even a prisoner here," he defended. "Anyway, he just woke up a few minutes ago. I… don't think he's ready to talk right now." Veemon tugged at Christopher's arm, not noticing Stingmon accost Leomon behind his back. He peered down. "Christopher," Veemon murmured, "Don't feel bad about this, alright?" The dragon was staring at him with concerned eyes. "Don't. I'm with you here. You're not—"

Veemon fell, his head struck with the flat side of Leomon's blade. Commandramon was startled, though easily regained his composure. Stingmon appeared unmoved. Christopher, in contrast, was appalled, moving over to the dragon's side. He was down, unresponsive to any stimuli.

"What the _hell_!" he snapped. "Veemon's your comrade, your **friend**! Why did you—?"

"He's too noisy," responded the lion. He sheathed his sword, nonchalant.

Commandramon noted, "And he's delayed us long enough."

"He's become a liability." Stingmon took Veemon and placed him on what was Christopher's bed. He heard him apologize. "So sorry, Veemon. But don't worry, this won't go overboard."

All three surrounded Chris. Their cold stares alarmed him. "Let's go."

Goldenrod eyes darted to the unconscious digimon. "As if I had a choice."

* * *

The Modifier trio found the satellite base easily, though the concrete walls and the sentries walking on top gave Aldo the impression it was heavily guarded. Certainly there were monsters camouflaged somewhere nearby, beyond the walls. If there weren't, either the Digimon were stupid or they were confident the base wouldn't be found.

"Keep your silencers on," commanded the scout, leading Haseo and Kazuki to the right, evading the gaze of the two Floramon. "Activate stealth mode." He undid the catch. "D-Modify."

Aldo found a pair of yellow caterpillars standing still on the side of the tree trunk, streaks of black lightning running across their bodies. Before they could sense the three soldiers, they were immediately assailed with bullets. "Haseo, Kazuki, clear the area," he ordered. "We'll need to secure the location for the main assault."

"Sir, what about you?" Haseo asked.

"I'll scout the base," he replied. "You know, identify targets, look for an entry point, stuff like that. I'll be relaying the information to Reeves through the digivice."

"Got it."

"Now start working!" Aldo glanced at his watch; it read 10.40 pm. "They'll be here in half an hour." He undid the catch. "D-Modify!" He jumped to the trees above, preferring to work alone, leaving his two teammates to their duties.

* * *

"The room" was small, enough to fit a small chair, a small table, and three digimon inside. It was somewhat cramped when the three monsters brought Chris in. He was tied to the chair, with what looked like spider-silk threads. Before that, however, he disarmed himself as instructed, placing his DITE, his gun, and his staff on the table. Christopher entertained this interrogation, not out of conceited spite, but out of the desire to acquire the trust of Veemon's friends. After all, he could escape whenever he wanted to, even when he was strapped to the chair.

The interrogation began with questions meant to profile him. "What is your name?" began Leomon.

"Christopher," Chris replied. "Christopher Van Numen."

"Age?"

"23 years."

"And where are you from?"

"None of your business," was his initial, usual response. Commandramon was the first to strike, smacking Chris with the side of his gun. It didn't hurt much, though.

"None of your business," he repeated again.

Commandramon struck again, making sure he got hit in the face. It didn't hurt; but it was rather _annoying_. "Singapore," Chris answered. It was a fact, yet also a lie.

"Lord Stingmon," spoke Leomon, nodding at the insect. "It's time."

"Go for it," approved the Chosen.

"How did you arrive in the Digital World?"

"Through a portal."

"No," Leomon answered. "We want to know the **medium** you used to enter here."

"Medium?"

"Did you use a digiport? Or was it the DDS?"

"How am I supposed to know?" blurted Chris. "I don't have a digivice, and I don't know what the hell a DDS's supposed to be."

"Answer the question!" cried the dinosaur, smacking him in the face. It was starting to annoy Chris. But he calmed himself: the last thing he wanted to do was undermine his very intentions of _earning_ their trust. The first thing that has to be done, of course, is to give that trust in the first place.

After repeated smacks on the face, Stingmon intervened, perhaps unnerved by the lack of progress. "Does the Digital Dive System ring any bells for you?"

He shook his head. "Honestly, no."

"Then how did you enter the Digital World in the first place?"

"I told you. A portal."

"Don't you know anything?" spat Commandramon. "The only methods of entering the Digital World are through Digiports or the DDS system! If you don't have a digivice, then you must've come here through the DDS!"

Commandramon was about to smack him again when Stingmon stopped him. "Wait." He leaned towards Chris. "Christopher, do you know what the DSI stands for?"

"Hell no," replied Chris. "I didn't even know what Digimon were until Veemon told me! And that was _after_ I met him."

"You lie," stated Commandramon.

"I'm not. You can confirm that with Veemon later."

"Answer the question," Leomon nagged. "What does the DSI stand for?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybeeeeee Days Sales in Inventory? I remember googling that up… a long, long, long time ago…"

Chris heard Stingmon sigh. "Let's move on," he murmured. "We've been going at this DDS and DSI question for a while now." The insect's shadow was completely dark under the tungsten lighting.

"Based from reports," began Stingmon, "you killed an Adult digimon, fought against Leomon on equal terms, and displayed levels of strength and agility not found in common humans. The only logical explanation there is, you've got something on you that strengthens your body."

Commandramon brought his snout close. "Yes," he hissed. "Just _where_ do you get your power?"

"Pffft," Chris nonchalantly hissed. "It's my own."

The dinosaur laughed. "That's impossible! You _definitely_ have some sort of device on you. I know it!"

"Whatever," he answered casually. _At least he's not hitting me anymore. _"Everything you see on that table's all I have."

Leomon plodded to the table, examining the three items: the gun, the piece of metal, and the staff. Of all the weapons, the staff was extremely heavy in spite of its deceptively light appearance, so heavy Leomon himself couldn't lift it off the table. Meanwhile, Commandramon eyed the gun warily, clutching it in his hands, looking at the two triggers on the handgun. He aimed it at the wall, pulling both at once. Nothing happened.

"Sorry, but the gun only works for _me."_

Next up was the thing that turns into a sword. "How do you turn this into a sword?" queried Leomon.

Commandramon balked. "**That** puny thing's the black sword?"

The lion nodded. "Lord Veemon called it a die."

"It's called a DITE," their prisoner corrected, pronouncing it right. "And it runs on a neural-based computer."

"Neural?"

Stingmon offered the explanation. "He controls it with only his thoughts."

The dinosaur blinked. "This is _too_ advanced, Lord Stingmon," he murmured. "Even for the DSI."

"Where did you get this?" asked Stingmon, curious.

"Someone gave it to me," he responded. "Layfon Wolfstein Alseif," Chris preempted. "But you won't be finding him. Never."

"We'll find this Layfon, whoever he is. You'll see."

Christopher chuckled mockingly. "You **won't**. As far as all of you are concerned, Layfon Alseif does _not_ exist."

"But he gave you this DITE!" countered Leomon.

"The DITE's not supposed to exist either." He was smirking. "Not here, at least."

Commandramon, irked, pummeled Christopher with the butt of his rifle. "Stop trying to confuse us, you!"

"I'm not doing anything," insisted the human. "Not my fault you're too **stupid** to understand my answers."

Growling, the dinosaur raised his hand. "Why you…! STRIKE—!"

"No," stopped Stingmon, remaining true to his words. "This is getting out of hand."

"You're getting soft," sneered Commandramon. "Don't tell me Lord Veemon got to you. There is no place for such sentiments in situations like this."

Stingmon ignored the snide comment, instead walking to the bound Christopher, inspecting the area where his arm was. _What is he…?_

"If you possess neural technology equipped with biometrics," he spoke, looking at the DITE momentarily, "maybe this gauntlet on your arm's a device too? One that only works for you."

_No way I'm telling you about the Scanner!_ "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he responded. He nudged his left arm. "It's just fancy armor with a blue gem. Nothing wrong with that."

The green insect stared straight into his eyes. "I think you're **lying**."

Rather than responding with nonchalance or sarcasm, Christopher directed a strong glare at the insect. The Realm Scanner was crucial to his own goals; letting the digimon confiscate it even for a few days was completely unacceptable.

Stingmon seemed to have detected the change in Chris's attitude. "Looks like we're going somewhere," voiced the insect, pleased.

"I…!"

"What is this thing supposed to be?" demanded Stingmon. "What does it do? I _know_ it's a machine. Don't bother hiding it."

* * *

"Kazuki, any updates on your end?" Aldo squished the foot-long Kunemon sitting on the branch he stepped on. At a higher altitude, the view on the base was rather spectacular, especially when there were few tree trunks obscuring the sight. His binoculars' nanocomputer recorded everything he saw. Tinkering with the buttons on the machine, he sent the video feed to Colonel Reeves' digivice.

"Plenty of Kunemon, sir," replied the soldier. "Nothing else. We're heading over to the back."

"Roger that."

As he spied the southern side of the base, he saw what looked like _cracks_ on the concrete wall near the only concrete building in the compound. Zooming in, he found a small hole on the side, about five feet above ground level. It seemed large enough to fit a grown man. _Looks like we have a possible entry point._

Panning the view, Aldo discovered the area was relatively unlit, and was quite close to the side entrance of the two-story building nearby. The entire compound was being guarded sparsely. The digimon, mostly Child level, were playing in their little area near the front of the base. The more dangerous ones, Adults, did the internal patrolling, some in groups. The sergeant identified Tyranomon, Grizzmon, Snimon, Kentarumon, and Flymon as potential dangers.

There were about sixty digimon in the compound alone. Kikuchi was confident of their permanent deletions once the assault began. Not only were they Modifiers, but also in their possession was the new weapon. Victory was on their side now.

* * *

It took fifteen minutes to get Christopher talking about the device on his forearm. "It's a scanner," he said. "It can do… all sorts of things for me."

Stingmon liked the progress they were making. At first, Chris gave confusing answers, appearing calm all throughout. He was also sarcastic at times. Everything changed when he asked about the device. Christopher became less responsive, but luckily, Commandramon was there to rough him up. Leomon asked the questions whenever Stingmon didn't. It shocked the Chosen to see that minor bruises began forming on the human _long_ after the physical abuse began. How much could he endure? Why is he bothering to answer their questions when he could easily take in all the punishment and **still** come out of this relatively unscathed?

The Digimon of Kindness could care less of his intentions for this interrogation. Neural technology, biometrics: the new technology would definitely help the Digimon in their fight for freedom. The human's gun probably was more powerful than anything the DSI has ever seen. _If we could make guns like that…_

"Mostly utility functions," confessed Christopher, reeling from a strong blow to the face. "I can access a map or an item detector by activating the scanner."

An enthralling idea entered Stingmon's mind. They can find the Chosen Children hiding in isolation with the technology in this device. Even better, with maps and its neural technology, they can nonverbally coordinate attacks on the areas occupied by the humans. Reverse-engineering the scanner would definitely have an impact on the War itself. Who knows what other things the machine could do?

"Surrender your scanner," ordered the insect. With his claws, he cut off the threads holding Chris's left arm. "Tell me how to take this off."

The human reacted sharply, pulling in his arm. "NEVER!"

"Give Lord Stingmon your scanner," pressed Commandramon. Christopher refused over and over again, even as the dinosaur beat him several times.

Stingmon attempted to pull the gauntlet off his forearm, but it couldn't part ways from his skin, no matter how much strength and effort he put in it.

Leomon devised an easy solution to the problem, unsheathing his sword. "Hold out his arm, Lord Stingmon. I will cut it off."

At those words, Chris retracted his arm, grabbing Commandramon's vest by the collar and tossing him singlehandedly at Leomon. The two collided, flying straight to the wall. He glared at the three digimon. "I swear, I'm not letting you take the Realm Scanner."

The Digimon of Kindness remained cool, analyzing the situation. Chris was very protective of his belongings, especially the device on his forearm. He needed it, that was certain. _But for what?_

"Why do you resist?" questioned Stingmon. "We'll just reverse-engineer your precious scanner, and you'll get it back after." _Though I don't know how long it'll take_.

"None of your business!" Chris fumed.

Commandramon trained his M4 on his face. "Effing human!" Several shots burst from the weapon.

"GAH!" squealed the human. The bullets bounced off his face, leaving red marks on his skin. Stingmon wasn't surprised: with Chris able to fight Leomon and Monochromon one on one, his endurance was certainly at a point his skin could resist gunfire. If he was a digimon, he would've been an Adult as strong as an ancient type.

Leomon took over. "Christopher, **why** are you here in the Digital World?"

"None of your—GAH!"

"Don't give us that 'none of your business' crap," Commandramon kept his rifle trained on Christopher. The man was growling furiously.

* * *

Haseo looked up at the hole in the wall, tying a knot on his long, black hair. He turned to Aldo staring at it beside him. "Sir," he protested, "I'm **not** being paid to crawl through holes like this!"

"You're a soldier," hissed Kikuchi. "Be a man! We've all been _trained_ to go through this."

"But it looks so, cramped."

"At least it goes all the way to the other side," whispered Kazuki beside him. "This is _definitely_ an entry point."

The man sighed. "And what does the Colonel say about this?"

"Wait," answered Aldo. He was listening to orders from Reeves, as evident by the finger he kept on his earpiece. "Yes. Yeah. So we're not having a rendezvous anymore, Colonel?"

"Kazuki," He turned to the man. "How do, you feel about this mission? It's your first, too, right?"

He smirked. "Excited, actually. Never thought I'd participate in an important mission like this for my first."

"Me neither," Haseo nodded. Before he could say anything else, Aldo garnered the attention of the two. "Haseo, Kazuki." It was time. "We've been given twenty minutes to infiltrate the base. Synchronize your watches." It was 11.40 p.m. He stepped in front of the hole. "You two know the objectives, right?"

"Yes, sir," both replied.

Aldo nodded. "Follow me." With those words, the scout heaved himself into the small hole on the wall. Haseo cringed. The whole scene reminded him of those erotic vore fantasies of men trying to enter the asshole of a giant woman.

* * *

Veemon groaned, waking up on the bed. He rubbed the swollen bump on his head. "Ouch-ouch-ouch-ouch, that _hurts_." Snapping his eyes open, Veemon saw nothing but an empty clinic. The three digimon and Christopher were gone. It was 11.45 p.m. _They __**didn't**__._

He leapt out of the bed, barging through the double doors. He ran, veering right on the corner. _Why couldn't they just listen to me?_

The dragon could see the hallway split in two directions. Already he could hear muffled voices from "the room". _"What exactly are you looking for?"_

The corridors were eerily empty. _"None of your business"_ Veemon veered left, training his eyes on the silver door on the right, near the windows. _"TELL US!"_

He twisted the knob. The door was locked. _"Answer me."_

The blue dragon pulled on the knob as hard as he could, trying to rip the door off its hinges. _"If you won't tell us what, Christopher…"_

_"Then why?" _The door was attached solidly to the frame, designed to delay intruders. "Nnnnhhhh," Veemon grunted. _"To alter my fate."_

His ears caught a frightening sound. Were they gunshots? _"I told you, no more confusing answers!"_

"GAH!" the Chosen yelped, falling as the door relinquished itself. _"Eff you. It'll take me __**days**__ to explain it; even then, you won't understand a thing!" _He heard a loud crash.

_"We have all night." _It was Stingmon's voice. Casual and confident. Worried, Veemon rushed in. It was the War Room. Ignoring the deactivated television on the other side, he moved to the wall nearest him, knocking lightly to check which was hollow. _Somewhere around here… "Tell me __**everything**__."_

He found the door and kicked it open. "STINGMON!"

* * *

Aldo noticed the hole grew larger as he inched his way through the little passage. Gradually, it became large enough for him to roll out the remaining three feet. Landing on his feet, the scout, trigger finger ready, hid behind a nearby redwood trunk, escaping the path of three digimon: a dark blue bear followed by two green frogs with yellow horns.

_Grizzmon and gekomon_, noted the scout, motioning Kazuki, the second soldier to enter, to regroup with him. Haseo was the last to roll out of the small passage. Bungling his exit, Haseo landed with a light _thump_ on the forest floor. Kazuki raised a finger to his lips, while Aldo peered out, watchful of any digimon approaching their position.

"Twelve minutes," said Aldo, sauntering closer to the open doorway on the southern side of the main building. It was most likely a command center of sorts, probably housing digimon worth killing. He watched two Gazimon exit the building. They resembled blue rabbits standing upright, with elongated claws and three black belts on its tail.

Aldo gestured to the two lights shining nearby. Haseo and Kazuki silently blew the lights out with their weapons. "What just happened?" one of the Gazimon said.

Exploiting their confusion, the three soldiers opened fire on the two digimon, killing them in seconds. "On me," commanded the scout, entering the command center. "We're clearing the first floor. Don't forget, this is purely infiltration."

* * *

Christopher wanted to get out of there. The digimon were beginning to ask him very personal questions. He was shaking, trembling, not by fear, but by the memories invoked by this invasion of privacy. "To alter my fate," he told Stingmon, his head bombarded with images of the woman in green. _"It's the end_," she kept saying. _"Accept it."_ Many times he replayed her smooth, slender hand ripping through his armor as if it was nothing but paper.

Commandramon shot Christopher in the face, prompting him to curse the dinosaur and, as he spoke, crush the barrel of his rifle with his free hand and yank it away from his grip. He flew, keeping his grip on the weapon as he crashed into the wall behind Chris. Leomon, wary of what could happen next, dashed to the human and held him as tight as he could, his Beast Sword on the man's neck. Stingmon demanded Chris to tell him everything he knew.

The white door behind Stingmon swung open, with Veemon yelling the insect's name. He was livid. "Questioning and _torturing _Christopher like he was our prisoner? Why are you permitting this? This isn't like you!"

"It's for the good of our fellow Mon," Stingmon replied. It did not pacify Veemon's frown. "Did you know what he had? He has this scanner, Veemon! Imagine what we can do if we can replicate the technology." He went on, "Improved territorial mapping, better coordinated strikes on the enemy, an armor far **better** than chrome digizoid, and—you'll like this—the ability to find things. We could find Daisuke Motomiya! You two will be together again!

"We'll be back in the Real World by next summer," he envisioned. "A step closer to all our dreams!"

Christopher stared at the blue dragon. He seemed to notice. Stingmon patted Veemon's back. "You'll support this, won't you? I'll see to it you're credited for this miracle."

"Miracle?"

"That's right. You _are_ the Digimon of Miracles, after all."

* * *

They crouched underneath the glass panels running across the hallway. Haseo inserted the optical cable under the double doors, while Kazuki and Aldo kept watch on the cobalt corridor, as well as the monsters outside. Their attention was largely preoccupied with each other. Luckily for them, most of the Adults were asleep, and the patrol teams were rather far from the immediate area.

"Haseo?"

"Looks like a mess hall of some sort, sir," he reported. "Few digimon inside. About ten or so. No Adults."

"Got it. Both of you, stack up," ordered Aldo. Once his soldiers were done positioning themselves beside the door, he instructed, "Smoke and clear."

"Roger," acknowledged Haseo, tossing the smoke grenade inside. Five seconds later, the two Modifiers breached the door. Aldo followed suit. The digimon inside were confused by the sudden fog that appeared in the mess hall, prompting some to stand and investigate.

The three Modifiers, spreading out, suddenly appeared from within, startling the monsters. Some screamed, but their shouts were cut off by their deaths. Besides, the concrete walls dampened the sound coming through, making it highly unlikely for anyone else to have heard them. Aldo skillfully assailed two Lalamon and three Gotsumon with bullets modified to pierce even rock. Meanwhile, Haseo and Kazuki dealt with the remaining digimon. Two Kunemon, three Floramon, and one Elecmon were killed, shot to death from two different directions. They didn't stand a chance.

"Clear," said Kazuki.

"Same here," replied Haseo.

"Clear as well," noted Aldo. He raised his index finger and made circles in the air. "Regroup on me. We're moving up." He remembered seeing stairs near the southern entrance. It was their next destination.

* * *

Veemon was silent, then he clenched his fists. He looked away from Christopher, shifting his gaze to Stingmon. "And you're _supposed_ to be the Digimon of **Kindness**, Stingmon. I don't like this one bit! Neither will Ken when he finds out about it."

"WHY **WON'T** HE?" glowered Stingmon. "He misses everyone! Every **night** he tells me he wants to see his parents again, Miyako's family, Daisuke, Hikari, Taichi, and _everyone else_ left behind at the Real World! He wants the old days again, Veemon! The same goes for you! You'll get them the sooner we end this despicable war."

"By driving Chris insane?" the dragon reprimanded. "Some digimon of kindness you are, you're not even treating him like a friend!"

"Why are you defending him?" argued the insect. "He is **not** your partner! What happened to Daisuke? Do you miss him so much you're _substituting_ him with Christopher?"

The blue dragon glared at Stingmon. "It's not like that," he mumbled.

"What do you even know about Chris?" the insect ignored him. "You just met him _yesterday_, and here you are beside him as if you've been with him for weeks! You're letting your emotions cloud you, all because he's the first human in two years to treat you nicely!"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" he shouted. "You're a _Chosen_, Stingmon! Just like me. Don't you feel **anything** when you see humans obsessed with killing us? Do you even know what it's like to be SEPARATED from your partner as long as I've been? To be **alone**? At least Christopher and I can relate! I miss my partner; Chris misses his girlf—"

"ENOUGH!" At this point, Christopher realized Veemon, somehow, had found out about Sally. He didn't give a damn how that happened, but he wasn't letting Stingmon take advantage of this new information and invade his intimate privacy even further. He slammed his head on Leomon's chin, knocking him down. Feeling the lion's grip loosen, he ripped his other hand from the strands binding him, rising after some effort. "I've been _tolerating_ your effing questions this entire time just so I can **earn** your trust!" He pocketed the DITE. Leomon rose, prepared to pin Christopher, but, having seen this coming, he grabbed his gun and trained it on the lion. "But now, you're making things personal." Chris glared at Veemon. "**Too** personal."

Stingmon attempted to block him, but Chris was faster, suddenly grabbing the back of his helmed head then hammering the floor with it. "Screw you all! This charade is a WASTE OF MY EFFING TIME."

He retrieved his staff. Walking to the door, he found Veemon standing still, obstructing the door, shocked at what just transpired. The dragon lifted his foot to step aside but the impatient and enraged Christopher shoved Veemon aside. "Out of my way! I **never** should've gone here in the first place!"

* * *

Aldo and his teammates ascended the stairwell, taking care to exercise due caution. He was mindful of the limited time they had before the invasion began.

_"ENOUGH!_"

The voice, muffled, seemed to have emanate from the other side of the building. Raising a finger to his lips, Kikuchi crept silently up the stairs ahead of his team, peeking at the next corridor. It was a long, cobalt hallway stretching all the way to the other side of the building. It had nothing but an almost equally long window on the left side.

Beckoning Haseo and Kazuki to follow, Aldo, crouching, ran to the other side as fast he could. Something was happening on the other side. The angry tone of the voice suggested some sort of internal conflict. Things were getting interesting. _"Screw you all!"_

As the trio made their way to the other side, their progress was complemented with an announcement from Reeves' cocky voice, one Aldo has been waiting for the entire night. "Kikuchi, your team is hereby authorized to use maximum force." _"This charade is a WASTE OF MY EFFING TIME!"_ "Operation: Midnight Assault will commence in two minutes. Do **not** forget your objectives."

"Roger that," acknowledged Aldo, agog. He stopped, turning to his team as he grinned. "You heard the Colonel."

They stacked up on the next corner, standing as the windows didn't reach that far. _"I __**never**__ should've gone here in the first place!" _The voice was close. Aldo edged the corner, leaning his head for a sneak peek.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the room in the next hall, the one with its door left lying on the middle of the corridor. To his surprise, a blonde **human** walked out the doorway and leaned on the wall. He held nothing, though he had a white staff on his back. He appeared quite stressed. Aldo couldn't recognize him. He wasn't a Chosen, that much Kikuchi was certain of, considering his strange clothes. _But why is he here?_

"Chris!" called a voice behind him. It struck the scout as familiar. _**Very**__ familiar._ "I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to bring Sally up."

The man cringed at the name. "Don't apologize. I didn't want Stingmon questioning me about her." _Stingmon? As in __**the**__ Stingmon?_ Aldo gleefully snickered at the thought of personally killing the digimon partner of the most wanted man on _both_ worlds. "How did you find out, anyway?"

"Err," the second voice trailed. Kikuchi gasped when he saw its owner emerge from the door. It was Veemon, back from the dead. The bullet wound he had given him the previous day was healing. In place of his slash wound was a faint scar running across the belly. There was no doubt about it. It _was_ the same digimon from the Spire. How he survived and made it here was a mystery to the scout.

Wasn't he supposed to have been killed by the person he and Reeves met last night on their descent? He studied the human once more. One glance convinced Aldo the man was as foreign as the person they met. _If there were __**two**__ people on the Spire that time… _the only way this would make any sense was that Veemon encountered this Chris, and some other digimon just happened to meet the other person. Chris was friendly; the other was hostile.

There was only one way to rectify this gross mistake. Aldo Kikuchi modified his gun, adding the second trigger.

* * *

"Errr," dawdled Veemon. "After I left your food in the clinic… You woke up seconds later, aaaaand I was still close by when everyone else was, downstairs."

He fumed. "Just what did you see?"

"Everything."

It astonished Christopher somewhat, as it meant Veemon had seen him at his weakest. Strangely he was not surprised at all. Perhaps he had suspected it the moment he heard the door creak and noticed the blue digimon peeking. The news calmed him somehow, and he forgot his anger. _Was he trying to tell me, I'm not alone?_

Chris gave him a light smile. "You're a great friend, you know that?"

"I get that a _lot_ from Daisuke." The Chosen laughed, and so did he, but his goldenrod eyes only held a melancholic stare on the digimon. _I'm sorry, buddy. But this is where we part ways._

"Veemon…"

"WAH!" The blue dragon yelped, jerking suddenly, pointing at a human soldier rolling from the next hallway, crouching up with gun trained on him. The rifle whined, sending orbs of energy flying towards Veemon, their color all-too familiar.

Time froze for Chris; flashing before his eyes was every traumatic memory he had in recent days.

_The woman in green hovered opposite Sally, a tangible lime glow ominously caressing her hands._

_"Exactly why I will __**enjoy**__ killing this woman before your eyes."_

Chris placed himself before the two-foot Veemon, the sheer speed startling the digimon.

_Christopher_ _watched the priestess's mouth move for the last time, as she disappeared in a flash of red and lime._

He hugged the blue dragon, shielding him from the balls of light.

_"The end, 'Christopher Van Numen'. Accept defeat."_

The lime balls ignited as they made contact with Christopher's back, erupting into agonizing pain.

* * *

Aldo did _not_ expect the human to shield the Chosen from harm. It was a sad loss, killing what he thought an innocent civilian. The new weapon would leave nothing behind. He had to admit though, he _never_ saw the balls of energy explode when he used them against the Woodmon.

The scout recoiled at what the smoke revealed when it dispersed. The human was _not_ vaporized like the Woodmon. Instead he sustained damage: the orbs of energy made the armor around his back crack slightly. His arms were raw and red, seemingly burned. Blood oozed gradually out of the wounds, sizzling on the concrete floor.

It must've been painful. But the human endured it. "T-that is," he stuttered. His tone connoted shock. Confusion. "T-that is…"

He brought out a small piece of metal, brandishing it as the object extended into a menacing black sword. "That is…" He began hyperventilating. Dashing towards Aldo, the man closed the gap between them quickly. "WHY?"

"Shit!" Aldo cursed, diving right to avoid the fatal slash. The sword easily sliced through the wall on his left, getting itself stuck in it. A blast of wind broke out, so strong it shattered the entire glass window on the second floor in one second.

_Who IS this? _Kikuchi watched the man pull his sword out the concrete, dragging with it a chunk of the wall. "WHY DO YOU HAVE IT!" His goldenrod eyes shimmered, staring coldly at the scout. "**THAT IS ****MY**** TECHNOLOGY!**" he roared ferociously, lunging at Aldo for another attack.

Aldo wasn't going to be caught off-guard this time. "D-Modify!"

Haseo and Kazuki undid the locks on their digivices, seeing their team leader in grave danger. "D-Modify!"

Simultaneously, raucous explosions thundered throughout the compound. An alarm was being raised. Bestial screams and roars boomed through the corridor as the air was filled with the whining of several rifles.

Operation: Midnight Assault has finally begun.

.

.

.

_Operation: Midnight Assault has begun. The Modifiers are attacking the satellite base, armed with weapons capable of permanently deleting a digimon in a single hit! While it was somewhat expected that Chris wouldn't be vaporized in an instant by the Modifiers' new energy weapons, it is notable that these are capable of damaging him, proving that Christopher is not so invincible as recently portrayed. It is disturbing, still, to hear him claim these weapons as "his technology". Does Chris really have connections with the enemy, as feared? What implications does this new development have on the War between humans and digimon?_

_Sadly, the interrogation was a dismal failure. Chris, obstinate, refused to say anything about himself, deserting 'the room' when things became too personal for him to endure. The relationship between the two Chosen was strained instead, a battle of Veemon's unwavering personal sense of justice and friendship versus Stingmon's kind feelings of helping Ken and Veemon at the expense of one person. This clash was prematurely ended by Chris's explosive exit, leaving no room for closure and reconciliation between them. With a major battle occurring in their own home, how will the two digimon repair their relationship?_

_Coming up next on _"the Interloper"_, a battle in the Command Center! A second Digimon VS Modifiers: Veemon, Stingmon, Commandramon, and Leomon against Aldo, Haseo, and Kazuki. Will the presence of Chris tip the scales towards the Digimon, when their opponents carry weapons capable of killing him?_

* * *

Author's notes:

- The next chapters are going to be FULL of action XDD Soldiers vs. Digimon FTW \m/ Knowing me, that'll be a lot of words, and a hell lot of proofreading since I tend to be perfectionist when it comes to battle scenes nyahaha

EDIT 15 Jun 2010: I had to repost 4th chapter because FF cut out all the separator lines! GAAAHH so that's why everybody kept telling me about being confused with the multiple perspectives. GRRRR!


	5. Æther

Author's notes:

[1] Word count: approx. **14640** according to MS Word.

[2] I would have published this chapter weeks earlier. But as I desired to give Chapter Five the same quality as Chapter One so much, I decided to put in so much detail in the battle and just as much work in the proofreading (I do it every time I added a story "segment"). Sometimes, I'd rather do HW, read manga, or watch anime. Heh. Well, without further adieu, it's done. At effing last. If you're reading this chapter, and you want to enjoy this chapter as much as I did when I wrote it from scratch, then you better get comfortable in that chair of yours and prepare good food (popcorn? :D). ^^

[3] Recommended music to listen to during the battle: Breath of Fire V: Dragon Quarter's _Strong Enemy_. You can find it here: **Y o u t u b e .com/watch?v=KhCUHSkqmYQ**

[4] Enjoy the chapter!**  
**

* * *

_Technology and ingenuity were the driving forces of humanity's accomplishments in warfare. Each death paved the way for technological evolution, supplanted by the desire for civil victory. Man is intrinsically violent, forgoing idealism and idyllic peace in times of danger, their will to control, subjugate, or delete driven by their natural proclivity for suspicion and belligerence. Is it any wonder that everything we take for granted today, were first developed with these intentions in mind?_

Christopher lunged viciously at the Black, attacking at once. The soldier barely evaded the cut, and attempted to counter. A gust of wind nullified this, blowing him further back. Responding to his situation was another man coming in from Chris's left, bullets zooming out of the brown rifle he held to his eyes.

_Digital Monsters, equal to humans in autonomy and reason, face this terrible will of mankind and their constantly evolving technology. Powers once reserved for the Chosen were reverse-engineered into their hands, tipping the scales of War against the monsters organized loosely by the remnants of its greatest heroes, the Twelve._

The bullets bounced off his skin, leaving red marks. Undaunted, Chris took a big step forward, thrusting the DITE towards the neck. "Haseo!" cried the third soldier, who stood beside the shattered windows. He undid the catch on some device attached to his wrist. "D-Modify!" Haseo ducked, barely eluding the fatal strike; his comrade endured the blast of air, steadying his aim, pulling the trigger. Orbs of yellow-green energy flew towards Chris.

He skipped back to avoid the orbs, running subsequently towards Haseo's comrade. His sheer speed enabled him to stay two steps ahead of his aim. It even caught the man by surprise. "He's too fast! D-Modi—oomph!" Chris's fist made contact with his jaw, cutting him short.

The blow pushed him back. Chris, still subject to momentum, revolved in place. Going full circle, he leaped towards the soldier he just punched, raising his weapon with the intention of cutting him in half.

_History repeated itself tonight. New technology fell into the hands of humanity, applied directly and immediately to military use, not against fellow men, but against the monsters they wish to control, to subjugate, to discipline, to delete. _

Whining noises emitted from the front. Looking up, Christopher caught multiple lime orbs whizzing towards him, swiftly. They exploded when they struck his upper body, cracking the front of his breastplate, slightly ripping his pants. The immense force shoved him to the wall further back, leaving him gasping from the excruciating pain as he fell, coughing blood. Taking a direct hit, the orbs left the feeling of intense heat on his torso and legs. How uncomfortable.

The upside was he had a second chance to experience the orbs for himself. There was no doubt about it. They were using extremely advanced weaponry, technology way beyond anything Christopher had ever seen in his travels, technology, as far as he knew, only **he** used. How did they get their hands on it?

_Its potentials are limitless, immense power so overwhelming it voids everything it strikes, leaving absolutely nothing behind. The benefactor remains shrouded in doubt, instigating perplexity even among the first wielders of this divine energy._

* * *

Aldo Kikuchi never expected such a formidable enemy. The man moved just as fast, or even faster, than a skilled Modifier with the digivice activated. He might as well be stronger: Kazuki _flew_ when he got hit, and this Chris still had enough momentum to build up a slash that could've killed him if the scout didn't intervene. He was virtually immune to unmodified attacks; Haseo's 7.62mm bullets bounced off him like they were air pellets.

What he found frightening, however, was the fact that the human was inexplicably resistant to the new weapons they brandished, receiving damage rather than being erased from existence straight out. Why did he call their weaponry "his technology"? Did it have something to do with the strange effect the orbs of energy had on him?

"A-a-aldo, sir!" clamored Haseo, interrupting his train of thought. "I don't believe it," he stammered, watching Chris slowly rise from the floor, spitting sputum tainted crimson. "You got him right on the chest, but he's STILL WHOLE!"

The scout glanced at Kazuki; he too was recovering, rubbing his broken jaw. The blue lines of digital energy caressing it made Aldo confident of his return to battle in a minute. "There's a _blue_ digimon further in the hallway. Haseo, I want you to **kill him **at all costs."

"But…!"

"Kazuki and I will deal with this bastard." Chris was the biggest threat Aldo's team had encountered on this mission. He must be neutralized as soon as possible, but unless he had glaring weaknesses, one Modifier won't be enough. Two had a slight chance of winning, however fraught with risks. Three were preferable, but with two high-profile targets on the second floor, there was no way he could have his team focus completely on eliminating him. A Modifier with standard equipment could still take down several low-levels and delete them permanently using the digivice. _Haseo'll be alright alone_. "Now go. That's an order."

"Roger," Haseo nodded, disappearing into the next corridor.

This movement drew Chris's attention. "Not Veemon!" He staggered after Haseo, trying to grab hold of him.

Aldo undid the catch. "D-Modify!" He leapt, flipping around. His feet touched the opposite wall, allowing him to rebound towards Chris. He pulled the second trigger. The man bounced sideward, away from the floor where the orbs were directed. But that was his intention. He undid the catch one more time, "D-Modify!" A huge, orange flame sparked, flickering brightly over his fist. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

His opponent was caught off-guard, and the attack connected. A **tremendous** explosion erupted from the blow, destroying a section of the corner, chucking Chris southeastward into the next room: an unoccupied but neatly-kept bedroom now littered with concrete rubble from the blast.

Kikuchi landed on his feet, readying his rifle.

* * *

Veemon followed Christopher, wanting to help. But he stopped halfway, staying put, gawking at the battle as it began. The way Chris fought scared him. In less than fifteen seconds he pushed back the Black Modifier and his unseen comrades, evaded their weapons, and almost defeated them on his own. He was moving **much** faster compared to his battle with Leomon, executing all his attacks with terrifying proficiency. Was this really his new friend, going all out when he had reason to? _H-he's a monster! _Even when repulsed, hitting the concrete divider between the corridor and the War Room, he could see in his goldenrod eyes the numbing gleam Veemon himself was subjected to when they first met. Truly, "monster" was a fitting description.

A man emerged from the next corridor, bypassing Chris with the intent to kill written all over his face. Veemon stepped back, anticipating gunfire. There was little room, and no cover available. _Me and him one-on-one! _Where was Leomon? Stingmon? Commandramon?

"Not Veemon!" Chris _staggered_ after the Modifier, left arm outstretched, right arm holding the DITE. The blue dragon appreciated Christopher's efforts to preserve his life. That he willingly risked his for Veemon's and continued to do so was solid proof against everything his interrogators had accused him of.

The Black appeared from behind, punching Chris with a blazing strike. An explosion ensued, and then the two were gone, blown into one of the guest bedrooms by the looks of the mess it created.

"Chris!" called Veemon. Gunshots rang from the soldier running at him. The Chosen rolled right, reaching for his holster, grasping air. _Agh! I forgot to get another gun from the armory!_ The Modifier had closed the distance in those few moments, as he found him poking the barrel of his FN SCAR in his face. _Uh-oh._

Veemon slid underneath the man's legs right before gunfire burst from the weapon, wasting no time after, sweeping the floor with his foot. The Modifier lifted his leg and brought it down, catching his kick. Veemon grunted, noticing the man lift his gun and aim it on his belly.

He pushed the gun away, one of the bullets grazing his left arm. He winced, but that didn't deter him from maintaining his hold on the weapon's quivering barrel. "VEE HEADBUTT!" His sturdy head smashed into the man's knee, its bones and joints giving way, crackling.

The man fell back, giving Veemon room to back off and stand. Blue energy snaked the kneecap, healing the injury before he could fall to the floor. This time, he leapt at the man, stretching his fist out. It was a low, yet strong jump. Given his height of two feet, the best place to hit was the soldier's solar plexus. He was certain the attack would knock all the wind out and leave him unconscious.

The Digimon of Miracles was completely caught by surprise when the Modifier jumped as well, causing him to strike the malleable air rather than his target. The area around him dimmed. His crimson eyes rolled up, catching a partial glimpse of the man _flooring_ his elbow on Veemon's head. He yipped, landing underneath him, feeling the man's body pin him down. "Gotcha!" he hissed, grabbing the Chosen's head. He steadied his shaking hands. "Now die, you lizard," he muttered, tightening his grip, pressing inward. "You've given me enough trouble."

Veemon, an ancient type, was a strong digimon. Yet there was nothing he could do to save himself. He was lying on his belly. The man was on top of him, keeping him in an awkward position that sapped even the strength of his well-muscled arms. A steadying increasing pressure on his head disoriented the blue dragon. He could hear his own heart beating. In desperation he clutched both arms, sinking his little white claws into the Modifier's skin, an act that had no positive effect whatsoever.

The man instead strengthened the squeeze. Veemon buckled, struggling, struggling to escape. He opened his mouth, intending to bite him, just for a few moments of sweet relief! But the man's rough hands covered the upper half of his face above the mouth. Veemon's normally bent tail straightened sharply. Convulsing violently, the torment began, settling so abruptly when his skull began caving in under the intense pressure, emitting crackling sounds only he and the Modifier could hear. "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

Christopher hacked the air the moment Aldo followed him inside. The gun was dangerous; its user **must** be distracted before the distance could be closed. When the rush of air came, the Black staggered. _Exactly as intended. _He made his move, slicing up from left to right when he approached, barely noticing the man undo the catch. "D-Modify!" He held his combat knife in an ice-pick grip, its silver edge gleaming, wrapped in azure, ethereal lines as both weapons collided.

The DITE slightly redirected, Aldo's nose was scraped. Chris found his eyes directed at something behind him just as the wind blasted him away chuckling. He looked back. Nothing but a well-organized bed, albeit littered with dust and rubble. What could've possibly invoked this cheerful snicker?

Footsteps echoed, advancing fast. Sighting the attacker via peripheral vision, who raised his fist and charged with a left hook, Chris retracted the DITE and shifted, clipping the arm when it flew past his shoulder. Using brute strength alone, the soldier was hurled to the other side. It was a decoy, Chris realized when shrill whines climbed from behind. Orbs of light streamed out from a smirking Aldo's rifle, zipping towards him. Chris tore left towards the middle of the room, out of the line of fire, but his strategy was undermined when Kazuki cut him off, lightning concealing his hand entirely. "ELECTRIC FIST!"

He blocked the strike with the Scanner, a natural reflex. Electricity surged through his body, electrocuting him. "Agh!" It would've killed a normal man. For Chris, it was enough to _stun_ him for a second, ample time for Kazuki to squeeze the second trigger.

_He's too close! I need to redirect his aim. _"Restoration!" Chris slashed, but missed when Kazuki, anticipating it, skipped back, forgetting to consider the gust of wind. He failed to hit his target, the lime balls whooshing above Chris's head. Christopher swiped at the Modifier's neck. Kazuki barely evaded it, unable to escape the blast of air. Divested of his rifle, he crashed into the wall. His opponent trapped, Chris executed his attack, knowing full well it'd probably destroy a portion of the concrete.

* * *

"FIST OF THE BEAST KING!"

The human on top of Veemon never saw it coming. The attack hit his spine. He couldn't have survived. The body even flew meters across the hallway. Leomon marveled at the rubble littering the next corner, clean potholes lining the floor and wall. _What happened there?_

He hurried to the blue dragon lying on the floor, uttering his name worriedly. "Speak to me!" He urged, kneeling beside him. He wasn't dissipating—Veemon was **still** alive. _For now._ His eyes remained closed. _No, he couldn't die now._ Not when his life was just saved. "Get up!" Leomon gave the white cheek a light slap. If the Chosen really died, hope would be bleak.

This invasion was Leomon's worst fears coming true. It happened so fast. No sooner had sounds of battle began echoing from the corridors were the alarm bells raised. Stingmon was still dazed from Christopher's violent outburst; Commandramon stunned, waiting for the pain on his back to recede.

All the evidence pointed to Chris as the conductor of this ambush. The incursion wouldn't make sense otherwise. Leomon clenched his fists furiously. Veemon believed so strongly in his innocence, trusting him as if they'd been friends far longer than a single day, refusing to admit him an enemy, a conniving agent of the DSI. And it was all deception! How dare he exploit the naïve, blue dragon?

.

_I will __**kill**__ you. _

.

A weak rasp escaped Veemon's mouth. Leomon glanced down and felt relief wash over him. Veemon was alive. The dragon clasped his own head. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow… that hurts. That really, **really** hurts." He opened his eyes, staring straight at the lion towering over him. "L-Leomon…?"

Leomon offered his hand. "Can you walk, Lord Veemon?"

"Yeah, thanks." He accepted the lion's assistance, pulling himself up. "I feel kindaaaa woooozy."

"It'll subside in a minute," consoled Leomon. "But first we need to get you and Stingmon out of here." He placed his huge palm behind Veemon's back, supporting him as they walked back to the War Room's open doorway. The plan formulating in his head was a simple one: wake Stingmon and Commandramon up. Escort the two Chosen downstairs. Rearm Commandramon and Veemon in the armory. Make a daring escape out back, heading east, deeper into the forest. Leomon hoped they'd run into Christopher. With three monsters by his side, he knew they could take him down if they worked together.

Behind the two digimon chimed the sounds of a gun being cocked. Leomon gazed back, appalled to see the human he killed standing, his rifle raised. Veemon gasped.

"…_those three humans had __**digivices**__ that can strengthen themselves. Modify their limits." _

He could see the blue glow emitted dully by the silver device on his wrist, watching azure lines coalesce below the barrel of his rifle. _A Modifier!_ "FIRE ROCKET!"

The grenade jetted out of the launcher, heading straight for the two-foot dragon. If it hit, nothing would be left, each precious datum consumed by the explosion. Leomon was an Adult, and figuring he would survive, placed himself behind Veemon, kicking him back with his foot. He held his arms out.

"Leomon!" shouted Veemon, his voice muffled by the explosion. The lion underestimated the strength of the blast. He was flung back, colliding into the Chosen. Both lobbed to the intersection of all three corridors.

Leomon opened his eyes, finding his legs gone. Warm liquid poured from the two crimson stumps, spreading on the floor. Death from blood loss was imminent; in his blurry vision he saw the Modifier sauntering towards them, emptying his magazine into the lion's chest.

Veemon pulled himself out from underneath, covered in Leomon's blood, ensanguined. "L-Lord Veemon." His voice was weak. He was barely able to keep his eyes open.

"No… Leomon!" the dragon shook him frenetically. "Leomon! Don't die!"

"Harmonious Ones… please watch over him…" He disappeared, exhaling his last breath.

"LEOMON!"

* * *

Veemon held the dispersing body in his arms, watching the data fly. He gazed at them, forlorn, grieving, holding no malice against the fallen lion, despite the prejudice with which he justified Christopher's maltreatment. He was simply concerned for him, and his fellow monsters. In the months they spent battling the fearful humankind since his birth (or rebirth, due to popular rumors) in Primary Village with Ken and Stingmon he shared much of the dragon's innocent idealism and hope, at least until despair and misanthropy seeped in, seeing the terrors his less fortunate comrades were subjected to upon capture.

Notwithstanding this divergence in values he and Leomon retained their amicable relationship. After all, those who had been hardened by battle together end up forging an equally resilient bond. Some tears trickled from Veemon's eyes. _Not another friend… _

"Damn pussy."

The nasty remark colored Veemon's face with an angry scowl. As the Modifier detached the empty clip from his FN SCAR, the Chosen noticed Leomon's data particles flowing towards his digivice. Was he absorbing the lion's data? **Denying**Leomon his rebirth in Primary Village?

Rage flared up within. The soldier before him was deleting Leomon postmortem, and Veemon could do **nothing** but watch the asshole do his deed, fumbling around his waist for another magazine. The Digimon of Miracles remembered Stingmon and Commandramon lying in the War Room. Were they awake? Were they still down? Either way, there were in danger.

The image of Chris getting hurt seemed impossible for the Chosen, but how could he forget the damage he suffered? He could see the Black standing at the corner, whining gun pulsing with energy, trained into the guestroom. Even Christopher was in trouble. Then there were the monsters outside.

He growled. _I won't let them! _Veemon removed the Beast Sword from its sheath, before its owner and scabbard disappeared in a flash of data. Rising, _you won't take anymore friends! _Not without a fight.

* * *

Kikuchi was about to lose "Mr. Practical" if he didn't act fast. He entered the cluttered room seeing Chris defend himself against Kazuki and retaliate with brutal force, disarming him. Shooting the man with the energy weapon was risky. He'd end up killing Kazuki if Chris somehow detected the attacks.

As he observed the battle further, wisdom sparked in the scout's head. The man's threat to the mission was now _severely _reduced. Informing Reeves of this development was unnecessary at this point.

In a mad dash, Aldo reached for Christopher's arm. The man detected his movements, yet performed nothing. Was he thinking of taking a hit and kill his teammate in the process?

He smirked. Chris was _clueless_ to what he had in mind. Aldo tugged his arm at the last second, slowing him down considerably. For Kazuki this opening was providential, allowing him to dash away from what would've been certain death.

"AHA! I **KNEW **IT!" Aldo exclaimed. "You can't produce wind unless you complete your slash. Even if you do," he undid the catch, setting his forearm ablaze. "The blast of air only **goes straight**! KNUCKLE FIRE!"

Kikuchi expected the man to evade the strike, and Chris met his expectations. The flaming hand impacted the concrete, setting off another explosion. It destroyed yet another corner of the bedroom, revealing the intersection of three corridors.

Chris retaliated, poising to slice. It was here that saving Kazuki paid off: coming in from Chris's left, he rushed in with a glowing digivice in hand instead of shooting with the gun he retrieved, bypassing the risk of friendly fire.

* * *

"Looks like it's just you and me now." Haseo cocked the rifle. "You won't get lucky again." Leomon interrupted him at a most inopportune moment. Had he been late for a few more seconds, the blue dragon's skull would've given in to his pressure. _No matter. Each digimon killed was worth the bonus yen._ Management was generous with incentives. That's how it was in the DSI.

Veemon ran towards him, keeping a tight grip on the lion's sword. He pressed the trigger, firing a 3-shot burst. Veemon sidestepped, dodging the bullets. Haseo did it again, and again as he continued to dodge. The Chosen came close, swiping at him with the blade. He undid the catch. "D-Modify!" The FN SCAR took on a shade of gray, and was used to parry the strike. The blue dragon slid sidewards, dragged by the weight of the sword.

Undaunted, Veemon bounced from the wall with a kick, countering the momentum. He lowered his skull and aimed for Haseo's face. "VEE HEADBUTT!" Executed so fast, there was no time to pull off the earlier counter. Instead he raised his palm, pushing the blue head when it came dangerously close, redirecting it. The force of the attack grazed his right shoulder painfully.

A red slit appeared, immediately sparking with blue lines. Veemon had attempted to cut his arm off when he passed, whipping around in the air. Haseo was fortunate for his inexperience with the sword, failing to consider the weight and momentum necessary to amputate his limb. The wound healed, but no digital energy could spare Haseo from anger consuming him, seeping into his intimidating glare as he watched the Chosen clumsily land on his feet. "D-Modify!"

Veemon moved in, knowing better to engage a ranged combatant in close quarters. _A mistake_, Haseo thought, aiming his gun at the Chosen, prompting him to push it away with his right hand and follow it up with a downward slash. The Modifier sidestepped out of the blade's path, plunging the butt of his grayed FN SCAR down Veemon's head. The digimon rolled away and leapt at him, catching Haseo's neck between his legs. He twisted sideways, taking Haseo down.

* * *

Sitting down with the Modifier's head between his legs, Veemon had moments to act. He could just plunge the Beast Sword in his face and kill him. The thought made him shiver. _I don't kill_. Conceiving a brilliant idea, he crossed his legs and inserted his feet into the collars of the Modifier's battle dress, not forgetting to clutch both sides of the collar with his clawed toes. Lowering himself, he pulled as hard as he could, choking the soldier's two carotid arteries._ Now sleep!_ Truthfully, it would've been easier to do it with his hands, but after almost getting his skull crushed, the blue dragon couldn't risk it happening again, not with his small height.

Haseo was resilient, enduring the pressure. The Modifier thrashed, trying to rise. Veemon thumped his hands on the floor, digging his little claws into the concrete. The force made them crack, but at least he managed a good grip. _Must, hold oooonnnnnn…_

A sudden explosion startled Veemon. Pieces of concrete flew out from yet _another corner_ of the guestroom. Distracted, he saw the Black Modifier standing before the hole, fist outstretched. Christopher was right beside him in a battle stance, not noticing another soldier sprinting towards him.

"Christopher!" Veemon yelled. "TO YOUR LEFT!"

* * *

The diversion allowed Haseo to reverse the situation, standing unobstructed. The blue dragon dangled from his collar, but not for long. He grabbed his neck with one hand. Rather than crushing his windpipe, he lifted him up, undoing the catch on his digivice. Then he slammed Veemon unceremoniously on the floor with so much power it created a small crater on the concrete flooring and left the digimon moaning.

Haseo trained his gun on the fallen dragon. "No one to save you now," he muttered, pulling the trigger. "Damn liz—argh!"

* * *

Chris glanced left, seeing Kazuki dash to him. "ELECTRIC FIST!" Chris shifted his body, anticipating the trajectory. The lightning-laden arm passed, prickling the hair on his skin. It could've been worse: had he received the hit, he would've been stunned long enough for Aldo to shoot at without fear of friendly fire.

He grabbed the humerus and used it as a fulcrum to swing round to Kazuki's back. Glimpsing Haseo about to finish Veemon off, Chris repaid the blue dragon, rearing both arms back, and shoving Kazuki forward, pitching him towards Vee's opponent. Aldo dove out of the way.

They collided, flying further into the hallway.

* * *

Veemon coughed from the choke slam, spitting out blood of his own. He sat up, still dyed red, glimpsing the Modifier he fought farther away, near the corner close to the stairwell. Beside him laid a second soldier, resembling the one who ambushed Chris. He glanced at the guestroom, watching Chris flash a thumbs-up, just as the Black exploited this new opening.

.

"Haseo, he's _still_ alive? He's just a Child!"

The blue dragon turned towards the voice, looking at the man beside Haseo, wielding the black rifle.

"He'd be dead already, Kazuki," answered his opponent, "If **you** didn't hit me back there!"

Kazuki spat on the floor. "Let's not bicker," he said, training the rifle on Veemon. It whined. "**I'll **kill the lizard. Then we can _both _get back to work."

Threatened, Veemon attempted to escape, only to fall when he rose. His body had yet to recover from the slam, requiring time unavailable. A single orb of yellow-green light emerged from Kazuki's rifle. The Digimon of Miracles jerked out of the way; it missed his head by inches, consuming part of the floor instead. _One hit could kill me! _It was best to take cover in the corridor leading to the clinic, but a gust of wind from the guestroom pinned him down. Worriedly, he glanced left, expecting many more coming his way.

Fortunately, the Modifiers were distracted by something beyond the corner, to their right.

"SPIKING FINISH!"

Kazuki ducked. A saber of purple energy jutted out from the unseen corridor, narrowly missing his torso. Haseo backed up.

Veemon retrieved the Beast Sword from the floor. _Stingmon! _He ran to the corner. Stingmon had finally recovered, appearing behind the two Modifiers. _Ambushing them through walls? _He laughed inwardly at the way the Digimon of Kindness entered the battle. _What an entrance!_

* * *

Stingmon woke up first, roused by a sudden explosion. Listening closely to the events transpiring in the hallways, he could hear the Digimon of Miracles warning Christopher, soon followed by two voices conversing near them, separated by a thin line of concrete.

Commandramon groaned, rising from the corner with one hand on his back. "Lord Stingmon, ugh, w, what's going on?"

"We're under attack."

The insect remained calm, composed. Leomon was no longer around. Then one of the two men outside talk about killing a "lizard" as a shrill pitch climbed. Only one digimon was in the hallway.

Stingmon made his move, slamming his entire body on the wall. He emerged in the hallway, garnering the attention of the two soldiers. Immobilization was priority one. "SPIKING FINISH!" announced the Digimon of Kindness. The target ducked out of the way; his comrade backpedaled, undoing the catch. "D-Modify! BLUE THUNDER!"

He evaded the grenade, which erupted into a mass of lightning. The green insect noticed his target aim away from him, towards Veemon. Gunfire burst from behind, hitting his hand, disarming him. Commandramon rushed out of what remained of "the room", aiming his Beretta at the enemy—Christopher had destroyed his rifle during the interrogation.

"Look out, Lord Stingmon!" the dinosaur warned. The other human charged at Stingmon, gun embraced in blue, ethereal lines. Flaming bullets escaped the barrel. He dodged them, noting the micro-explosions they make upon impact with anything they strike. The soldier somersaulted, landing behind Stingmon, his gun aimed at Commandramon.

* * *

Veemon abused the opportunity arising from Kazuki's disarmament. He perceived a bullet inching out of his hand, pushed out by cerulean energy. He thrust the Beast Sword. Kazuki sidestepped, taking out his sidearm. Veemon swiped right, led by the sword's weight. The soldier ducked.

Bad move. Crouching brought Kazuki down to Veemon's level, making it easy for the Digimon of Miracles to grab the soldier's head and ram his forehead on Kazuki's nose. "VEE HEADBUTT!"

_One down._

* * *

Stingmon flew to Haseo's position, whacking him with his huge arm. Haseo managed to block it somehow, squeezing the trigger out of pure instinct, at point-blank. The gun flailed wildly, out of control. Micro-explosions all around drove the Digimon of Kindness back, slightly damaging him.

"D-Modify!" Blue lines of energy coalesced into a blazing fire that wrapped around his forearm. Haseo smashed Stingmon's abdomen with an uppercut. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

The great explosion blew Stingmon away, knocking him back towards Commandramon. His wings were completely destroyed, scorched. "Lord Stingmon!" He sprinted to the green insect, stomping on the embers eating what's left of his wings. "Shit, we're _actually_ losing!"

* * *

Veemon watched orange flares pop around Stingmon and drive him back, allowing Haseo to finish his offensive with the same attack Aldo used on Chris. He ran, wanting to help.

"Sting—WAH!"

Kazuki was **not** down. Jerking suddenly, the Digimon of Kindness was whipped back, his tail grasped tightly by the straggling Modifier. Kazuki revolved his arm, disorienting the blue dragon. Releasing his grip, Veemon was tossed towards Commandramon. "Uh buuhhhhh…"

The military dinosaur stepped aside, watching Haseo ram Veemon with his gun like he was a baseball, hurtling him back into Kazuki's line of fire. The Chosen was dazed.

Stingmon was weak; Veemon, about to die; Christopher, absent. _Presumably mingling with his DSI buddies_, Commandramon vilified. The military dinosaur was the last hope, the only digimon left standing. What could he do to save Veemon's life and initiate a counterattack?

* * *

Aldo Kikuchi acted the moment Chris let his guard down, giving Veemon a thumbs-up for the assist. _Now! _His opponent noticed immediately, skipping back with a swift slice. He sidestepped, feet shuffling as fast as they could. He had to escape the blade's area of effect before the wind kicked in.

He could see it, the opening on Chris's right! The sergeant barely eluded the dreaded gust, but the blond man was quick to react, following it up with a horizontal slash. _No more running_, Aldo thought, shifting closer to his opponent, close enough to get a good look at his goldenrod eyes. In that split second, Aldo found the armor's weak spot, located close to the abdomen where there was no cover at all. How could the three of them have missed that early on? More embarrassingly, how could **he**, Sgt. Aldo Kikuchi, the best scout in the Modifiers, fail to even see it? It was a detail Aldo swore to omit, if ever Lucille or the egotistic Colonel asked about this strange enemy.

Aldo ogled Christopher's eyes, trying to read it. What kind of person would side with digimon? He was foreign. An outsider! Someone who had nothing to do with the war. Yet here he was, defending the monsters as if his life depended on it.

The goldenrod eyes carried an unflinching determination, giving Aldo the impression of a strong, seasoned, possibly **jaded** combatant, an inference easily proven by the way he fought, using a sword against soldiers with _guns_ when he had his own. Kikuchi _had_ noticed it at the start, its handle sticking out a secure holder on his waist. It seemed resilient, even to snatching. Still, there was no need to worry if Chris never intended to use his gun or his staff in the first place. One question, however, lingered. Why? His eyes didn't appear to hold the answers, save for some "sparkle" that suggested some hesitation, or fear—_Wait. What the hell am I doing?_

_I have better things to do!_ He clasped Chris's right hand, digging the rifle into his weak spot. The man gasped in utter shock. "Shit!" After this, there's no point in ruminating anymore over this mystery. _You're dead, mofo. _Kikuchi squeezed the second trigger, holding it until the weapon overheated to the point he had to let go.

Enveloped in smoke, he held only air. The energy orbs blasted Christopher away. A loud rumbling filled his ears, emanating from the western wall. The first hole had widened. As evidenced by the softer, farther thud, Chris hit the wall behind it instead of flying out the large window. Aldo retrieved his rifle and, taking a deep breath, ambled out of the smoke, hoping to see his opponent dead or, at the very least, unconscious in a pool of his own blood.

Squinting, he found a tangible form slumped on the wall. Peering closer, he found Christopher **still** alive, hyperventilating. The lower half of his breastplate was wiped clean. To his immense horror, his bare abdomen was completely unharmed, shielded by his left arm. Flabbergasting Aldo further was the fact his silver gauntlet was utterly **spotless**, despite all the blood flowing around it. As if fate played cruel tricks on him, Chris emerged from his maneuver in one piece, devoid of any significant injuries. _What the eff? I SHOT HIM IN HIS WEAK SPOT!_

Christopher noticed Aldo gaping at him. He rose, steadying the black sword in his right hand. Kikuchi maintained his distance. He was exhausted. The same could be said for his opponent. _Maybe I should give diplomacy a chance? _"Why are you still alive? I've shot enough to punch a hole through your effin' gut." Aldo lowered his weapon, feigning non-violence.

He responded similarly, retracting the sword without a word. He lifted his left arm. "This gauntlet's my ultimate defense." He tapped the object affixed to the forearm. "Absolutely _nothing_ can destroy it."

"But you've been hit several times already! How can you be standing right here before me, when you're supposed to be—"

"Gone?" offered Chris. "Missing bits and pieces of myself? **Disintegrated**?" He _knew_ what their weapons could do. Who exactly was he? "Clearly you know **nothing** about the æther."

"Æther?" he repeated. _What the hell? _"We're not living in some fantasy!" Aldo snorted. "Get real, fool! There's no such thing—!"

"Chronic exposure to the æther eventually creates a natural resistance to its raw, destructive power." Marked with distinct authority, his glacial voice commandeered the seriousness of his words. "Significant, physiological changes can also take place, but that comes rarely…" The goldenrod eyes never left the scout.

Aldo stared. _This æther crap would explain a lot. _

"What year are we in?"

"Eh?" He blinked.

"What **year** are we in?" Chris snarled.

"Two… Two thousand thirteen."

Fury gathered in Christopher's eyes. "HOW IN GOD'S NAME DID YOU GET THESE WEAPONS?" he shouted. "Nobody could detect æther, let alone **use it**, until—"

"Asshole!"

The scout had enough of this. **He** was the one with questions. Why was _he_ being put on the spotlight? "**I** do the asking! Who are you? **WHY** are you fighting for these effing monsters when you're _human_?"

"I'm an outsider," Chris clarified. "Not involved at all. I don't belong here. In fact, I **don't **give a damn to what happens to these, 'digimon'. The same goes for you."

"Don't give a damn?" An outsider, he could believe, but someone who doesn't care about the digimon? _I'm no fool! That lizard should be dead now_. Christopher wouldn't have shielded him in the first place if he didn't care! "You screwing with me? Why did you get in our way? Why the EFF did you save Veemon? You even did it **twice**, bastard!"

.

"He helped me. You can say I'm paying back in kind. Nothing more."

.

_An obligation?_

.

…_That's __**it**__?_

It amused Kikuchi to no end. "Why bother? That lizard isn't human; he's man-made! That's **exactly **why he doesn't deserve compensation! Free service is the only reason digimon exist. Digimon who refuse to see that, like everyone in this camp, are **hazards** to humanity, which we must extinguish!" _Don't you know they almost took over the world ten years ago?_

"So? That has nothing to do with me."

"Fool! Doesn't the _Matrix_ ring any bells in that head of yours?" Aldo questioned. "The world will end if we don't stop them!"

"**I** **don't care.**" Seriousness and apathy poisoned his response so much it startled Aldo. What kind of person would claim such catatonic concern for the human race?

He shook his head, disappointed. "Then there's no use continuing." Diplomacy was no longer an option. "God, you're insane." He undid the catch. Blue lines coalesced around his gun, creating the second trigger. "At any rate," he pulled it, storming Christopher. The gun whined, firing lime æther in moments. "You're in my way!"

* * *

It was now or never. Commandramon dug in his pockets, pulling out a pipebomb. He flipped the switch, activating it. "DCD BOMB!" he cried, tossing it over his shoulder, back turned towards Haseo. It was a gamble, but Commandramon **had** to make sure it repelled the Modifier. Rescuing Veemon from his pinch came first, even if it meant his life.

Even as the device exploded, Kazuki ignored Commandramon's approach, focusing his whining rifle on Veemon. Senses heightened, the dinosaur felt like everything was moving slower than normal. Was adrenaline giving him this burst of speed? Or the sense of urgency, the desire to rescue two Chosen from the arms of death? The Modifier readied his finger on the second trigger. Commandramon brandished the sidearm, pulling the trigger thrice, bungling his aim. It did not disarm.

He drew another pipebomb, intending to throw it at Kazuki when Haseo ran to him, ignoring the agonized Stingmon on the floor. Protecting his comrade was primary, evident in the way he pointed the FN SCAR at Commandramon. 7.62mm bullets burst from the barrel. Not as dangerous, but fatal nonetheless. The dinosaur rolled out of the way, firing his Beretta.

Exploiting the distraction, Kazuki unsheathed his combat knife and sauntered **calmly** towards Veemon, who had crashed into the wall, unluckily face-first. Ironic, since he supposedly attracts good luck. Commandramon wasted no time on this languid thought, pressing forward, occasionally turning back to fire his gun.

Eyeing Haseo right behind him, Commandramon jumped, barely eluding another burst of gunfire. He rebounded on the wall, soaring towards Kazuki, unaware of the oncoming attack. The dinosaur aimed the Beretta at the back of his head. _Die, Modifier! _He pulled the trigger, only to find the gun out of ammunition, to his dismay. Still, there was one other option…

"Kazuki," called the soldier. "Behind you!"

"Haseo!" he said, lifting the knife. "Wait! Let me—"

"Fall!" growled Commandramon, raising his free hand. "STRIKE CLAW!"

The sharpened claws swooped in, almost evading Kazuki's detection. He saw it moments before it struck, his dulled reaction time—a consequence of his focus on slaying Veemon—preventing him from dodging it completely. Instead of a lethal blow, he received a huge, agonizing gash across his face. He fell on his knees.

"You effing lizards!" cursed Haseo, cocking his FN SCAR. "I'll kill **both** of you!" He pulled the trigger, modifying the bullets. Commandramon cringed, waiting for the explosion-tipped rounds pummel him and Veemon to oblivion. But Fortune spared the two digimon on this very moment, leaving the Modifier fumbling with his gun, having jammed in the midst of his anger. "BWARGH!"

His comrade, however, had _already _recovered from the wounds his face suffered. And he was **pissed**. Roaring passionately, Kazuki lifted his weapon, its whine shrilling deafly in the air.

* * *

The yellow-green æther whizzed inches away from Christopher's ear. Aldo surged towards him, unrelenting in his attack. Chris maintained his defense efficiently, blocking most of the orbs with the Scanner. _Can't get any information out of him. _"Restoration!" he chanted, slashing the air with the DITE.

Aldo undid the catch. "D-Modify!" Instead of blue lines circling his legs, they revolved around his entire body. A single stride moved the scout right out of the wind's path. Unleashing another burst of æther he proceeded with fist encased in flames. Chris shielded himself from the second æther burst, completely unprepared for a third group of orgs. He swiped at them with the DITE. Igniting on contact, the blasts made the sword crack slightly: both the sword and his armor, after all, were made with the same raw material. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" exclaimed Aldo, closing the gap.

Chris noticed an opening in his form, squatting just before he plunged an uppercut into Aldo's solar plexus. The combat vest absorbed the monstrous impact, nonetheless stunning the Modifier as sheer force lifted him inches above the floor. Pivoting, Chris knocked him leftward with a roundhouse kick, soon chasing after him into the guestroom with DITE in hand, forcing it down on the floor, on his face.

He shifted his neck sideways, avoiding death. He lifted his rifle, only for Chris to kick it away. Though Aldo lost the only weapon capable of killing him, the move gave him enough time to smash his forearm on the blade. With his augmented strength, the sword was knocked from its place, dislodging Christopher's precarious balance.

"D-Modify!" Aldo's fist quaked, pulsating with brilliant, purple sparks. "ELECTRIC FIST!" Taking a **direct hit** in the chest, the current flowing through him made Chris shiver, paralyzed for a few moments. His body moved on its own accord, relinquishing its grip on the DITE. Manipulated by magnetism the sword was flung out of the room so forcibly it disappeared in an instant.

Knowing his opponent's resilience he rolled away, crouched and dove for the rifle on the floor, undoing the catch for the second trigger. Chris himself recovered and watched Aldo open fire. He raised the Scanner to his abdomen, not realizing Aldo aimed somewhere else.

Lime æther rammed into his **legs**, ripping through his black pants, eating at his skin, giving nothing but searing pain. "GAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

* * *

The Digimon of Miracles shook his head, banishing the vertigo from his senses. His entire head ached, face reddened, all slight marks from the earlier crash. But! He was alive. Hurt, but still alive. All thanks to Commandramon. This realization was short-lived. Hearing the dinosaur beside him gasp, he glanced up, seeing Kazuki lift his rifle, screaming ferociously. A large wound running across his face was healing, though it was leaving an ugly scar.

Commandramon couldn't move, paling at the sight of the shrilling firearm, staring straight into its lime glow. The soldier held it with terrifying finality, an evil sneer etched on his lips. Veemon's eyes widened. He was just saved, the third time in five, maybe, six minutes? Now his life was threatened _again_?

He panned left, to Christopher's direction, hoping to hear his friend's footsteps, disappointed to hear the thundering roar of an explosion. Stingmon stirred, but that was just about it. The two humans were hellbent on killing the three digimon.

"_I'm sorry, Veemon. I can't send you to the Real World."_

No more sudden act of mercy.

"_Just, just have faith in Daisuke, alright?"_

No more miracles.

"_No, I've been waiting for a year already! __**You**__ won't even tell me anything! I __**have**__ to get out there. Daisuke needs me! He's my partner!"_

"_The Real World's too dangerous, no."_

"_Too dangerous? __**Then**__ I must go! C'mon Ken! I-I… I made a promise!" _

No ally to bail them out.

"_It's too dangerous for __**you**__. They completely control the Real World. They've forced our friends into hiding. They can even track our D3's! I-I… I'm really sorry, Veemon. I __**cannot**__ send you to the Real World. It's too risky, for both of us._

It was over.

"_They, they, they! Who the hell are 'they'? If they're evil digimon I can just kick their sorry—"_

"_People, Veemon. Powerful people. Politicians. Police. The government. And not just Japan… it's the entire world."_

.

_Over? Really?_

"_The Chosen Children have failed. Thi-this is war. Humans, hate digimon. Not unless they're, they're…"_

"_They're what? Ken! Tell me!"_

"_They're...!"_

He shrugged off the hopelessness, violently quivering his head. His hand scraped the floor.

"_Me being friends with Chris, gives me hope."_

Clutching the Beast Sword, Veemon rose defiantly, rebelling against the dread posed by Kazuki and his whining gun. How could he die now, when things were finally turning up?

"_You're a great friend, you know that?"_

Definitely, he thought, things were changing for the better, gradually. Maybe in a few more years, he could visit the Real World. Then he could mount a search for Daisuke. Or even sooner if he could recruit Christopher and his power, suggested a quick thought._ Maybe he won't mind being sidetracked a bit_.

Brimming with hope, his ears constantly battered by the echoes of the recent and distant past, hope swelled in him, fueling his determination to stand before the Modifier, to face death and struggle for life. _I promised! _Shoving the petrified Commandramon back, he charged towards the Modifier, his heavy steps echoing in the corridor.

Veemon's own body was telling him to evade, but with the little space available, that was impossible. There was no choice but to attack. The shrilling whine of the rifle and the soldier's twisted scream deafened his ears. The blue dragon matched them with a roar of his own, unrelenting with sheer perseverance. _I __**must **__live!_ Everything would be over in a few moments. Whatever awaited him and Commandramon, Veemon left to the gears of fate. Driven by hope and the desire to survive he swung the Beast Sword.

"_For that happy future."_

* * *

Commandramon had resigned himself when he saw Kazuki rise, unfazed yet visibly enraged at the gash he received. His rifle whined shrilly, deafening Commandramon's ears. Cornered, there was no escape. He held it, confident in imminent victory. The lime glow flared from its barrel, adding weight to his malicious sneer.

Startled to feel a hand clasp his shoulder, Commandramon found Veemon standing as well. He was pushed back abrasively. Falling on his butt, he watched the blue dragon rush the Modifier, yelling as if impervious, unyielding, to the desolate, certain reality that was defeat. He wanted to close his eyes so badly, if only to spare his last moments alive from the humiliation of witnessing another hero of the Digital World fall to the crushing might of humanity and technology.

But he wouldn't dare shut his eyes. Veemon's battle cry was infectious, sparking his curiosity. He was the Digimon of Miracles. With Stingmon only stirring, and Christopher nowhere in sight, was there _really _a possibility for a miracle to arise solely from the blue dragon's refusal to give up? Even when all those previous "miracles"—Magnamon and Imperialdramon—came as a result of action _in concert_?

However bleak the situation was, the Chosen maintained the offensive, swinging the sword horizontally, inclined upward with slight angle. He intended to cut Kazuki open. Orbs of energy shot out, hurling themselves at the speed of light. Commandramon blinked.

Opening his eyes to the sound of metal slicing through flesh and cloth booming in his ears, Commnadramon witnessed Kazuki _stumble_, catching sight of a solid piece of metal bouncing off his head, its velocity enough to disrupt his aim. The sudden intervention gave Veemon the opening he needed, successfully carving a wound into the Modifier's belly.

His orange eyes watched the metal block land on the floor. Ebony black and worn-out from handling, Commandramon recognized it as the weapon Christopher carried. Veemon, indeed, lived true to his reputation. Fate granted a miracle at the very last moment, manifesting it in this form. Even when the man in question, a key suspect behind this ambush, was nowhere in sight, he somehow played an immense role in this miracle.

The very fact this happened **despite** its remote possibility amazed Commandramon. Did Veemon somehow know everything was going to work out? Or did the dragon simply acknowledge the situation, choosing to fight fate instead of accepting it as he did? The military dinosaur could feel the will to win welling up, contaminating him. He stood, reaching down his pockets for a magazine, eyeing the other, opportunistic soldier, turn towards the rousing, green insect. _We __**can **__win! I, I can't just give up!_

Reloading his Beretta, he sauntered forward. "Lord Veemon! Leave Lord Stingmon to me, I'll protect him!"

The counterattack had begun.

* * *

Incredulity filled Haseo. Veemon and Commandramon miraculously escaped death by an utterly random event, predicated by a solid block of black steel that most probably belonged to Aldo's opponent. It was too striking, too coincidental. Was the **mere presence** of that mysterious person influencing the way things were turning out? He hoped it didn't. Otherwise, the war may end up ballooning. Escalating. The chilling thought sent Haseo shuddering.

.

He disciplined himself. _Mission first_. Panning his gaze, he found the green insect, Stingmon, partner to the Chosen Ken Ichijouji, leader of this resistance, reviving behind him, groaning, lifting his body slowly. The explosion had taken a great toll on his exoskeletal armor, cracking it, exposing brighter, green flesh within. Green blood even dripped from few of the holes littering the armor. He wouldn't survive another major attack.

But why bother expending the extra effort when he could just flush the insect's head with 7.62mm bullets? That would be more economical, and would make good use of the assault rifle he just attended to. Looking back at Kazuki, who had stepped back the moment he realized he was in trouble, Haseo was confident his teammate would be enough to bar the two other digimon. He raised his rifle, training it on Stingmon. A clear shot.

The sounds of gunfire behind him made it clear someone else won this race. He shifted sideward, evading the bullets. One glance revealed Commandramon breaking past Kazuki and Veemon, his Beretta raised. With 23% power left in his digivice, he couldn't risk frivolous d-modifications. He raised his gun and fired back, but the dinosaur altered his angle of approach, not minding the few bullets grazing his skin as he returned fire.

Haseo rolled to the hole in the wall, hiding in a small room for cover. He peeked out and fired. A grenade was out of the question due to the possibility of friendly fire. Commandramon, like him, rolled, but with the apparent lack of cover he resorted to a more aggressive approach: tucking a hand into his pocket mid-roll, tossing a pipebomb once he was upright. "DCD BOMB!"

It landed behind Haseo. There was no time to get it and throw it out. He leaped out, moments before the grenade engulfed the room with shrapnel and fire, only to see Commandramon right next to him with a gun trained to the side of his head. _Shit! _He ducked, undoing the catch for increased agility: a low-cost modification. He smacked Commandramon with the butt of the FN SCAR, but the dinosaur parried the blow with his claw, recalibrating his aim. Haseo dodged, moving along his opponent's arm as he sprayed bullets in his movement, all on the level of Commandramon's head.

Commandramon narrowly evaded the gunfire at point blank, pointing his handgun at Haseo's gut. At such a close range it would certainly penetrate the combat vest. Working fast, the Modifier detached the cartridge of his rifle. It fell, obstructing the Beretta just as Commandramon pulled the trigger. The bullets hammered the magazine, causing a strong blast that knocked both combatants back. Haseo's vest took most of the damage, but Commandramon's arm had a chunk taken out of it, making him yelp.

"Shut up," Haseo stuck the damaged magazine into the digimon's open mouth. He reloaded the FN SCAR. "And **die**."

"SPIKING FINISH!"

Haseo gasped, diving for the floor just as Stingmon's energy saber thrust forward to where his chest was. _If I get any serious injuries now I'll lose D-Energy to healing!_ The Chosen towered above him and attempted to crush his leg with a well-placed stomp. The Modifier withdrew his leg and launched a grenade. "D-Modify! FIRE ROCKET!"

Stingmon avoided a direct hit, but was repulsed by the explosion when it struck the wall; Commandramon dove out of harm's path, spitting out the clip along with a few 7.62mm bullets loosened from all his coughing. Haseo utilized this opening to stand up and regain his maneuverability, much-needed now that he was sandwiched between the two digimon.

* * *

Veemon's attack failed to incapacitate the Modifier. He evaded, dodging an otherwise crippling attack. But the evasion came too late, and he was nicked on the right forearm. The Beast Sword even brushed against the digivice, but its protective metal frame spared it from damage. Veemon felt the weight of the sword pull him leftward, and the blue dragon used the momentum to jump and divert the soldier's aim with a solid kick, eluding the orbs of energy flying out of the rifle's barrel. Still reeling from the momentum, he brought the Beast Sword up and hammered it down on the Modifier. The attack failed to make its mark on the target, instead leaving it on the concrete floor. Leomon's blade was quite heavy. Veemon's arms were shaking just to hold it. The weight even impeded his responses to whatever attacks the Modifiers have made.

Christopher's screams echoed in the corridor, evoking the images of the injuries he sustained shielding Veemon from certain death. He gritted his teeth. Helping his new friend was out of the question; Commandramon and Stingmon were still in danger. At least he knew Chris could take care of himself. Still, a pressing matter was the thought of the lime orbs actually hitting him. He remembered the way it destroyed the concrete. Their deadliness wasn't something to be trifled with, but Veemon observed that they seemed to erase anything they just… **touch**. _Can this weapon permanently delete digimon? _Whether it did or not, the weapon was a major threat. _I got to defeat him!_

* * *

Kazuki barely avoided getting his stomach cut. Healing such an injury would've been costly in terms of both time and energy. He never saw the blow coming, and when it hit, not only did he stumble, but a residual current stunned him, leaving him with insufficient time to maneuver an efficient evasion. Whatever it was, it was from Aldo's battle with the human. A remnant of his electric fist: that was the only explanation.

_I'll get him for this later_, Kazuki snarled, countering Veemon's offensive with his rifle at point-blank. The digimon utilized the Beast Sword's weight, letting the momentum take over and propel him for a good kick, one that redirected his aim. Unfinished, he concluded his combo with a fierce descending strike. Kazuki jumped out of the way, watching the blade etch its mark on the concrete. He threw a punch at the blue dragon. It hit. Still, the monster endured it, digging his sword deeper into the concrete to avoid the pushback. He attempted a counterstrike, only to find the weapon immovable. "Oh noes, it's stuck!"

Smirking, the Modifier pulled the second trigger, training his rifle on him. Veemon, a little desperate, decided to **kick** the Beast Sword, maintaining his grip on the handle. The weapon gave in, jolting upwards. The blade _nearly_ split Kazuki's face by a fraction of an inch. Though it did not divert his gun's direction, the small chunk of concrete spurting out simultaneously with the Beast Sword _did_. "Whoa!" Veemon lost his balance, dragged by the sword when it went up over his head and landed behind him.

"D-Modify!" Lightning embraced his arm. "ELECTRIC FIST!" Veemon ducked, making a swipe at Kazuki's legs. He hopped, firing orbs of energy down.

The Chosen sidestepped, slashing upwards with an accruing proficiency. He was getting used to the weapon. Kazuki undid the catch. _I should've done this sooner! _"D-Modify!" Blue lines spun around his right arm, elongating and reinforcing the frame clutching his digivice, allowing him to parry the blade with his modified armguard. Readjusting his aim, he opened fire. Veemon reeled, dragged by the Beast Sword, almost losing his grip. Luckily he managed to grab hold of it in an ice-pick grip and, knocking the gun up with his _head_, pounded Kazuki's side with the pommel. "Take this!"

_He could've cut me in half! _observed Kazuki. _But he __**didn't**__. He doesn't want to kill? _He smirked. _How childish!_ He defended himself with the rifle and, with his free hand, reached for the combat knife on his waist. Swinging his arm forward, he tried to slit the blue dragon's neck. Veemon stepped back. Close call for him.

The Chosen leaped, aiming for his body. "VEE HEADBUTT!" Caught by surprise, Kazuki received the full attack, knocking the dagger off his hands. The Modifier planted his foot on the floor, counteracting Veemon's momentum. He coughed from the pressure, spitting blood on the monster setting itself down. The sputum landed right on the eyes.

"Eeeeeeee**yuck**!" The lizard wiped the muck off his face. Abusing his disgust, Kazuki swiftly kicked him. Veemon defended against it, though failed to stop the force from pushing him towards the wall. His back collided with it; he landed on his belly and kneeled, rubbing his back. "Oww…"

He blinked, sensing Kazuki's movements. With dilating eyes he stared straight into the green glow of the whining rifle. Without warning, the rifle's hum died down, and the said weapon fell from the Modifier's grip. Something hit the back of his vest, erupting into hot, searing pain. He staggered from the thunderous explosion, ears registering nothing but static.

* * *

Haseo opened fire on Stingmon first, failing to make a hit. Hearing gunfire burst from behind, he shifted sideways, feeling a bullet graze his skin. Grunting, he turned back and pulled the trigger. Commandramon pounced on him, swiping the gun away with his right hand, bringing down the other. "STRIKE CLAW!"

The Modifier moved with alacrity. The dinosaur's claws damaged the upper right area of the combat vest, partially neutering its usefulness. Stingmon approached from behind, attempting to punch Haseo in the face. Haseo shuffled laterally, and aimed the gun at the Chosen.

Commandramon would have none of that. Lowering the Beretta, he made a move for the FN SCAR, grabbing its barrel. _This effing reptile…! _Commandramon's enormous strength was enough to wrench the gun away. He automatically reoriented the stolen weapon towards its former owner.

Haseo undid the catch. "D-Modify!" He snatched the gun, maintaining a good grip on its barrel as well as attempting to peel Commandramon's fingers from the handle, with little success. They moved, pressing the trigger. The Modifier turned the barrel away, evading the gunfire as he landed a punch on the digimon, who saw it coming, and twisted in response.

* * *

Stingmon couldn't help but ruminate on the attack the Modifier had just used. _Fire Rocket? Why does __**that **__sound so familiar? _

He shelved the thought. Two humans threatened his life, Veemon's, and Commandramon's. Leomon was probably dead. The two soldiers were strong, formidable, unlike the humans he faced in the past. Stingmon had seen the digivices they employed without hesitation, and without mercy, acting just as Commandramon described the previous night.

He snuck up on the Modifier, hoping to knock him out, but he detected the move, shuffling, retaliating with his rifle, only to have it disarmed by Commandramon. The soldier responded by clinging on his gun and activating his digivice. Commandramon ducked as the man countered his attempt to gun him down, avoiding the punch and expanded his maw for a quick bite. Stingmon noticed the bullets were once again given their explosive volatility. _He's __**using **__Commandramon!_

Their opponent retracted his arm and elbowed the dinosaur's snout. The Digimon of Kindness, realizing his plan, made a swipe at the human. He missed, catching him reel along Commandramon, taking advantage of his slight paralysis. Embracing the military dinosaur, he tightened his hold and, clasping the reptile's hands, indirectly pulled the trigger. The rifle flailed, spreading its coverage.

Flight was the Chosen's only escape, but his wings were charred. Clipped, he had no choice but to dance in the corridor in a desperate attempt to escape unscathed. "The room" was an option, but with his speed drastically decreased, exercising it was highly unlikely.

He braced himself. Bullets rained on Stingmon, exploding all over, hiding the Chosen in a cloud of smoke. His armor was being chipped little by little. Unprotected areas bore holes in his body, releasing mushy, green blood on the floor. The pressure of every single blast compounded, shoving him backwards. All the while he heard a pained cry coming from the other battle behind him, and it did _not_ sound like Veemon.

The hail stopped, and Stingmon was given a brief respite. "Lord Stingmon!" he heard Commandramon holler. "Are you okay?"

* * *

Commandramon reared his head, smacking Haseo's chest with his helmet. It knocked him back after two strikes. With the pressure relinquished, he ceased the gunfire and called over to the cloud of smoke. "Lord Stingmon! Are you okay?"

Any reply from the Digimon of Kindness would go unheard. Commandramon had to contend with the soldier's 45° kick. He blocked the attack with the FN SCAR, and opened fire with his Beretta. The Modifier slammed his arm into Commandramon's and rotated it, redirecting the dinosaur's aim. Simultaneously he reached down and grabbed _his_ sidearm, an HK USP Compact Tactical, training it on him, pulling the trigger as soon as possible. The military dinosaur stepped back, avoiding the first two shots. He blocked the man's arm with his free one.

_He's good_, noted Commandramon. There was no reason to deny his proficiency in close combat. Commandramon suddenly dropped and tried a sweep kick. _How about this? _It _worked_, brushing the man off his feet. As he fell, the military dinosaur aimed his Beretta and opened fire. Gunshots burst from the HK USP in a divestiture attempt, but Commandramon held a tight grip on his weapon and simply felt his gun jolt violently.

* * *

Stingmon, though weak, ran towards the fallen Modifier, who was able to divert Commandramon's aim. The soldier stowed his USP away, grabbed the dinosaur's legs, and pulled, setting him up for a fall. He rose, glimpsing Stingmon prepare his signature attack.

Commandramon slammed into the wound on his abdomen, pushing him back, making him keel. The Modifier reacted by snatching the fallen dinosaur before he could even see what was happening. He rotated in place, swinging Commandramon round and round. Two magazine clips flew from the digimon's pockets, bouncing off the Chosen's helmet.

After three rotations, he released the military dinosaur, sending him careening into the concrete wall near the large, open stairwell they had descended hours earlier. He intended to finish off Stingmon's comrade with a quick headshot. "No you don't!" yelled the Digimon of Kindness. "SPIKING FINISH!"

* * *

"Effing… bastard!" Christopher panted agonizingly, reprieve granted when Aldo's rifle overheated. Kneeling on the floor, tears fell from his eyes. Legs were tainted crimson. Blood seeped out. Most of the skin had been burnt off. He glared angrily at Aldo, rising with some difficulty. The pain made his legs quiver like jelly for a moment before he forced them steady.

"What an **idiot**!" laughed Aldo. "I can't believe you FELL FOR IT! As if I'd aim for your armor! You're not so high and mighty, eh? Not without that sword of yours, fool!"

"I still have my gauntlet!" Chris yelled, breaking into a dash, his speed reduced.

"Ha!" the Modifier sneered. "Like you can block it all!" He skipped back and pulled the second trigger, launching æther in moments. Christopher blocked the few whizzing towards his torso and legs, jumping to evade the rest, only to gasp upon landing. The pain was terrible, difficult to endure, but Aldo held no sympathy for him. "You're even dumber than that lizard!" he mocked, referring to Veemon. "Look at you! You've got a gun right there on your waist!" Chris, near, attempted to punch him, but Aldo made a circular movement with his arm and successfully averted any danger from his inhuman strength. "But **YOU'RE NOT USING IT**!" Kikuchi leaped away, undoing the catch. "D-Modify!" Whipping an arm blanketed with fire, he launched three fireballs. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

Chris took the hits, receiving negligible damage, only to find Aldo's whining gun directed to his face. "At least that lizard knows when to use his weapons," he uttered, sending out plenty of æther.

"You know nothing about me!" he snarled, rolling underneath the gunfire, his path to Aldo unaltered. He threw a solid punch at the Modifier, who circumvented the attack and let Chris pass, turning 180° to fire. Chris jumped, lifting his legs until they ran parallel to the ground. Ignoring the pain, enduring it, and rebounding from the wall with an extended fist, "Nothing!"

"Pffffwahahahahaha!" Aldo deflected the attack. He shot several spheres, effectively barring Chris's approach.

Chris sprinted towards the Modifier as fast as his legs could in their current state, chucking a large piece of concrete at him. "I won't need it if it's just you!"

"Your arrogance will kill you, fool!" He intercepted the projectile, destroying it with his fist. Chris, as expected, followed the lump's shadow, leaping to execute an aerial 360° kick. Aldo kept his gun trained, holding the second trigger, letting the attack hit his side while his rifle simultaneously released æther, all careening towards Christopher.

The orbs exploded, blowing the man away. Aldo smirked at the sight of Chris defiantly rising. "You'll never hit me. Not without your sword. Not unless you use that gun of yours."

Christopher leered. "We'll see about that."

_Activate._

A cerulean glow swathed his goldenrod eyes. The R-Scanner revealed the menu before them and them alone, and Chris saw his intended option available for use. _Expanded Map. _It enlarged the small map in the bottom right of the screen, filling it up. Chris could see the schematics of the entire compound, but he wanted to see everything going on in his battle with the scout. _Zoom in and center on me. _The map focused on Christopher, zooming in until only a portion of the 2nd floor could be seen, fixed on his position. The schematics were remarkably updated real-time, showing even the new openings Aldo and Chris made during their fierce battle. Representing Chris was a golden arrow at the very center, slightly resembling a V. _Apply filters: Humans, Digimon, C-Grade Æther. _Six other arrows appeared on the map. Three of them were dark blue, one right in front of Chris's. The other two were farther in a corridor and a corner. One was engaged with an arrow just as golden as Chris's icon. The other, with two: green and orange. Glimpsing the legend on a menu sidebar, he was surprised to see the other golden arrow assigned to Veemon. _Not bright blue? That's the first time the R-Scanner gave someone else the same color as mine. How odd…_

"Heh. So that's it? _Standing_?" interrupted Aldo, the grip on his weapon relaxed. "Don't be stupid." He sounded amused.

Chris gazed at Aldo through the translucent user interface. _You're the fool here. _"I was just getting ready."

He bent down, taking another piece of rubble. Taking a deep breath, he charged.

* * *

Slightly startled, the Digimon of Miracles stood, lifting the Beast Sword. Kazuki staggered from the sudden explosion, distracted, possibly weakened. It was Veemon's only chance, and it was one he exploited well. Taking three steps forward he swung the sword, feeling its weight pull him closer towards the Modifier, feeling the blade slice through his combat vest and skin, opening him up. Less than a second passed when blood effused out of the large wound, some of it spattering on Veemon, who was already covered in blood.

Kazuki went down, bleeding terribly even with the blue lines caressing his body. Veemon dropped, pounding the sword into the concrete, leaning on it for support. He felt like vomiting. It wasn't hemophobia. It was the strike itself. Compared to pumping bullets into limbs, this was the worst he'd ever done to a human.

_Calm down, Veemon. Calm down. It's okay…_

He trembled.

_It's okay, Veemon. Look at him! He's being healed already. He'll be alright. He won't die._

Veemon gulped, swallowing the cold chill descending his spine. He sauntered to Kazuki and kicked his fearful weapon away.

"LORD STINGMON! GET BACK!"

Ears perked, he turned towards the other battle.

* * *

The melee between Stingmon and Haseo was ferocious. The moment Stingmon attempted to pierce his chest, Haseo flexed, moving parallel to the strike. Stingmon's purple blade grazed him, yet failed to deter his counterattack. Commandramon watched him shove the Digimon of Kindness back with a strong blow. Seconds passed, and Stingmon's movements became sluggish. Each hit the green insect received compounded their gradual approach to defeat. The Modifier's hand inched to his holstered sidearm. He shut his eyes, digging into his pocket. _Please let this work. _Commandramon held his last grenade, completely unarmed. _For Lord Stingmon. _He flipped the switch. _For Lord Veemon. _Lifting his arm, _for everyone they murdered!_

"LORD STINGMON!" He bent back, readying his pitch. "GET BACK!"

Stingmon heard and complied, skipping back. Haseo heard this request as well, reacting immediately to the situation. Despite Stingmon's attempts to hinder his counterstrike, the soldier managed to pin the insect's arm beneath his torso and reached for his combat knife, throwing it at Commandramon's arm, pinning it to the wall before the grenade could even leave his hands. "DCD—urgh!"

Haseo fired a single round from the HK USP, aiming at the grenade. It exploded, engulfing Commandramon in smoke just as the concrete floor beneath gave way. The last thing he saw was Haseo dropping the weapon, receiving a blow on the back. Commandramon fell, landing ten feet down with a thud. Losing consciousness, defeated, he choked bitterly. _Lord Veemon, Lord Stingmon, I'm, I'm sorry…_

* * *

Christopher evaded the æther when they came, closing the distance between Sgt. Aldo and himself. The scout applied centrifugal force to parry the man's fist, moving swiftly past his back, heading for the center of the room. Yet Chris somehow _knew_ where he was going. One look behind was enough to catch his opponent's fist hitting him squarely between the eyes, knocking Kikuchi off his feet. _How did he—?_

Aldo went _through_ the lone door in the middle of the room, emerging in the hallway. Chris tore after him even as æther burst from his rifle. He came close, smashing the wall with a fierce knee jab that would've gotten Aldo seriously hurt if it wasn't for a well-timed sidestep. Kikuchi swung sideward, opening fire. Despite the fact Chris was looking straight into the room behind the wall he just damaged, he ducked as if he _saw _the æther coming, thumping Aldo's chest with the gauntlet.

He was pushed back. Undeterred, the Modifier grabbed Chris's punching arm, lifting it up as he thrust his rifle forcibly on his chest, shrilling. "Ugh!" Chris recoiled from the strike, but managed to shove the gun leftward, its projectiles vaporizing small holes in the concrete. Aldo exploited the momentum to revolve and smack Christopher with a blazing right forearm. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

Knuckles met Chris's head, driving him **through** the concrete resoundingly. Aldo wasn't finished. Still reeling from the added momentum he turned right and fired more orbs of light after him. A second _explosion_ confirmed success.

Peeking in, he found Chris in an infirmary with his abdomen slightly red, shielded by the indestructible gauntlet. Blood trickled down his face. Aldo then discovered an azure sheen covering his goldenrod eyes. They weren't like that earlier. Was this related to Christopher's sudden clairvoyance? Aldo found a pair of double doors behind the man. _Let's see if I'm right_, he mused, following the corridor. Really, it paid to be observant.

* * *

Haseo was shoved forward, combat vest damaged by the attack. He glanced to see Stingmon attempting a direct hit to the head, one that would certainly knock him out. A gap formed underneath the insect's legs. Remembering Veemon, he slid below Stingmon and slipped past his attack, flipping over when he slowed down just beside his FN SCAR. Finding a gap underneath his legs the Modifier dropped, sliding below Stingmon. He slowed close to his rifle, dropped by Commandramon when Haseo threw him to the wall.

Retrieving the weapon, he stood, cocked the grenade launcher and undid the catch. "D-Modify!"

* * *

Veemon watched Haseo thwart Commandramon's last attack. Watching his own grenade engulfing the military dinosaur, he ran towards the battle as Haseo performed his trick, coming up behind Stingmon in a fraction of a second. The Modifier snatched his rifle back. "D-Modify! FIRE ROC—!"

_You're not getting Stingmon, too! _"No you don't!" With a ferocious roar he came on Haseo without warning and sliced the FN SCAR in two before he could pull the trigger. Veemon saw the Modifier stagger backwards. "Stingmon, let's go!" He bent his legs. "VEE HEADBUTT!"

"Right!" Stingmon followed his lead. "SPIKING FINISH!"

* * *

Haseo shifted sideways to avoid the headbutt, only to find the purple saber approaching, fast. Haseo was fixed to his spot. No time. Sudden whining filled the air, and Stingmon veered away, vaulting over him in a quick somersault. He found Kazuki routing the Digimon of Kindness's offensive, sparing him from defeat. _Sweet._

Meanwhile, the Digimon of Miracles sprinted towards him. Eyeing the HK USP Compact Tactical on the floor, Haseo turned around and ran for it. Three steps. Two. One. He bowed at the waist, taking it from the floor. Swiveling 180° he aimed the gun at the Chosen.

_Die, lizard, _grinned Haseo, pulling the trigger with the gun inches before Veemon's face. A bright light caught his attention. Two orbs of energy from the other battle rushed towards them. Veemon saw them coming, stepping to the right. Haseo wasn't so lucky. His attempt to dodge ended badly, almost losing his hand to the second orb if he didn't let go of his sidearm in time. The close call startled the Modifier, rooting him in place, completely astonished.

Haseo returned to reality when he felt a sharp pain rising from his side. He found the Beast Sword entrenched into his side, penetrating the combat vest. Veemon twisted the blade constantly, sustaining the agony, not to mention wasting his scarce digital energy.

"**Goddammit!**" Haseo cursed, grabbing the blue dragon by the wrists, lifting him up. He held him so tight Veemon **had** to relinquish the sword. "My turn for a headbutt!" Haseo's forehead collided with the digimon's jaw. He backpedaled shakily when he landed, completely stunned.

The Modifier seized the Beast Sword. "Now you're mine!" He thrust, slicing through Veemon's cheek. He turned the sword, and panned left. The digimon crouched, flinching when the blade chafed one of his ears.

"Take this!" Veemon jumped and slammed his fist into Haseo's gut. It was strong enough to cause great bodily harm.

Haseo smirked, his digivice glowing. "Sorry, but I was prepared for this." Veemon's strike couldn't do anything against the modified vest, much to his shock.

The Chosen gasped when Haseo grabbed **both** his arms in one snatch and raised him. Finding Kazuki bested by Stingmon's residual agility and strength he repaid his comrade by tossing Veemon towards the Digimon of Kindness.

* * *

Stingmon flew past Haseo after witnessing his comrade get up from the floor, retrieve his gun, and pull the trigger. He somersaulted, landing right beside him and swiped the weapon off his hands just as two orbs of light escaped. "SPIKING FINISH!"

Kazuki deflected the attack, jabbing the insect's damaged midsection with his knee before tackling him down. As they fell, Stingmon retracted his legs and, placing them on the Modifier's chest, tossed him into the air as he flipped upward, slamming Kazuki back to the ground with a fierce axe kick.

Stingmon summoned his energy saber and plunged it downward, into Kazuki's abdomen. Before he could do so the man's digivice shone. Simultaneously a hand was set aflame. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" Three large fireballs shot out, exploding, forcing Stingmon back.

The Modifier recovered, switching to offense. The green insect held his ground and fought back, engaging in close combat. Stingmon hurled a punch. Kazuki blocked and countered with a fiery uppercut. He stepped back, retaliating with a fierce roundhouse. His opponent bent over, failing to see Stingmon follow it up with an elbow smash reinforced by the insect's alacrity. The Digimon of Kindness watched Kazuki stumble backwards. _Time to finish this! _He eyed the man's left arm. "SPIKING FINI—!"

Without warning, Veemon crashed into his back. Stingmon lurched, spotting Kazuki with his fist engulfed in sparks. "ELECTRIC FIST!" The two digimon were paralyzed, flying in the air as they careened along the hallway. Stingmon could barely make out Haseo waiting for them with the Beast Sword. _I can't die! No, I can't! Ken needs me! I can't leave him just yet!_

_Must, move! _Stingmon struggled to move, but his body wouldn't respond, shut down by the attack he and the blue dragon just received. _No…_

* * *

Christopher gasped for breath in the Clinic, reveling in his much-needed rest. Using the map as a tool in battle was extremely difficult, since it required equal concentration on both the map and the ongoing fight. Chris could manage, thankfully, refined by constant use in throughout his journey.

Aldo's arrow moved away from the hole that was just made, heading deeper into the hallway leading to the Clinic. _What's he doing? _Chris paid attention to the other golden arrow, seeing it right next to a human's. _I hope Vee's okay on his own. _He blessed the green arrow with a passing glance when yellow-green circles appeared on the map, rushing to Chris's position from the double doors.

He bounced back, retreating, and turned his head towards the doors, now open. He stared at Aldo, whose visage was rather smug. "Just what are you trying to pull?"

* * *

"I ought to tell you," Aldo answered, entering the Clinic. "I'm a scout. A master observer-analyst." He laughed. "I've been watching you very closely."

Chris cocked an eyebrow.

"While I was in that hallway, I was thinking. Back when I saw you with that lizard. I pondered on how you protect him, putting your life at risk for him. Returning kindness with kindness: that's **why **you're fighting me, right?

"But that's what you _said_. I **think **you lied, asshole. Straight to my face. You're not answering to any obligation. You consider that Veemon a friend, don't you?"

"No!" Chris responded. "I told you, I'm not involved! I don't give a damn about—"

Aldo ignored him, to Chris's anger. "It's **sooooo** obvious in the way you fight, _which_ I find very interesting."

"A sword that generates winds with each slash. An indestructible gauntlet. Intimate knowledge on this, this æther shit. You're so **full** of surprises. _Now_ you can even see me and my attacks without a glance!" He laughed once more. "Boy, you're really testing my skills here!"

Sgt. Kikuchi's face turned somber. "But you're a threat. A major one."

Once a person began seeing digimon as anything beyond the level of an object or mere animal, sooner or later that person will adhere to a ludicrous philosophy mandating their equality with humanity. How could digimon equal humans? They were borne from artificial data, from the blood, sweat, and tears of _human_ programmers and developers. Their destiny was nothing but absolute subservience to Man! Either that, or total annihiliation. It couldn't be one or the other, however much Aldo preferred the latter.

Chris was slowly internalizing this irreversible delusion, though he wouldn't admit it himself. Aldo gripped his rifle. "You have to die."

* * *

The scout charged, firing away. Chris ran to the side, jumping over the beds. Aldo caught up to him, slashing the gun down as if it was a sword, all while pressing the trigger every few seconds. Æther shot out intermittently. The close distance made it difficult to maneuver evasively. Aldo's big grin clearly denoted the results of his analysis.

_He's figured me out! _He grabbed one of the beds by the frame and hurled it at Aldo, only for the æther to vaporize it. The scout whipped Chris's head with his gun and slammed his body into Chris's, pushing him back. Aldo stabbed him with his gun, firing the trigger even when the Scanner blocked its barrel.

The resulting explosion blew Chris through the wall, out into the hallway. He flew past Kazuki, landing on the floor. Using his momentum to get up, Chris found Aldo leaping after him, legs strengthened by blue lines. _No choice! Assault mode!_ The Scanner didn't respond; Aldo prepared to fire æther.

Desperate, Chris raised the Scanner. _Display. _The Scanner's gemstone shone, as the machine processed his request to display the map and all those arrows. He smirked when Aldo ceased his attack and, upon landing, skipped back, anticipating some counterstrike. _Gotcha. _"You're not getting away!"

He seized Aldo's gun and tugged. The Modifier, tightening his clutch, flew with it. An idea came. Chris revolved the weapon and hammered it down with all the strength he could muster. Aldo followed, smashing into the floor. The man coughed up blood just as the concrete broke. They fell into the Mess Hall below.

* * *

Haseo was ready to kill Stingmon and Veemon with one slash, having modified the Beast Sword's sharpness. Just when he was about to swing, the wall behind Kazuki fell apart thunderously. The man Aldo fought flew towards him, recovering, driving the scout back with _something_ and, abusing intricate movements, slammed his team leader into the floor.

"ALDO!" cried Kazuki, running towards the hole. Haseo, just as shocked, let both Chosen fly past him and sauntered towards Kazuki. Was the sergeant still alive? Or was he just killed?

"Kazuki, what just happened?"

"I-I don't know. But Aldo needs help." He approached the hole. So did Haseo, until Kazuki stopped him. "You stay here, Haseo. You still need to finish off the Chosen."

"What about you?"

He picked up his black rifle. "Energy weapons can hurt him, so I'm covered. Just focus on your orders, Haseo."

"How much energy do you have left? I got 18%."

"Only 14%. Not much."

"Then let me—"

"No. Go do your job. It's more practical that way." He smirked. "Besides, you'll earn more money by killing those two."

Haseo nodded, observing Kazuki's descent, pursuing Aldo and Christopher. _Roger that._

* * *

"Uuugghh, what just happened?" Stingmon sat up. Veemon groaned beside him, but he too was recovering. "I thought we're done for…"

"C-Christopher," Veemon coughed. The insect looked at the two Modifiers loitering near a large hole. Did Chris really cause that? He _did_ hear his voice. But did he do it to save them?

"...I don't think he meant it."

"Doesn't matter," shrugged Veemon.

Stingmon glanced down at him. "Do you still think he's innocent, after all this? Circumstantial evidence is against him."

Veemon responded affirmatively, nodding. "We barely know each other and he's risking his life for me! Daisuke never did that until he got the Digimental of Friendship, don't you remember?" He sighed at the distant memory. "But, you get my point... do you?"

"Sounds reasonable," Stingmon remarked. "Then, I can, assume he's fighting for us?"

Veemon was silent, eyes glued to the hallway. Haseo approached them menacingly, undoing the catch on his digivice. "D-Modify! LIGHTNING BLADE."

The Beast Sword was irradiated in a golden light. Yellow sparks of lightning flowed fluidly all around it. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" Simultaneously, his arms were coated in orange fire, flickering so deceivingly one wouldn't know a single hit would cause an explosion.

_Lightning Blade, Knuckle Fire. Then there were Fire Rocket, Electric Fist, and Blue Thunder. _Each name conjured an ominous familiarity. "Veemon," nervously accosted the Digimon of Kindness, "does that sound familiar to you?"

He blinked. Obviously it was the **last** thing on his mind. _Typical Veemon._ "'Familiar'? Stingmon, what—?"

"Enough talking, you two," Haseo interrupted, stepping towards them with malice. The intent to kill was so strong Stingmon could feel it. "This ends **now**!"

* * *

Aldo escaped certain death by attacking Chris as he fell, blowing him away with æther before he could block. He scrambled towards the other side of the Mess Hall, as _far away_ from Christopher as he could. He needed to rest, to plan his strategy. But what did Chris do to him? Something came out of his Scanner, yet he escaped unscathed. In fact, he wouldn't have been hurt if he didn't jump away. Was it all a ploy? Deception?

Christopher wouldn't let him exploit this brief ceasefire. He dashed to Aldo immediately, soaring over the tables and benches. _Damn it! _He moved. Severe back pain floored him. _It's not healed yet! _Aldo watched Chris close in. He leaped, about to strike. Kikuchi raised the gun and opened fire.

His opponent dodged the blasts of æther, appearing beside him. Chris punched Aldo and grabbed him by the collar. "Now tell me **everything**," he hissed. "Who gave you æther technology?"

"Screw you."

He frowned, about to pummel the scout with his fists. An explosion from the side sent Chris careening through one of the pillars. Aldo surveyed the Mess Hall, finding Kazuki in the middle of the room. His comrade ambled to his position, helping him up as the digital energy began healing his spinal injury. _Finally! _"You alright, sir?"

Aldo spat out blood. "Never better, Kazuki. Thanks for covering me."

"No problem. How much energy do you have now?"

He glanced at his digivice. "12, no, 10.5%. This bastard's a tough one. Very unpredictable, too. We **mustn't** let him loose outside. He'll jeopardize the mission."

"I got 14% left," Kazuki muttered. "Can we still do it?"

"Hell yeah," Aldo retorted, "now that I got you." Chris bounded towards them. "Kazuki, head over there! We'll cover each other!"

"Acknowledged."

Chris dodged the æther from Aldo's weapon, closing in to throw an attack or two. Near enough to inspect the blue sheen covering his goldenrod eyes, Aldo discerned something that looked like the _blueprints_ for the Mess Hall, with three colored triangles inside it. _A map? __**That**__'s how he's been tracking me?_ Christopher leaped away, repelled by lime æther that flew inches in front of Aldo.

"Enough tricks!" Gunfire erupted from his rifle. With Kazuki covering him, it was impossible to narrow the gap between them and successfully attack without getting hurt, or worse. Chris continued to evade, until Aldo appeared beside him and kicked him towards the other side. "Kazuki, let's finish this!"

"Yes, sir!" Both Kazuki and Aldo pulled the second trigger. Lime orbs of energy shot out of the barrels, approaching a groaning Christopher from two different angles. Death was sure to come quick and fast. Victory was theirs. _We won._

.

Aldo concluded too soon. The lime orbs were _consumed_ by slightly larger ones **pale green** in color, preceded by brief high-pitched sounds. These new projectiles shrunk accordingly, yet maintained their velocity towards both Modifiers.

The scout jumped out of the way, as did his comrade. He watched these spheres collide into the wall behind them. They _vaporized_ parts of the wall, creating clean holes disproportionate to their current size. _Æther! _Behind each opening was a giant window that displayed prominently the events occurring outside.

Aldo stared at Christopher, beholding the silver handgun in his hands. A pale green core could be seen through an opening on the side of his gun. It had a single trigger._ We're in trouble.  
_

.

.

.

_Veemon and Stingmon, exhausted and injured, find a foreboding familiarity to Haseo's modifications, while Christopher responds to his new situation with his gun, a device fueled by æther_ _similar to yet starkly different from Aldo's and Kazuki's rifles. Is this the link that binds Chris to the war? Will Veemon and Stingmon escape their battle with minimal damage? How will the Modifiers react to this new development? Next, on _The Interloper_, the conclusion of the Command Center battle, and a fierce counterattack in the Satellite Base!_

* * *

Author's Notes:

[5] Æther: Energy that can be found anywhere, existing in extremely minute particles. When harnessed, it is very powerful and offers unequaled destructive power. It cleanly obliterates anything it touches. Those who are exposed to it for a long time eventually develop a natural resistance to it (manifested as a searing explosion when they get hit), as well as enhanced physical abilities, albeit rarely. It explains Christopher's unnatural fighting ability... _so far_. There are three grades for æther: C, B, and A. Higher rank obviously means more power, but by how much is the question, as the measurement is similar to the Richter scale for earthquakes. C-grade æther are identified with lime (yellow-green). B-grades are identified with pale green. A-grade, which we will **never **see in _the Interloper_, is a signature bright green. Christopher's gun uses B-Grade æther.

Whenever two different classes of æther meet, the higher grade **consumes** the lower, but as a result, an amount of the higher grade is subtracted. If you want to put it in simpler terms, look up the "Trample" rule for magic. You deal 5 damage to a monster with 3 DEF. 2 ends up hitting the player. The same result happens. That also means that the holes made at the end of this chapter would've been bigger if they weren't eaten up by Aldo and Kazuki's C-grades. If a C-grade meets another C-grade, the two will cancel each other out.

[6] It may take me more than a month to write chapter six. Planning is extremely difficult because of all the parties involved! (Chris, V-Mon, Stingmon, Commandramon, Aldo, Kazuki, Haseo, Lucille, Reeves, and the "unnamed" combatants of both digimon and human sides.) It's even more difficult to note that everything would be happening **simultaneously**. Weee~~~ (At the very least, this is _one less chapter_ before it's time to move on to the 2nd story arc :D)

5 Dec 2009 edit: added 7th author's note, containing my responses to reviews for this chapter:

**Lord Pata**: Stingmon's been through quite a lot when it comes to trust issues. As a partner to Ken, I'd imagine him to be the voice of reason imbued with some emotion, so I think he is quite logical to a high degree (though not as high as Ken's, seeing as how he stuck to him despite his time as the Kaiser). Seeing as how all evidence was against Christopher, it's easy to deduce Chris as the main architect of the Midnight Assault and therefore levy suspicion and wariness at him. In contrast, V-Mon witnessed Chris's efforts to preserve his life, and that countered any circumstantial evidence, hence cementing trust in someone he barely knows.

**Dameus**: Thanks. I can only hope I can produce same quality chapters faster than 3 weeks at a time. . Anyway, Daisuke Motomiya has a profound influence on the storyline and it is therefore impossible for me to take him out. The thing is, Daisuke appears *really late* in the plot despite having a central role in the story. I can't put him in the main characters roster along with V-Mon for that reason alone. At any rate, _The Interloper_'s story hasn't significantly changed at all, though I'm constantly re-examining my files to clean out stupid plotholes. I take quality very seriously, even if I'm making chapters just for fun. :)


	6. Teamwork

Author's notes:

[1] MS Office Word count: 17680 approx. With this, _The Interloper_ has reached a total **78,837** words by this chapter (a 6CH AVG of 13.14K, compared to the 5CH AVG of 12.2K). Chapter 6 may have been the longest I've ever made so far, but please realize that the _first 7,000_ were spent on finishing the Command Center battle and its transition to the chapter's main focus.

[2] Some military terms you may need to know: CQC (Close Quarters Combat), LKP (Last Known Position), AO (Area of Responsibility)

[3] Recommended music to listen to: BOF Dragon Quarter's _Maddening Spirit_ (for the 2nd half of the Comm Center battle)_, _and FF VIII's _The Landing_ (for the Satellite Base scenes, including what will be shown on Chapter 7).

[4] Enjoy the chapter! Glad to have made this before the New Year yeehaw!

[5] BTW, if you have any comments/reviews, please don't hesitate to lay it on me! Constructive criticism is **always** welcome, since I always aim to improve the quality of my work. ^^ Now if you have any remarks regarding the way I depict the canon characters, I highly encourage you to give me your opinion, as I seek to emulate the feeling that what you're reading can be fully imagined as happening in canon.

* * *

Commandramon's Beretta caught Veemon's attention. He picked it up from the floor, releasing its magazine: seven bullets left. He pushed it back in and and released the magazine within. Seven bullets were left. He pushed it back in and got the two clips left on the floor, pocketing them in his utility belt.

"Veemon." A heavy anxiety carried Stingmon's voice. "Does that sound familiar to you?" he asked, referring to Haseo's crimson flames dancing robustly around his arms, to the lightning enveloping the Beast Sword.

Veemon blinked. "'Familiar'?"_Never heard him say anything like that. _"Stingmon, what—"

"Enough talking, you two." Haseo interrupted the Chosen's query, ambling forward. The glare emanating from his eyes was terrible. "This ends **now**!" He launched himself upon the last word. The blue dragon raised the Beretta, firing thrice. Haseo moved back and forth, improving evasion. Bullets merely grazed his skin; he responded with four fireballs flying from his hands, all focused on Veemon, who leaped out of harm's way. "You're first, lizard!"

Stingmon attacked from the side. "SPIKING FINISH!" Haseo ducked and slammed the insect with his thick arm. A subsequent explosion knocked Stingmon to the wall.

"Stingmon!" Veemon shot the man, who dodged it rolling. He continued his attack, shooting twice as Haseo leaped during his rise and slashed the air, dispatching a pillar of lightning straight at Veemon. _Wah!_ He sidestepped the golden wave, pulling the trigger twice before hearing a notable 'click'. Backpedaling, Veemon fumbled his belt for a magazine, his heart pounding urgently. _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!_ His clawed fingers released the empty clip; the Beast Sword entered his vision. He crouched while snatching the full clip, **narrowly** avoiding decapitation. Veemon slammed the magazine into the Beretta and cocked it. _Yes!_

He sprung as strongly and quickly as possible, striking the man's combat vest. "VEE HEADBUTT!" Haseo was knocked back. Veemon bounced back from the blow, aiming down the Beretta's sight as he landed, targeting both legs. He gunned Haseo without hesitation, but so focused was the Chosen he didn't notice him whip his flaming arm, producing a large ball of fire that walloped Veemon back a few feet, charring his front. "Agh!"

* * *

_I didn't want this._

Christopher watched both soldiers take cover behind the concrete pillars, exercising caution as they peeked at him and his gun. Their cover was almost useless: a one-time shield against Chris's æther gun.

He shook his head. He was _never_ supposed to use **any** of his weapons; if ever, it should've been the DITE, and that alone. Those men shouldn't possess æther technology! Yet they had it, and they _had_ to be well-trained soldiers. There was just no other option. Chris's gun ran on a B-grade æther core, a notch higher than the inferior C-grades theirs had. But he couldn't risk reacquiring his dependency on it. Not again. Unfortunately the situation called for—necessitated—it. Though the R-Scanner's map may have neutered Aldo's range advantage, Kazuki's interference negated this benefit. _I didn't want this! _More æther burst from the Modifiers.

Christopher somersaulted back. His legs wobbled when he stood his ground. The damage incurred back on the second level was getting to him. He shook his head; he _must_ endure. Kicking the table, it flew into the air towards Aldo, absorbing his blasts of energy. Simultaneously, Chris aimed his gun at Kazuki, firing. Each pull on the trigger produced a high-pitched whine concurrent with one æther blast. The pale green orbs hurled themselves towards Kazuki, swallowing the lime æther along the way.

The Modifier darted from his cover, which was vaporized shortly. He made his way to Chris's right, albeit a good distance from him. The map showed Aldo's cursor still behind cover. Just what were they planning?

* * *

Aldo held fingers to his earpiece. "Kazuki, he's tracking our every move real-time. Engage Chris, CQC. I'll provide cover fire!" It was reasonable: though having two firing angles, the æther from Chris's gun was inexplicably stronger than theirs. Perfectly semi-automatic, it was enough to defend against two vantage points. Going melee would definitely decrease his countershots. The best candidate for this was Kazuki, whose digivice had 14% power. _9.9% left_, Aldo read his own. 0.6% was deducted for maintaining all outstanding modifications.

Kazuki closed in. "ELECTRIC FIST!" Aldo pulled the trigger, wondering why Chris used his gun just now. Had he used it earlier, all three Modifiers would've been killed, or seriously injured at least.

Well, Aldo needn't fret over this once the man's dead. Chris eluded Kazuki's attack, retaliating with a hammer strike. The Modifier raised his arms and blocked, receiving its full force, sliding back. Unfinished, he hurled a low uppercut from the other arm when loud whining erupted from Aldo's rifle.

About twelve orbs flew towards him, though Aldo guessed Chris knew _specifically_ how many gushed out. Kazuki jumped away when the noise started, giving Christopher less than moments to react. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" Four fireballs escaped: a calculated distraction.

He swerved left, dodging the fireballs. Only then did he react to Aldo's gunfire. Whether through the map or peripheral vision, Aldo couldn't tell. Despite the awkward stance he was in, Chris swung his gun-toting arm to his back, done at a speed that _amazed _the scout. Firearm trained at the orbs, he fired celadon æther while gyrating to face Aldo.

Strafing _immediately_, he opened fire. Kazuki followed, but moved in the opposite direction. Aldo was certain Kazuki's closer proximity would dilute Christopher's ability to defend.

Aldo Kikuchi was wrong.

* * *

Aldo's cursor bolted from its position, blasting lime æther. Kazuki tore right, doing the same. Recklessly returning Aldo's fire, Chris made a mad dash for Kazuki, moving agilely and blocked his æther with the Scanner. A lime orb or two made contact, but the determined Christopher pushed his endurance to the limit, leaping over a table to cut Kazuki off, firing blasts of energy in all directions at once, then kicking a fallen bench towards him.

The Modifier vaporized the bench. Chris tailgated it, blocking the surplus æther with the R-Scanner, causing them to disperse in small, manageable explosions. Overheating threats forced Kazuki to cease fire, an opening Christopher relished when he grasped him by the collar and hurled the Modifier at Aldo, stabilizing his stance afterwards. He fired multiple times in _their _direction.

* * *

Aldo went prone to avoid the innumerable orbs flying at chest level, essentially pinned in the middle of the Mess Hall. This battle was getting more chaotic by the second!

The gunfire ceased. Aldo looked up to find Kazuki crashing beside him. One glance told him he'd get up shortly… until he gazed back at Chris. Eyes dilated. Aldo's mouth issued curses in muffled rasps. One hand held the rifle, holding the second trigger. The other lifted Kazuki by the uniform. Aldo could _barely_ hold back the inconceivable amount of æther pouring out of Christopher's gun like water! Several questions resonated in his head: How fast was Chris's trigger finger? Why didn't his gun charge-up before firing? **Why wasn't it overheating?**

He threw Kazuki behind a pile of tables and benches, hoping they'd act as temporary cover against stray æther. Searing heat flared in his hand, requiring _constant healing_ by digital energy. Relinquishing the overheated weapon, Aldo leaped out of the way, and not a moment too soon—Christopher's projectiles overwhelmed Aldo's just as he jumped, disintegrating the rifle before it could even fall.

He rose from prone, finding a freshly recovered Kazuki offering his hand. "Too advanced," Aldo admitted.

"Too advanced?"

"Haven't you noticed? No recoil, no pre-fire charge-up, no overheating! Damn thing's like a blaster from Star Wars!"

He glanced at his digivice. "Shit! I'm down to 8.4%. _And_ my gun's gone!"

"I'm at 12%, sir. What're your orders?"

Aldo spat. The winning strategy was obvious: disarm Christopher, and corner him with a combination of æther blasts and melee. But divestiture _wasn't_ easy. Though injured and exhausted, Chris could still put up a good fight, taking modifications to match his combat prowess, a BIG problem considering both Modifiers were low on power. If only Aldo had that new digivice!

"Take an additional 3% from me and give me your rifle. Focus **everything** on _separating_ him from that weapon. I'll provide cover fire."

"Affirmati—"

Aldo stopped him. "Kazuki, do you trust me on this?" He had to ask this question. Aldo was working on instinct now, and he knew his subordinate's life was at stake.

Kazuki undid the catch nonetheless, claiming Aldo a better marksman and strategist than he was. "Whatever you got in mind," he remarked, "I just hope it works." Kazuki placed his free hand on Aldo's digivice. "E-Swap!" The energy counters on both devices appeared prominently on the screens, one decreasing, the other increasing. In a second, Aldo was left with 5.4%; Kazuki, 15.3%. He gave Kikuchi his rifle, unsheathing his combat knife. "I… I don't want to die."

"Understood," acknowledged Aldo. "Now go!" He readied his finger on the second trigger, peeking out of the cover. Christopher had remained still, simply glaring at their direction, wary for the next, final strategy.

"Kazuki," Aldo apprised through his earpiece, "electric attacks work best." He gulped. "And God be with you."

* * *

Stingmon recovered from Haseo's counterattack, and has since then stalked him from behind, intending to deal a critical strike when he least expected it. Seeing the Digimon of Miracles take a hit, however, cut his plan short. "VEEMON!" Stingmon yelled, concern tinging his voice. Veemon wasn't just a comrade. He was a Chosen, and additionally among his closest friends, even among the Twelve. In fact, he was second only to Ken. _This is for Veemon! _Lunging at Haseo, "SPIKING FINISH!"

The Modifier lifted the Beast Sword above the shoulder instantaneously, descending the blade for a well-performed block and sideswiping Stingmon's spike the next moment. _Fast! _Haseo manipulated the kinetic energy, bringing his sword up **and** down, slashing ferociously with the intention of cutting Stingmon in half. The Digimon of Kindness backed off, escaping his effective range, darting sideways to avoid the lightning blade. _Whew! _A mighty kick aimed at Haseo's head was his counter.

Haseo blocked it with his arms, the flames wrapped around it licking Stingmon's leg, melting the armor, burning the soft flesh within. Stingmon endured it and followed through with this attack, forcing Haseo airborne. Veemon, too, had recovered, returning to the fight with a fully-loaded gun, shooting the soldier.

Their opponent slashed the air thrice, sending three waves of lightning at the blue dragon, who dashed sideways. The green insect pursued Haseo as he landed on his feet, striking the Modifier with much alacrity. His first attack hit solid concrete, leaving a small crater on the wall just as his enemy shifted sideways and moved to Stingmon's right, thrusting the Beast Sword at his head.

Stingmon jerked his neck right, feeling the prickling electricity warning him of what'd happen if the glowing blade ever touched him. He cuffed the Modifier with an elbow jab, but Haseo redirected it with his hands and made a grab for Stingmon's open wound on his abdomen. Two gunshots burst from behind Haseo, followed by a resounding click; Veemon had fired at him, aiming for the waist down. Of these two, one struck Haseo's leg, forcing pained howls out the Modifier, stopping his movements. Exploiting this, Stingmon stabbed the staggering Haseo. _It's over! _"SPIKING FINISH!"

* * *

Haseo swayed mitigably, feeling the energy spike slip past his vest. It slithered deep into his torso, coming out of his back. He wheezed; his right lung was punctured. The wounds healed futilely while the bullet in his leg was pushed out by digital energy. He glowered at Stingmon. _I **won't** die._

He grabbed the arm responsible for his injury, holding it so tightly it melted under the flames. _Not here. _Wrist gyrating, the Beast Sword ran through the Adult's arm, cleanly amputating it. As it fell, Haseo drove the weapon deep in Stingmon's shoulder. "NOT NOW!" The Chosen roared in pain, flailing, splashing Haseo, Veemon, and the corridor itself with the green blood pouring out of the stump. His torment was accentuated by the electricity coursing through him. Unflinching, the Modifier grabbed the digimon by the crotch, lifted him up, tossed him airborne, and, moving back momentarily, clouted the insect. The strike and the following explosion were strong enough to blow Stingmon towards the stairwell, almost _shooting him through _the hole Commandramon made minutes earlier.

Haseo was disappointed to see the Digimon of Kindness emit a bright, green light, which dispersed to reveal a small, beryl caterpillar groaning in Stingmon's place. Haseo sauntered, intent on finishing him off. Its cerulean eyes dilated when Veemon placed himself before Haseo, reloading his Beretta.

* * *

It took bold courage to stand before the unstoppable Modifier, especially when he had only fourteen bullets left in his gun, in the very last clip. How Veemon planned on stopping the Modifier, he didn't know—there was no time to make plans! He'd seen the severity and brazen hastiness of Haseo's movements and hoped they implied impending disempowerment. _I'll hold him off as long as possible_. Veemon wanted to give Wormmon time to recuperate and escape.

The Beretta was raised at Haseo, who whipped his arm in reaction. Fireballs flew from the limb. Veemon's constant movement coupled with the unarmed Modifier's wild aiming allowed him to avoid direct hits. The blue dragon fired a burst of three bullets. Haseo sidestepped, crouching and swiping at him when he neared. Veemon leaped over the attack, kicking the man's head, sending him to the floor. Gunfire burst from the Beretta. Haseo pushed himself out of the way, watching four holes appear where his back was.

Veemon grumbled. _Seven left! Need to make 'em count! _He bolted, lowering his head. "VEE HEADBUTT!" The Modifier reeled back, just as Veemon poked the gun on his damaged torso. "You can't escape!" He emptied his gun, having fired twice when he felt scorching heat all over his back. He was caught in a bear hug! "AAAAHHHHH!" Veemon thrashed in Haseo's blazing embrace as he was roasted alive. Panicked, Veemon discharged the remaining ammunition in a frantic effort to loosen Haseo's grip on him. Though **none** of them hit, the five shots were fired so close to his ears it slackened Haseo's hold.

The blue dragon broke out of the hug, skipped back, dropped the gun, and, scurrying agilely, punched Haseo rapidly, relentlessly. "BOOM BOOM PUNCH!" Three strikes plowed into his vest, crushing his left ribcage. More landed on other weakpoints of his body, all intended to _cripple_ the Modifier into submission or unconsciousness, whichever came first. Veemon ignored the burns accumulating on his arms, but it was difficult to give exhaustion the same treatment. _C'mon, body, don't let me down. Not yet…_

Haseo abused the digimon's gradual slowdown, catching his arms mid-swing. Veemon was pulled sharply leftward. "GAH!" The soldier receded, snapping back with a fist aimed right between Veemon's crimson eyes. Explosion upon impact.

A deafening tinnitus whined in his ears. Veemon flew towards the Clinic silently, face tinged red with serious burns. Landing, the blue dragon rolled on the corner and _stayed down_, lying on his back. "Ooooohhh…" A shroud of black clouded his vision. He heard nothing but that vociferous whine. Veemon could barely see Haseo whipping more fireballs at Wormmon. The devolved Chosen skipped down the stairwell in an attempt to escape, while Haseo bent down, retrieved the Beast Sword, and pursued as if he hadn't been injured at all.

Tears doused his damaged eyes with much-needed water. He sat up, albeit with difficulty. Veemon blinked rapidly, assessing the situation. How could they win? Beat the Modifier when it was nearly impossible? Remain alive long enough until his power waned? Armed with lightning _and_ fire, Wormmon's devolution made his death easier to induce. It probably wouldn't make a difference if Veemon caught up to Haseo and ambushed him before he could deal the final blow. Without a weapon, it was surely over.

There were no more allies to bail them out. Leomon was dead. Commandramon was out. _Probably dead, too_. Veemon wore a melancholy grimace, even as his sight returned. Things were bleak. He thought of Christopher, but he was unavailable, fighting Haseo's comrades. Until now he could feel the floor rumble intermittently, jolted by the destruction of the support pillars scattered throughout the Mess Hall.

Veemon shut his eyes. _Daisuke… Christopher… what should I do?_ He grabbed his head, shaking it. Should he just wait it out, wait for Haseo to return and finish him off? For Chris to come and help him and Wormmon? For just someone, **anyone**, to arrive out of the blue and pluck them miraculously out of this mess? The dragon, frustrated, pounded the floor. "What should I do?"

Something cushioned the blow. It was hard. Metallic. Cold. And smooth. Snapping his burgundy eyes open, Veemon lifted his hand, staring at what lay beneath it. He expected to see some useless debris from the battle, like an empty gun or an unused magazine. A gasp of surprise, however, suggested—confirmed—otherwise.

A block of solid metal, black and sleek. A curved grip ran across it, as if made for comfortable handling. Scratches all over gave Veemon the impression it'd been in the hands of an expert wielder. Wrapping his fingers around it, the item fit right in the dragon's hand, though it was about an inch longer than his palm.

_"It's called a DITE. It's a great weapon, durable and strong."_

He rose from his slump, panting, still recovering. Daisuke would certainly do what Veemon's thinking right now: _use the sword. Abuse it._ Cheerful optimism replaced his desolation. After all, Chris taught Veemon how to use it.

* * *

Watching the two swap energy from the devices on their wrists, Chris soon engaged Kazuki one-on-one again. The man started with, "ELECTRIC FIST!"

Chris never forgot the first time he received _that_ attack. _Not getting hit by that again! _He shifted sideways and trained his gun on Kazuki's head. The Modifier dismissed it immediately with a swish of his knife, launching an uppercut. It hit Chris's chin, causing him to stagger back. A pillar of golden lightning appeared on the knife, giving it the appearance of an energy saber. "LIGHTNING BLADE!" Kazuki slashed down, hoping to make a clean slice.

Aldo's gun whined simultaneously, even as the blade made contact. Unmodified, the knife wasn't sharp enough to actually wound Chris, but the electricity it generated _was_ good enough to paralyze him for a second. Kazuki made a grab for his gun; Chris tightened his grip. _Can't, give in… _He jerked his arm back, only for the Modifier to snatch the _other_ arm and pin him to a nearby pillar. Chris saw lime icons emerging from Aldo's cursor, all flying towards the golden arrow in his map. His left arm moved to block, but it was pinned down by the Modifier. _Dammit… it's like he's on a suicide mission!_ "Nnnnnggghh!" The hand holding the gun was wedged between his own body and the concrete. At this rate, he could _actually_ fall in the next few seconds.

There was one way to get out, and it had to be done **now**. He struggled to point the gun away from his body, easing his body from the pillar slightly; Chris didn't want Kazuki knowing what he was about to do. Ready, he pulled the trigger a few times and the pillar literally lost a chunk of itself. Gravity and Kazuki's weight on his arm did all the rest, giving Chris enough kinetic energy to fall. He escaped the æther barely; Kazuki wasn't so lucky, losing his right hand during the drop. The Modifier rolled away from him, clutching the stump on his wrist in pain, even as blue light closed the wounds.

Aldo's gunfire remained relentless. Chris got up to evade the impending æther coming his way. A quick view at the map revealed diagonal-right as the best direction to go.

"KAZUKI! DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!"

He didn't see Kazuki summoning lightning to his knife. Occupied with avoiding Aldo's æther, Chris never altered the filters from the Realm Scanner. Consequently, it did **not** register the blade's trajectory when the knife left Kazuki's hand. "LIGHTNING BLADE!" When Chris glanced back it was too late: the weapon **touched** his bare leg, and through magnetism metal and skin stuck together for a few seconds, bringing much paralysis. Aldo's orbs of æther struck Chris, causing a great explosion that not only knocked the gun out of his hands, but also launched him _farther away_ with multiple burns on his skin, the front of his armor completely destroyed.

.

Chris got up slowly, vision blurred. _Damn_. He heard a roar from the side. Turning his head, he found Kazuki running at him **screaming**, arms drenched in blue lightning. Aldo sparked the rifle one more time. Chris lowered his stance, evading two consecutive blows from Kazuki. He punched the Modifier's side, making him stumble. Pumped with adrenaline he recovered easily, whipping his electric-wrapped arm at Christopher, who saw æther leaving the scout's gun simultaneously. Chris ducked to avoid the hit and threw a punch at Kazuki. His fist was caught! Was he **that** slow now? Shocked by the current flowing through his body he tried to push Kazuki away with his free hand, only to be ensnared mid-swing by the Modifier's right forearm. Trapped, and further enfeebled by electrocution, Chris watched the æther icons approach him from the left.

Desperate, he mustered the last of his strength to pull Kazuki leftward, letting the momentum _and_ his weight drag him. They fell together a mere step away from Aldo's direct line of fire. Æther struck both, dispersing whenever they hit Christopher's body. Both were badly charred by the energy: Chris's flesh was crisp, blood flowing out of the large, gaping wound on his side; Kazuki was worse off, having red craters engraved on his left arm and torso. Blood constantly oozed out of them.

Chris struggled to move.

It was evident: the battle was over.

* * *

Veemon ran to the stairwell, leaping over the hole Chris made earlier, hearing the sounds of battle emanating from it, loud whines accompanying them. He glanced back at it, and smiled. _Thanks, Christopher_, hoping he'd come out alright as well. Near the stairs, he could hear Haseo's yells floating to the second level. "Effing worm! STAY STILL!"

Knowing what the DITE was capable of, a renewed hope empowered Veemon. With it, he knew he could help Wormmon, and defeat Haseo. An agonized scream from the stairwell made him hurry. _Help's on the way, Wormmon! _

* * *

Wormmon tried escaping from Haseo. Though he didn't bother powering up the Beast Sword, the Modifier was keen on killing him, such that he _ignored_ Veemon as soon as he was thrown out the way, literally. He leaped down the stairwell, only to see Haseo landing in front of him, intercepting his path on the middle of the stairs, thrusting the Beast Sword immediately.

"SILK THREAD!" the caterpillar retaliated, his jagged lips opening vertically to release a sharp-tipped thread. It impeded the sword's movement, knocking it aside. Wormmon jumped on Haseo's face and bounced away to the second mid-level below. As he fell, he revolved, spewing a net made of the same, white substance from his purple mouth. "STICKY NET!"

Haseo met the technique with his arm, burning the thread before it could even touch him, subsequently shooting a burst of fireballs at him, grunting as he did so.

Wormmon was hit.

"AH!" He fell to the floor, landing beside Commandramon, who remained unconscious with his body half-buried in rubble. Set aflame, Wormmon rolled vigorously to put the fire out.

"I'll save you from misery!" Haseo dove from the middle of the stairs, hurling towards the center, and lifted the sword, pointing the blade down. Wormmon spun one more time despite his fatigue, barely avoiding the killing strike. The Modifier's landing was so violent it cracked the concrete, pushing Wormmon back with a shockwave. The Chosen spat at Haseo. "SILK THREAD!"

Haseo parried the thread and slashed, missing. "Effing worm!" he plunged the Beast Sword into the ground. "STAY STILL!"

This time, he caught Wormmon by the tail. He felt the blade pierce his rear end, causing it to explode in a mass of green blood. Undescribable was his anguish: all Wormmon could do was scream.

"Damn shit giving me so much trouble!" Haseo cursed, retracting the sword, kicking Wormmon angrily, tossing the tormented digimon into the wall next to the stairs. He opened his cerulean eyes weakly, watching Haseo march _leisurely_ to him.

Glancing elsewhere, he trained his eyes on Commandramon. Unconscious. He shifted his gaze up, expecting to see Veemon following them downstairs: he wasn't there. The last time he saw the blue dragon was when he defied Haseo's path for Wormmon, only to be dismissed effortlessly.

Was Veemon still down? Or was he killed?

"I win," muttered Haseo, raising the Beast Sword.

Wormmon closed his eyes, wondering how Ken would react to the devastating news: Veemon and Wormmon killed in action, along with scores of digimon in the Satellite Base. Ken Ichijouji always had a weak constitution thanks to his benign character and his tragic past. He feared the Tactician's feedback, afraid of how upset he'd be.

_ I won't be here for you anymore, Ken. I'm, I'm sorry…_

* * *

Veemon's large strides brought him closer and closer to his destination. Arriving at the spacious chamber he leaned over the banister, finding Haseo approaching a tormented Wormmon, ready to finish him. The latter had resigned in the face of imminent death. Without considering the ramifications, Veemon **brazenly** placed his three-toed foot on the railing and made a leap of faith.

_"…Look at the DITE as an extension of yourself."_

He visualized the DITE turning into the sword he knew so well. That the machine could reject this was the _last_ thing in his mind. The desire to save Wormmon overrid all his thoughts. Behind it followed his wishes to enjoy his newfound friendship with Christopher, to visit the Real World and find his precious partner. Blatant was the blue dragon's excitement at the thought of Daisuke and Christopher meeting up.

For that to happen, Veemon must live. Survive! Still, it wasn't enough to come out of this alone—the _Digital Monsters_ must fend off the Modifiers and win together, for true victory surfaces not from solitary action but action **in concert**.

_"…Support its extension with your conviction."_

Driven by courage and friendship the Digimon of Miracles raised the latent weapon.

_"Once you're ready, just say the word."_

* * *

Killing off the little caterpillar would do wonders for Haseo's paycheck. He wasn't simply a regular digimon, but a Chosen, and one of the Twelve to boot. That he was partner to the very leader of the enemy forces would surely add plenty of zeroes on his salary, **and** raise his rank. He intended to plunge the Beast Sword in the very center of the digimon's head. The maroon "Y" mark on its forehead made a good bullseye.

It closed its eyes, resigning itself to his death. "I win." Haseo smirked, and stabbed the caterpillar's face with—a piercing cry interrupted everything.

"RESTORATION!"

_Above!_ He turned back and stared, shocked to see the blue dragon he just dispatched leaping down at him from the second floor. Despite the burns he suffered, the injuries stemming from the multiple bruises on his tiny body, Veemon had pushed himself to assist his last comrade. Haseo shelved his astonishment, confident he could take him on. _Didn't like waiting for me, eh? You must want to die **that** badly, lizard_.

Haseo's smug attitude vanished when a black sword slightly longer than Veemon himself materialized in his hands. Realizing the danger he was in, Haseo brought the Beast Sword up. "What the fu—"

Both swords clashed. For a split-second Veemon and Haseo were at a stalemate. Gravity worked against the soldier, causing his knees to bend. But that's just about it. He chuckled. _Hah! That all you_—he gasped. Wasn't that sword the very one _that person_ wielded? "Crap!" cried Haseo, finally grasping the severity of his predicament when a blast of wind surged from the point of contact, sweeping the unprepared Modifier off his feet. The black sword continued its path down, slicing through Haseo's chest, creating a large gash that ran from shoulder to abdomen.

His modifications were dispelled as he fell, watching the blood-covered Veemon tear for the ogling caterpillar. "Wormmon! Wormmon!"

Blue lines began healing Haseo's wounds, only to spark faintly, crackling into oblivion without warning. He had run out of energy, and what he had left wasn't enough to stop the profuse bloodloss he suffered. Darkness shrouded his vision. Veemon was glistening in a mixture of green and red blood. The dragon extracted from his utility belt a roll of gauze bandages, restrained the long sword in his armpit, and, kneeling, carefully wrapped Wormmon's injuries. Haseo could do nothing but watch and listen to them talk.

"Whoa, what'd he do to you, Wormmon? Stay still. Lemme fix you up."

"Almost died back there." The cerulean eyes emitted gratitude. "Thanks."

They were silent for the next few seconds, until Wormmon saw the sword, piquing his curiosity. "Hey, Veemon, that sword, isn't that Christopher's…?"

"That's right," He nodded. "It's his DITE."

"I thought it only worked for him?" Wormmon seemed puzzled.

"Never told you he taught **me** how to use it, didn't he?" Veemon laughed. He pulled the bandage until it was taut, cutting off the excess. The dragon pocketed it. "There! How're you feeling?"

"Much better," Wormmon replied. The scenery was darkening. Haseo could feel himself… slipping away.

"That's good," noted Veemon. "Weird." He stood, retrieving the DITE, and whirled around. "It's too quiet. I wonder what"—he dropped the sword. Haseo and Veemon made eye contact at that moment; the dragon hurried to him. Concern glazed his eyes. It was genuine.

Veemon knelt beside him, muttering. "He's _not_ healing? That's not right. **Why** isn't he healing?"

The Modifier's eyes gradually closed. He could barely hear Veemon shouting next to him. "No! Don't close your eyes! DON'T CLOSE YOUR—"

_Funny. He wants me to live. _Haseo breathed his last. _Damn lizard. _

_…So much for my paycheck._

* * *

Kazuki coughed, recognizing the rusty taste of his own blood. Spitting it out, he lifted his head—a painful, difficult act—to see what became of him, what he lost. To his horror, he found his body littered with blood-oozing craters. Though he wasn't completely vaporized due to Christopher's adjacency, the explosions _they_ suffered from damaged Kazuki to the extent that many of his organs were struggling to even function.

His opponent stirred beside him, moaning in pain. A gaping wound was on his abdomen, yet by looking at it, Kazuki felt like it'd been there all along, even before they encountered him with Veemon on the second floor. He backed away, using his arms to slither across the ground. _Must, heal…_ He undid the catch, clasping the digivice. "D-Modify!" Kazuki murmured, envisioning his wounds closing, his body healing, his vitality returning.

.

None of that came to pass. The blue lines of energy appeared, but they felt weak. _Huh? _Bewildered, Kazuki raised his right arm, feeling a weight burdening his palm. In a single glance, he discovered Christopher seizing his bare hand, unwilling to let go. "As if I'll let you," he rasped, "heal yourself."

The lines of energy Kazuki so desired wrapped themselves around Chris. He must've grown envious of Kazuki's ability to heal, to the point of envisioning the digital energy restoring him. The digivice strained to service both men. But Chris's injuries were less severe than Kazuki's, and the Modifier's much-needed energy went straight to him. Kazuki watched _his_ vitality return, _his_ legs heal. Christopher's clothes were also restored, though the black armor was considerably thinner than before.

During this time, Kazuki tried to wrench his hand away from him. Chris shouldn't be touching the digivice! All attempts were impossible: Christopher's hold was too strong. Kazuki's strength waned, and everything dimmed. Pain seized his entire body. Kazuki's digivice had run out of energy, leaving Kazuki to die of multiple organ failure.

Aldo screamed in the background; Kazuki no longer heard it.

He was gone.

* * *

Aldo thought it was over: Christopher was down—stirring, but down. Kazuki's injuries were severe, but easily alleviable through d-modification. They had won… then Christopher clasped Kazuki's hand, refusing to let him flee.

He siphoned what little remained of Kazuki's energy, healing _himself_. "KAZUKI!" Aldo yelled. "KAZUKI!" He trained his gun on Christopher. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Kikuchi's fingers moved across the rifle's grip, pulling the second trig—it burst into pieces of data. His digivice could no longer sustain the modification. Glancing at it, Aldo had only 1% left: barely enough for a five-second burst of enhanced physiology. "GOOOODDDAMMMIT!"

Kazuki died. Aldo shook his head. _Dammit! _He searched for **anything** he can use to kill Christopher, who was rising from the ground, marveling at his pristine recovery. _C'mon, while he's still distracted!_ Aldo scanned the rubble, the mess of benches and tables littering the ground, and what remained of them.

Then, he found it: Christopher's gun. An æther gun like their new weapons, but even better, boasting semi-automation, no overheating, no charge-up time, perfect accuracy, durability, and unparalleled destructive capacity. _The perfect firearm._ Kikuchi tore for it, tossing his gun away. It's useless now: regular bullets just bounced off him.

Christopher saw him run, but initially gave pursuit by walking. Walking! With a smirk on his face. Chris wasn't exactly fully healed, but it was enough. Then he broke into a sprint.

_You won't kill me! _Aldo was determined to get the gun first. Undoing the catch, he mustered minimal energy for one burst of speed. _You won't kill me! _Kikuchi rolled, picking up the weapon, and wheeled round to stare at Christopher eye to eye. The man was merely steps behind, and he froze upon seeing the gun, giving Aldo a menacing stare.

"BWAHAHAHAHA!" Aldo laughed. "HAHAHA! I won this little race, fool!" He aimed at Chris with one hand, backing away. Bold arrogance swelled within him. "I WON! Now I'm going to **cripple you** with your _own gun_! When I'm done with you, I'll head upstairs and finish off that damn lizard. The Veemon won't even have the time to scream for mercy!And **you** won't be doing any mourning when we're busy _questioning_ you at M&A!"

.

"Now fall."

Aldo pulled the trigger. "FALL, MOFO."

* * *

"—EYES!"

It was too late. The soldier was dead. Veemon collapsed on his knees, glowering at the body with teary eyes. "No," he whimpered. "No…"

Wormmon, steadily, crawled to him on his maroon-tipped legs. Veemon irritated him. He just saved a beloved friend from death, at the expense of a human life. Instead of rejoicing he wallowed in misery, unable to accept a crucial fact: Veemon killed a human. It was his first kill. _Ever_.

Veemon turned his head, letting a few drops slip out his eyes, wiping them off as soon as they fell. "I didn't kill him, right? There's no way I killed him, Wormmon. He must've run out of energy, yeah. It's not my fault. It's not my—"

"It **is**," uttered Wormmon. Veemon had to learn his lesson. Arguably he was the most immature out of the Twelve. His typical antics were childish, but tolerable. Even cute. It's what made Veemon lovable. But the way he looked at life was _the_ problem. He couldn't bring himself to kill a human, even if his dear friends' lives were at stake. Veemon couldn't kill another digimon either, not without a valid reason like "being made of control spires". Even Belialvamdemon and Armagemon were treated similarly, their deaths resulting from sheer, overwhelming power. Exacerbating things was Veemon's propensity to **fight** for his beliefs—his personal sense of justice and loyalty—debating with comrades even in the midst of combat. Golemon was a prominent and recent example of the worst that could happen in such squabbles. "You killed him, Veemon. You killed him."

The dragon shook his head. "N-n-no, I didn't, I didn't mean to…"

"There's nothing else you can do about it, Veemon," Wormmon insisted. Though they were spoken endearingly, forgivingly, and empathically, his words stung the Digimon of Miracles. "Just, accept it."

Veemon shut his eyes. "Daisuke won't forgive me! I know he won't!" He bowed his head, clutching it, trying to block out the memory. "I killed a human, Wormmon. A p-p-**person**, just like him!" He was hyperventilating. "I'm a murderer. A murderer… no one's going to—"

Wormmon nudged his side. "Veemon, put yourself together! You think no one'll like you? Accept you? _Forgive_ you?" Taking a deep breath, "You saved me, Veemon. I'm still alive. Don't you know how grateful I am for that?"

"But, b-but! But I still killed—"

"It couldn't be avoided. It had to be done. To save me. To save _yourself_. Nobody will hate you for it, Veemon." The blue dragon remained silent, contemplative, a sorrowful stare etched on his face. Wormmon, consolative, gazed at him. Veemon was distraught—confused. "You know," the caterpillar stated, "I don't like the idea of killing humans either. But… it's not like we have a choice."

* * *

Christopher was now in power. Completely healed, with armor partially restored! He had **no idea** how it happened. All Chris did was latch onto Kazuki's hand, prevented him from running away healing as he caught that small device in his hand. True, he _envied_ the Modifiers' curative capacity. It was grossly unfair. He, too, imagined his injuries gone, and some of his much-needed armor back. Shockingly the blue lines that coiled around Kazuki revolved around _him_ as well. Somehow, Chris ended up taking everything he needed!

The scout suddenly dropped his weapon, breaking for Chris's gun sitting near him. He followed Aldo, deactivating the R-Scanner since he no longer posed a threat. Chris entertained his ostensible display of arrogance, chuckling at the sheer terror eroding his confidence when he realized the fatal flaw in his desperate strategy.

Christopher grinned. "Sorry, but that gun only works for _me_."

.

It took seconds for Aldo to register what just happened. "Biometrics," he murmured.

Conscious of his predicament, the scout made a move for his earpiece, blaring out warnings to who're presumed to be his comrades. "Dangerous hostile in the Command Center! Kazuki's KIA. Haseo, MIA! Hostile's not a digimon. I repeat, **not** a digimon! Do not, under all circumstances—"

Christopher ripped the earpiece out and crushed it. The Modifiers were a pain to kill, and it gave him an advantage to remain discreet until first contact. He seized Aldo's neck and gripped it, causing great discomfort though Chris's applied force was much less than was employed on Veemon during their first meeting. "Now, how'd you get my technology?"

"Ack… I, ech, I-don't-know!"

Chris tightened his hold, taking great care not to exert too much strength. Certainly Aldo had difficulty breathing, feeling quite nauseous. He hoped the conditions he put Kikuchi through would coerce him to talk. "Really."

"I'm a new guy on the team," he croaked. "I got, ecchh, nothing!"

"Who are the senior members of your group?" He took Aldo's hand and dominated it, clutching his finger. "Give me **names**." He twisted the ligament.

"AAAAGH! L-Lucille! Lucille Diaz!" The pressure on his finger laxed. "Shit! Look, man, she knows nothing. Never knew we had æther weapons 'til last night, y'see."

_I'll be the judge of that_. "Who else?" pressed Christopher, ignoring him. "WHO ELSE?"

"Albert Reeves!" Aldo confessed, feeling his finger twist once more, gasping in Chris's choke. "T-the, ack, Colonel!"

_Colonel, huh? _ A rank not only signified authority, but _information_ as well. Colonel was an apposite level, and he figured he'd know more than this novice or that Lucy he just mentioned. "Tell me more about the Colonel."

"One of the very first members of my group," he blabbed. "Currently acting commander for this operation."

"So he's here. **Where** is he?"

"I don't"—How couldn't he know? A soldier would obviously have an idea of where his commanding officers were! Aldo even had an earpiece on him. He'd definitely know this Colonel Reeves' location. "Ah-ah-ah-AGHHHH!" Snap.

Chris moved on to the next finger, then the next, and so on, until Aldo's left hand was completely useless. Grasping the other index finger, he realized that Aldo really knew nothing on Col. Reeves' whereabouts. "E-EFF!" he begged. "Please! I **really** don't know!"

Chris acceded to his assertions. "Explain, then."

"Ha, ha, the three of us were," Aldo panted, "ha, a forward team. We're supposed to, ha, to clear the perimeter before rendezvousing with the Colonel. But he cancelled it at the last minute, and greenlighted an infil."

"Tch!" His response frustrated Christopher. Aldo's team was completely cut off from Reeves. There was no point to this conversation. "You're useless!" But he couldn't let Aldo loose; he's a liability, potentially capable of compromising the advantage Chris had at present.

There was a way to minimize risks. He lifted the Modifier and hurled him ruthlessly, ignoring his pleas for mercy, to the wall nearest him, which was considerably thinned due to all that æther flying around earlier. Chris didn't care, thinking the impact would kill him.

* * *

Aldo soared in the air, approaching the wall fast. Like Kazuki, he didn't want to die. Undoing the catch, he found 0.6% energy left in his digivice. With the last of his power he modified his natural healing and physiological constitution upon point of impact.

He closed his eyes; awaited the crash.

* * *

Veemon trembled.

"So it's okay?"

He couldn't believe it. Wormmon actually _condoned_ the murder? He encouraged slaughter… if it couldn't be avoided? _Not like we have a choice? _He frowned.

_We always **HAVE** a choice!_

"It's **OKAY**?" Veemon was incensed. "I don't like it! No way! We don't need to kill to survive! It's not right!"

"Veemon, when will you learn—"

"No!" He rebuked. "When will **you** learn? It's. Wrong. To. Kill. PERIOD!" _There's **always** a way to win, without killing someone! _He clenched his fists. Veemon always believed humans can be friends. Slaying monster-haters inhibited them from ever experiencing the wonderful relationship between man and digimon. For Veemon, it was grave injustice. "I won't accept this, Wormmon. I **WON'T **accept this!"

A loud, earsplitting rumble accompanied this steadfast declaration, startling both digimon. Glancing right, they saw Aldo smashing through the wall, creating a hole that led into the Mess Hall. The Black was awfully bruised: his left hand's fingers were disfigured. His body showed signs of broken bones. Veemon sauntered to him, placing two fingers under the neck. The pulsating artery confirmed signs of life, much to his relief. He peeked through the large crack, finding Christopher Van Numen in the middle of the Mess Hall with a menacing glare affixed to his eyes.

Without even noticing Veemon, Chris turned away, sprinting rightward. Presumably outside.

* * *

Lucille stood atop the steel gates, overlooking the Satellite Base. Operation: Midnight Assault had gone smoothly as planned. After rendezvousing in front of the base, the remaining Modifiers split in four: two 4-man assault teams, two 1-man artillery supports. Col. Reeves and herself were left as rearguards and strategists.

The assault teams, each supported by artillery units, positioned themselves on adjacent corners of the Satellite Base. Minutes after Aldo's infiltration, they commenced the operation, ordering the artillery to bombard the corners with high-powered _Fire Rocket _grenades. The assault groups poured into the base immediately, eliminating all digimon in sight. Lucille supervised the operation, relaying all updates to Col. Reeves on a secure channel only the two of them can access. Reeves was situated close to the steel gates, alone, keeping his eyes on the path.

Enemy casualties numbered to at least fifty, and continued to climb. The energy weapons supplied by R&D were instrumental to their success, since they deleted anything the lime projectiles touched. Lucille still wondered what these orbs were, and since _when_ R&D developed them. Such questions, however, were deferred.

About ten minutes passed since the operation began. By this point the surviving digimon figured the balls of light were extremely fatal, and adjusted accordingly to this finding. Some employed evasive maneuvers while fighting the Modifiers, but were either too slow or too stupid to remember they can easily heal received injuries. Others hid, afraid of fighting for fear of instant death.

Aldo's team was to clear the Command Center and delete any digimon fleeing from the frontlines. They were unable to deliver. Something impeded the team's progress, which was highly unlikely since Reeves permitted the use of the new guns, two of which already in his possession! _What happened to them?_

Lucy heard the answer soon enough. "Dangerous hostile in the Command Center!" Aldo broadcasted his voice on an open channel every Modifier can hear. "Kazuki's KIA. Haseo, MIA! Hostile's not a digimon. I repeat, **not** a digimon! Do not, under all circumstances—"

He was interrupted by thunderous static, leaving Lucille to ponder over this announcement. What did he mean by "dangerous hostile"? How strong was it? How could it fend off soldiers capable of deleting anything in one shot and even fight like digimon?

Aldo's assertion of this hostile's being concerned Lucy. If it wasn't a monster, it was human. The only humans capable of entering the Digital World were DSI soldiers and the Chosen. It was highly unlikely the Chosen had an ace up their sleeves; the DSI's mainframes never registered any transfers from the Real World in the past three years, save for one that recorded three human signatures. Of these three, Lucy knew they had little combat prowess, depending **immensely** on their "partners" to fight. How could someone like that repel Aldo's team?

This merited further investigation. "Reeves," she tapped into the secure channel. "Did you get that?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

He scoffed. "Incompetence on Kikuchi's part. We've got D-Modification and experimental weaponry. We'll only lose if we screw up. Newb or not, Aldo's still a Modifier. He **better **come out on top."

The matter was dismissed immediately. Despite the Colonel's reassurance of the sergeant's ability, Lucille felt uneasy when she reflected on Aldo's distressed announcement. It was as if he was on the brink of defeat, low on energy having exhausted all options with nothing but futility as a result. The Modifiers each carried highly classified technology. Even a single one in enemy hands could turn the tide of war on them. She prayed this development won't precede that.

Diaz wheeled round to update herself on the situation, but before she could even return to her duties as Asst. Commander, she heard multiple movements on the branches of the giant trees behind her. Darting back, she found a small, wooden tree ten feet from her, staring with its blue eyes. More of the like gathered before her.

"Lucy," boomed the Colonel's voice in her earpiece. It was calm, collected. "I've encountered digimon reinforcements coming from the path. All Woodmon. Some got past me. Kill them."

She cocked her rifle. "On it."

* * *

_What's with Christopher?_ Veemon thought Chris'd be at least happy to see him alive and well. Instead, he dashed out of the Mess Hall outside, never dispersing the air of seriousness gathering around him. The dragon hated it whenever he did that: it kept reminding him of their first meeting in the cave, which wasn't exactly pleasant.

Shifting his head to the corridor leading to the front doors, he started for them, stopping when he remembered Wormmon and his grave injury. He turned back, kneeling before the caterpillar… and seized the DITE lying on the ground. It had retracted since it was dropped. "Wormmon, I'm going outside."

His antenna twitched. "It's chaos out there." He bowed his head. "I think… I think we should escape, while we still can."

Veemon faced the corridor. "We don't need to. Everything's gonna be okay."

"What makes you so sure, Veemon?"

The blue dragon rotated, lifting the DITE. "I got _this_, don't I?"

Wormmon heaved a troubled sigh.

"It's okay." Veemon waved his hands, reassuring, "Christopher's out there. I'll get him to watch my back."

"Just be careful," cautioned the worm.

The blue dragon had moved a few steps when he reversed. "Oh yeah, Wormmon. What're we gonna do about **him**?" he asked, motioning to the unconscious Aldo.

Wormmon took little time to think of a good response. A smile lit up his face. He faced the fallen Modifier and spat. "STICKY NET!" The gooey substance wrapped itself around the Modifier, causing Veemon to glower in disgust. _Yuck! _"I'll take care of him when he wakes up."

A sweatdrop trickled down his head. _That sounded **so** wrong_, he mused, imagining Wormmon doing something he'd raaather not visualize. "Good luck with that," he articulated, spinning on his feet and went away. As he ambled along, he glanced back at his friend, instructing him to check up on Commandramon while he's at it.

Wormmon's response was light-hearted. Cheery. Cheery was overkill, but it fit. The Digimon of Kindness liked the way things were turning out, and he, like Veemon, could see victory in sight.

Veemon passed the armory close to the corner. This time, he rearmed himself with one of the spare SIG P39's. Most of his belt's pockets were full of magazine clips. He stowed Christopher's DITE in a holster of its own, attaching it on his left side. In a minute he was ready, to face whatever lied outside.

.

He dared to peek out the long window running along the western corridor. Nothing in the past could prepare Veemon for the carnage outside, not even the slaughter wrought by Kimeramon long ago. The Satellite Base was in shambles. Many digimon were grounded, most missing large pieces of their bodies, their blood staining the Great Forest's soil. The dead were everywhere, slowly dispering into the cloud of data spoiling the air.

The corners adjacent to the steel gates were utterly demolished. Eight men, six armed with those dreaded energy weapons, were wreaking havoc on the base, killing even the weakest monsters on sight. They had split into two groups, sweeping two sides simultaneously. Digimon wanting to survive were forced to retreat; it didn't take long for Veemon to figure out _why_ a team of three breached the Command Center in the first place.

Rage accrued in him. This wasn't a valiant battle. _This is a **massacre**! _How could the Modifiers carry out this evil, morbid task of deleting every single digimon they see? Don't they even feel an ounce of compassion in their beating hearts? The sight of his friends dying, denied of mercy, would've razed whatever ideals Veemon held for the human race if he didn't witness Christopher chasing one of the Modifiers responsible for this butchery.

He stepped out into this wasteland, astonished beyond comprehension. "L-Lord Veemon," called a distant echo. The Chosen scanned the ground, finding a Gekomon's amphibian head gazing up at him, his body completely disintegrated. He ran to him, lifting what remained of his comrade. "I-I-I, I'm g-glad, y-you're, safe," he croaked, and breathed his last, vanishing in Veemon's quivering hands. Gekomon would never return: his core data will forever remain incomplete.

Utterly traumatized, the blue dragon collapsed on his knees, eyes darting left and right. Surely there was someone still alive, someone he could still protect!

* * *

Compared to Veemon, Christopher reacted nonchalantly to the merciless slaughter. His goldenrod eyes searched for the Modifiers the moment he veered into the battlefield, holding no concern whatsoever for the monsters strewn across the soil, dying. He will stop at nothing to find the Colonel, intending to question him on the æther technology, suspecting the information relevant to his mission.

He clutched his medallion tightly. _It'll be three out of five soon. Three out of five._ Savage roars attracted him. Chris found a pair of Modifiers demolishing a team of Tyranomon, large crimson dinosaurs. The C-grade æther ate up the balls of fire shooting out of their mouths. Their large size encumbered them, rendered them unable to evade the orbs of light.

One Tyranomon was left standing, with part of his tail and his left hand permanently gone, when Christopher accosted the two Modifiers. "You two!"

They ceased fire, shifting their attention to him. "Where is Colonel Reeves?" demanded Christopher.

The pair looked at each other, as if considering their options. They seemed to feel no need to contact their commander; one of them, armed with the black æther rifle, took a few steps toward Chris, confident of his weapon. "Engaging tango," he said, pulling the second trigger.

Chris sighed. _Looks like we'll have to do this the hard way._ Brandishing his handgun, he intercepted the blasts of lime. The Modifier was completely unprepared for what happened next: the celadon æther consumed the lime orbs, their path wholly unaltered. In a second, the soldier was completely vaporized.

"Darryl," inquired Chris, taking note of the other's nametag. "Where is Colonel Reeves?" Darryl was visibly disturbed by his comrade's sudden death. He bolted, placing fingers on his earpiece. "Nico's gone, Nico's gone! Requesting backup, now, now, now—"

"FIRE BREATH!" The last remaining Tyranomon spat an intense blast of fire. Darryl d-modified his body and evaded the attack; Chris ambushed him from behind, knocking him into the dinosaur's open arms.

The Tyranomon instinctively seized the flying Modifier, overwhelming even his modified strength. It brought Darryl close to its mouth, opening it just enough for the man's head to slip through.

Christopher fired his gun at the Tyranomon. The celadon orb flew past the dinosaur, brushing its cheek, causing it to howl in pain when it lost a chunk of its snout. "He's mine!" growled Chris, turning to the captured Modifier. "Answer me: WHERE, IS, REEVES?"

.

Chris gave him several seconds to respond. Despite this "act of mercy", Darryl never acceded to his demand. "I'll just ask someone else then," he muttered, aiming at the captured Modifier, shooting.

* * *

"D-Modify!" exclaimed Darryl. "FIRE ROCKET!" He was blanketed in searing flames, forcing the Tyranomon to release him. Darryl escaped Christopher's line of fire, allowing the Tyranomon to receive the pale green orbs on his belly. It fell with a gaping hole on the very center of its body, dead.

While the dinosaur dispersed into data particles, Darryl undid the catch, modifying the barrel of his FN SCAR, blackening it. He responded to Chris's gunfire, shooting in bursts.

His aim was terrific: every shot made its mark, perhaps because Christopher didn't bother exerting the effort to evade. The metal ricocheted off him, burying themselves in the ground. The shock on Darryl's face was evident, and more apparent when Chris started running towards him. He tore away, turning back to cock his grenade launcher. "BLUE THUNDER!"

Chris sidestepped, fleeing the area engulfed by the sudden blast of lightning, and maintained his pursuit. Darryl scampered towards another pair of Modifiers engaging a group of fat, bronze-hued androids.

The stranger had an energy weapon, too,. Worse, he was asking for Colonel Reeves, like he knew he's the acting commander for the Midnight Assault.

Darryl recalled Sgt. Kikuchi's warning minutes earlier. A dangerous hostile in the Command Center; it wasn't even a digimon, yet it killed a Modifier and practically neutered the forward team. He and Nico underestimated him, thinking him an ordinary human. Then Nico was killed in a blink of an eye. Furthermore, he was immune to conventional weaponry. Could he be the same hostile Aldo referred to? It was difficult to think he wasn't.

* * *

"Haa, haa." Soft rasps characterized by fatigue echoed from behind two crates stashed at a corner of the barracks. Floramon, the very one who greeted Christopher and Veemon earlier that morning, was motionless, seeking a brief respite from the soldiers hunting the digimon down like they were game.

On the onset of the sudden ambush, Floramon had done her best to repel the human invasion. She soon learned that the weapons they carried, the orbs of light jetting out of the black rifles most of them had, deleted even Adults in a single hit. To make things worse, two soldiers remained behind, bombarding the base from outside with powerful grenades of lightning and fire. Many of the Children turned back and ran, but very few made it to the barracks or an equally decent hiding spot. Floramon herself thought she wouldn't make it, having lost an arm to a fiery grenade.

She went to the farthest, most secure hiding spot available inside, taking a roll of bandages from a nearby first aid kit and wrapping what was left of her arm with it. Some of the surviving Children made it into the base, but they began screaming.

"Frag and clear," she heard men say, preceding a blast that obliterated the flaps in front of the barracks and whines characteristic of the guns they carried. The Children were being annihilated one by one, without mercy. A stray orb of light hit the crate beside her; it disappeared, revealing the horror-stricken Floramon. There were **four** humans in the barracks, all armed with those fearful rifles. One, the shortest of them, was already making a move for her.

"Eek!" She whipped her arm, releasing the yellow vine from her hands. It coiled around the barrel; Floramon tugged, almost succeeding with the disarm attempt if the Modifier didn't go on top of his rifle, undid the catch, set his arm aflame, burning Floramon's stamen, and hurled a great fireball at her. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

.

A gallant Elecmon took the blow for her. He gazed back at Floramon. "Go," he uttered, enduring the sizzling flames wrapping his crimson fur. She was frozen to the spot, unable to move. Another soldier, tall and thickset, noticed them, and promptly raised his weapon. "MOVE!" Elecmon shouted, responding to the Modifier's movement with lightning bolts erupting from his tail. "SPARKLING THUNDER!"

The burly man leaped, gunning Elecmon down with the lime energy. Watching her friend disappear, Floramon instinctively bolted for the rear door out of fear. Tears constantly streamed out her eyes as she went forward, step after step. Lime energy followed her, at times almost hitting her. But miraculously she managed to escape the barracks, emerging from the rear door. _The Command Center! _It was the last bastion of safety. Lord Veemon, Lord Stingmon, Leomon, and Commandramon were there! Surely she'd be safe, right? Right?

Wait. Wasn't Christopher, Veemon's new "friend", in there, too? Wasn't he the one who orchestrated this ambush in the first place? After all, they were never attacked like this until **he** came along! She feared for the four digimon's lives—Chris was strong, fighting off Leomon with the dreaded sword of his, that sword with its ominous blade of darkness.

Gunshots erupted from behind, the bullets whizzing past her, some chipping away at her rose helmet. Floramon glanced back, finding the Modifier she tried to disarm tailing her, pursuing her like a predator. _Nooooo!_ She ran faster, and faster, but soon the man was relentless.

The Command Center was _so close_. Only a little more! Bullets zoomed past her. She felt one graze her skin. "Ow!" she winced, persisting. She found Veemon kneeling in front of the Command Center, with a devastated glaze on his eyes. Floramon was relieved to see him alive and well. "Lord Veemon!"

* * *

The blue dragon's ears jerked up, hearing someone scream his name. _From the right_, he recalled, turning towards the voice. Veemon recognized Floramon from the distance, horrified to see her without an arm. "Help!" she yelled, glancing back. Squinting, he saw a Modifier pursuing the digimon, gun trained at her and firing.

_I will protect you! _He rose from his knees, sprinting. Floramon, concentrated on the man behind her, tripped on a tree root and fell. Taking out his signature SIG P39, Veemon fired several times in the man's direction. The Modifier took cover behind a tree trunk, allowing him to approach Floramon unobstructed. He tendered his hand. "I'm not letting you die."

She took his palm, blushing lightly. "T-thanks, Lord Veemon."

"The Command Center's completely safe," he said, leading her to the concrete building. "Let's go!" Gunshots suddenly burst from the rear. _I forgot about him! _Veemon tackled Floramon out of harm's way, grunting in pain when a bullet scraped his leg.

Landing on the ground, he raised the SIG and returned fire.

The Modifier peeked out and shot back, knocking the pistol off Veemon's hands. "Agh!"

He turned to Floramon. "Go on," he urged. "I'll be fine!"

"B-b, b-bu-but!" she stammered.

"D-Modify!" The Modifier cocked the grenade launcher. "FIRE ROCK—"

"Restoration!" Veemon snatched Christopher's DITE, slashing the air as it lengthened. The gust of wind blew the soldier back, slamming him into a nearby tree.

Floramon was stunned to see the black sword in the Chosen's hands. Veemon had some explaining to do, but now wasn't exactly the time for that. "I'll be fine!" he insisted. "Head to the Command Center, and look for Wormmon!"

Thankfully, she left, acquiescing to his request.

.

Veemon noticed the Modifier recovering, getting up. But he knew he had the upper hand. Veemon was fully armed. Moreover, the DITE was with him.

Only the Modifiers' quick, regenerative abilities compensated for whatever advantages the blue dragon had. Worse, they had plenty of energy. It'd be fruitless to let him waste energy and give him time to call for backup.

A sweatdrop trickled down the dragon's face. _There must be some weakness!_

* * *

Centarumon, himself a respectable digimon, took command of the forces beleaguered by the DSI due to the absences of Commandramon, Leomon, Stingmon, and even Veemon. By his orders, a squad of ten Guardromon marched into the battlefield, unit B206 among them.

Circulating among the androids was a hypothesis alleging an infiltration made by a forward team, one that resulted to the deletion of all four in the Command Center, depriving the digimon of any proper leadership. B206 found this difficult to accept, as the four were the most experienced digimon out of everyone in the Satellite Base.

B206 and his kin were to reinforce a group of Tyranomon currently under attack by four soldiers, and they had to get there on the double—their numbers were rapidly dwindling.

Just as their sensors were within range of the besieged digimon, the four soldiers had split into two subgroups, one of them rushing to engage the Guardromon before they could even provide support for the Tyranomon. The infamous lime light irradiated the duo's barrels, giving them away easily, but despite this advantage none of the Guardromon could land a single Destruction Grenade on either of them. Worse, some of the orbs were striking B206's teammates, and he saw, with his own eyes, the instant deletion of four Guardromon.

"Avoid the light!" harked B206. "Don't let it touch you!"

The entire squad hid behind tree trunks, arming their missiles. The yellow-green light ate away at the thick, tree trunks. B206's squad leader, C13, finally gave the order: "RETURN FIRE!"

B206 complied, peeking out with extended arms. "DESTRUCTION GRENADE!" Twin missiles shot out of them, flying towards the two soldiers along with about ten others. Soon, more were dispensed.

"D-Modify!" he heard the soldiers utter. One was female. Were the two the rumored Modifiers Commandramon spoke of?

As the firefight continued, it became evident that the Guardromon were at a stalemate with the Modifiers, losing valuable time. In the end, their efforts were fruitless: the last of the Tyranomon fell. B206 could hear the dinosaur's dying roar. Worse, their position was slowly inclining against them—the trunks were growing thinner by the second. Some had been completely obliterated already, the enormous trees kept erect by the others surrounding it. B206 himself had changed cover twice already, and soon found himself beside C13.

"We failed," said B206. "All the Tyranomon are dead. We should fall back."

"Negative," answered C13. "Retreating now will encourage them to push! We can't allow that!" He peeked out of the cover. "B206, **hold your ground**! DESTRUCTION GREN—" An orb of green light struck B206's squad leader in the torso, deleting a significant portion of his body. B206 stayed hidden behind the tree, wary of more orbs. He also pondered on the very one that killed C13: weren't the Modifiers using a different shade of green?

.

He dared to sneak a glance. A _third _Modifier, armed with a regular, standard-issue rifle, was running to his comrades. His form was frenetic, as was the expression on his face. The sounds of missile fire and whining overwhelmed his audio sensors, rendering him unable to eavesdrop on the soldiers' conversation.

Appearing behind them was a blonde human, clothed in black armor and pants, toting a silver handgun. B206 recognized him as the person Veemon brought into the Satellite Base with complete trust, Christopher. Was he on their side? Did he really deceive the Chosen as all the monsters believe?

Apparently not, realized Guardromon, when the two Modifiers the Guardromon squad fought fell back to meet him, letting the third man take their place. Gunfire from his rifle was arguably less dangerous, but fatal nonetheless. B206 retreated behind his cover.

"Where is Colonel Reeves?" he heard Christopher utter.

* * *

"Unngh." Groggy, the military dinosaur opened his orange eyes and pushed himself up. Dust and small pieces of concrete fell off his navy blue body. _Where am I? _He surveyed the surroundings, finding himself right below a stairwell, littered with rubble. He could even see a gaping hole on the second level, directly above him.

Then it all came back.

_"LORD STINGMON! GET BACK!"_

_"DCD—urgh!"_

_Lord Veemon, Lord Stingmon, I'm, I'm sorry…_

Commandramon rose, fully alert. That's right, he remembered. What happened to that battle? Were the Modifiers successful? Were Lord Veemon and Lord Stingmon killed?

His eyes landed on the body of the one called Haseo, lying on a massive pool of blood, with a large slash wound covering his torso. The Beast Sword lay still beside him, its tip coated green. Commandramon heard a small scrape directly above him, accompanied by a faint "ugh".

The military dinosaur went to the middle of the stairwell, glancing up. He found Wormmon, attempting to drag something wrapped in white thread upstairs with his mouth. Whatever it was, it was huge. "Lord Sting—ehem!" He completely forgot: Stingmon had devolved to his Child form, and it was proper to call the Chosen by his current name. "Lord Wormmon!"

The caterpillar's azure eyes became aware of the second voice and stared at Commandramon as he followed Wormmon up the stairs. "Commandramon!" he said, elated at seeing the military dinosaur alive.

"What happened, Lord Wormmon? How'd you kill that Modifier down there? And, where's Lord Vee…" his voice faltered; Commandramon finally saw what Wormmon was dragging: the Black man who denied him the death of Colonel Reeves.

Wormmon set the man down, glaring at Commandramon. "What're you standing there for, Commandramon?" He began tugging at Aldo's body. "Help me out here!"

"My-my apologies, Lord Wormmon." The military dinosaur lifted the other end of the body, giving the Chosen considerable help. The man was still alive. It was obvious why Wormmon intended to bring him upstairs.

Given that, Commandramon decided to ask about Veemon, expressing his concern over the Chosen.

Wormmon sighed. "He survived the battle, if that's what you're worried about. You saw the man's wound, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, Veemon did that."

He blinked. _Lord Veemon did **that**? _"He'd never do that," asserted Commandramon. "Lord Veemon's too immature."

"He didn't mean it," retorted Wormmon. "He just wanted to save me."

"With what, the Beast Sword?" he queried. "It's not stained with human blood."

"Veemon used the black sword." Wormmon stopped, turning to the dinosaur. "_Christopher_'s sword."

.

"I-I-I, I don't understand," he stammered, incredulous, confused. How could that happen? The interrogation had already determined Chris's technology as currently unusable due to the ambiguous nature of the neural machinery securing them. There was simply no way to explain how the blue dragon activated the weapon.

"He claimed Chris taught him," the Digimon of Kindness articulated. "Honestly, I can't think of anything better."

Commandramon contested this. "But if he was with _them_, he wouldn't have shown Lord Veemon how—"

"How to make the sword come out?"

Commandramon nodded.

"That's why I'm beginning to think Veemon was right about him all along, and it's _us_ who made a mistake."

The military dinosaur found this really hard to believe. Veemon's arguments on Chris's favor weren't exactly solid, relying completely on _ad misericordiam_ premises and events he alone witnessed. Commandramon, who was adamantly pessimistic about Christopher's trustworthiness, couldn't imagine humbling himself before the blue, childish, _immature_ dragon and apologize to him. He refused to let go of his suspicions, but decided to shelve them away for now, returning instead to the issue at hand.

"Lord Wormmon," he began, ogling the unconscious Aldo. "What will you ask him?"

* * *

"Where is Colonel Reeves?"

The two Modifiers were armed with the black rifles. Christopher read the nametags on their uniforms. _Tina and Mark. _The female Modifier spoke, her voice marked with clarity. "What do you want with him?"

"**That**," Chris responded, "is none of your business."

Both soldiers looked at each other, and nodded. As soon as they brought their gaze back at Christopher, their rifles whined, sending out the lime orbs in moments. Chris, however, wasn't in the mood to entertain them, nor underestimate their ability to fight back. _The gloves are off this time_, thought Chris, preempting their gunfire with his own.

Tina and Mark's æther were swallowed by Christopher's B-grade æther, unrelenting with their push. The Modifiers jumped out of the way and strafed, taking cover behind the thick tree trunks. The firefight dragged on, with Tina and Mark peeking out of their covers intermittently, fighting back with their guns. It was the same tactic employed by Aldo and Kazuki earlier, one that Chris had little difficulty circumventing.

Chris obliterated a tree trunk Mark was hiding behind, and almost vaporized the Modifier, had Tina not risked her life to tackle him down, barely avoiding the celadon orbs of death. Their weapons were overheating, as the gunfire from them ceased.

He edged closer, intending to pin them down with gunfire… and perhaps disintegrate a leg or two. However, the soldiers had a plan in mind. Mark undid his catch. "D-Modify! KNUCKLE FIRE!"

Chris retreated behind a tree trunk, wary of the knockback factor that attack tended to generate, expecting something to hit his cover. Instead, an immense explosion came from _their side_. He snuck a glimpse, catching the area devoured in black smoke.

"Mark, activate thermals," he heard Tina order, "Cover me!"

"Roger."

Chris emerged, gun raised. What'd they have in mind? He readied himself for close quarters. That wasn't only the logical strategy, but also the very one Kazuki and Aldo employed with epic failure on their part.

Suddenly, the female Modifier emerged from the smoke, pulling the second trigger in close proximity to Christopher. _Shit! _Chris ducked, slamming the R-Scanner into her body. She was thrown sideways, forced to release the trigger. In response she undid the catch. "D-Modify!" She got on her hands and flipped backwards, snatching her combat knife as she rose. "LIGHTNING BLADE!"

Christopher leaned back, almost hit by the paralyzing strike. He trained his gun at her; before he could shoot he found her _grinning_. Chris fired a round of celadon æther. She dodged, and continued to move away from him. _What the hell!_ Then he heard whining coming from behind.

Mark had changed positions during his short encounter with Tina. _When did he—_BOOM! Chris was hit, the æther igniting over his back. The searing pain associated with æther contact returned once more as Chris soared, approaching a white-canvassed tent…

* * *

Veemon's opponent was at a serious disadvantage the moment he picked up his gun. He shot the man's legs, felling him, and abused the gusts produced by the DITE to further separate the Modifier from his rifle.

He tried to offset the disadvantage by closing the distance between him and the blue dragon, but that was a grave mistake. As soon as they were close, Veemon took a swipe at him, slashing down. The Modifier sidestepped, but that wasn't his target. Rather, the holstered sidearm was, and the man realized this too late, watching his last firearm halved into pieces.

The Modifier undid the catch, setting his arm ablaze. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" Veemon skipped back, avoiding his flaming arm. His opponent was less skilled at melee combat than Haseo, and that was all Veemon needed. He reared his legs and leaped. "VEE HEADBUTT!"

Striking him directly in the chest, Veemon bounced back and shot the man as he staggered backwards, thrusting the DITE deep into his abdomen. He kicked him away as soon as he pulled the black sword out of him.

Veemon stood, watching the Modifier intently, hoping he'd stay down. But no, he didn't. The blue lines of energy coalesced around him, healing all his wounds. The man's vigor restored, Veemon could do nothing but slash the air, blasting him away.

He'd been trying to find the man's weakness for awhile now. But whatever he did, the Modifier would always get up, his wounds restored, ready to fight. Veemon knew more monsters were dying as this battle dragged on. It **had** to end! _He's wasting my time! _Just how much energy did he have left on him?

The only way for him to **really** cripple the Modifier was through dismemberment, or if he actually fought to kill. Both were feasible: his accuracy with the SIG P39 was superb, especially at close range. He was getting used to Christopher's DITE, too. Its near-weightlessness made it feel like he was grasping only air. Despite that, it was a resilient weapon, far stronger than the Beast Sword. That it generated wind added range capacity to its unparalleled strength and lightness, a deadly combination.

His opponent attacked once more, booting the dragon. Veemon was too concerned finding a non-lethal method of victory to even avoid it. He saw it at the last second, and raised the sword to block. The Modifier seized the DITE and attempted to pull it out his hands.

_I won't let you! _Veemon envisioned the DITE retracting, and it obeyed his very will, startling the Modifier. He threw a strong punch into the man's chest, pushing him back. The Chosen brandished his SIG and opened fire, but his opponent, exploiting the tight distance, shoved the gun away from him and took out his combat knife to slash Veemon, who intercepted the movement with the firearm, a move that resulted to the divestment of his signature gun.

Veemon watched the man's right hand reach down for a little catch on the intricate mechanism attached to his wrist, and pushed it down. The digivice it safeguarded flipped straight into his palm, shining as soon as it made contact. Suddenly the entire arm was electrified, generating lightning sparks Veemon could already feel. "ELECTRIC FIST!"

He crouched, avoiding the attack. _Restoration! _The DITE expanded, lengthening as the blue dragon swung his arms sideways, making a deep cut in the Modifier's abdomen. Blood burst from the wound, almost splashing over Veemon, who took a few steps back.

The blue dragon winced at the sight. He didn't like it. The thought of killing or dismembering a human was too much for him. _That wasn't your fault, Veemon, don't worry about—_Haseo's corpse floated to his eyes. He banished the thought, shaking his head. _No, that won't happen again! _

_"I don't like the idea of killing humans either. But… it's not like we have a choice."_

Hearing Wormmon's voice irked him. _IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!_

As he regained his composure, Veemon saw the Modifier's digivice shine, releasing blue lines of energy that loitered close to the large wound he just received, healing it.

_It's all from the digivice. _Veemon eyed the thin, rectangular device. It was in the Modifier's hands. _Hmm. _Now that he thought about it, the Modifiers **always** had the digivice in their hands whenever they performed a modification. It was the same for that tragic escape on the Spire of Courage. _Even then…_

Ogling the digivice, his mind wandered. _What if…?_ His train of thought was interrupted. Veemon discovered a flying object strides behind the recovering soldier, heading for one of the white tents, probably the same one Floramon escaped from. Following the object were two, no, **three** Modifiers. A second glance at the object made him gasp: it was Christopher, with an agonized look glossing his face.

Given that Floramon escaped from that very tent with the Modifier Veemon now fought in hot pursuit, how good was the probability that his comrades were still in there?

_Too good_, retorted a little voice in his head. He glared at the man now standing before him, fully healed. He unsheathed a combat knife, unable to rely on anything else.

A sense of urgency surged in the blue dragon, and he knew what exactly bothered him: _Chris's in trouble._

* * *

Darryl's job became easier when Tina and Mark switched with him. He took their place, cocking the FN SCAR. The opponents were Guardromon: bronze, stout androids made of steel and had advanced audiovisual sensors along with missile launchers attached surreptitiously to their arms. There were three of them.

"DESTRUCTION GRENADE!" they cried, firing their rockets.

Darryl ducked behind his cover, watching the missiles fly past and strike the ground close to him. He peeked out, firing his rifle at the silhouettes of the Guardromon, hearing the metal clang when the bullets hit.

_There!_ He undid the catch after reloading the rifle, "D-Modify!" giving the bullets explosive properties. Darryl leaned out his cover, and fired several times, lighting up the area with the micro-explosions. One of the androids hid behind a tree trunk closer to him than the other two. He took out a grenade and pulled out the pin. _Fire in the hole! _

The grenade exploded. Glancing, Darryl confirmed a successful kill. _One._

Missiles roared as they launched, heading straight for the tree he used as cover, already thinned out from overuse. Darryl dashed out, transferring to another trunk, disoriented by the blasts. He had to reacquire his targets; the Modifier lit the entire section with his explosive rounds, but despite this he failed to get a visual on the two remaining Guardromon. _Where are they?_

He undid the catch. There was definitely one way to catch the two androids: EMF vision. Darryl knew it was within the capacity of the digivice, since it also permitted thermal vision. "D-Modify!"

In an instant, his vision became purple, and he could see absolutely nothing but purple. The environment around him was comprised of subtle silhouettes, almost completely overwhelmed by the color. He inched left, peeking out. Nothing there. Darryl went to the other side, finding a large object shimmering white, meters ahead.

He centered his eyes on the shimmering silhouette, never leaving the spot even when the EMF vision wore off—a safety feature built into the digivice for the user's convenience. Aiming down the sights, he kept his gun trained on a rather dark spot in the flora. He took a deep breath, then pulled the trigger.

Micro-explosions lit up the region, revealing the stout body of a Guardromon. Darryl made sure to empty his 30-round clip, thoroughly deleting the digimon. _Two._ _One left._ He reloaded his rifle, and proceeded to survey the area for the last one.

"Darryl," verbalized Tina, speaking through the earpiece. "Forget what you're doing and head for the white tent north from your position."

"But what about the Guardromon? There's only one left!"

"The hostile you ID'd? We landed solid hits on him but it seems he's resistant to the new weapons."

"…"

"Mark and I reassessed his threat level. We think he's the one who took out Aldo's group."

"So what do you need me for? I told you already, my bullets just bounce off him!" Darryl wondered why Tina insisted on him coming along. The Omega team was most likely in the tent, based on what he's been hearing on the open channels both assault teams communicated through.

"He nearly killed us both. It'll take a lot of effort to take him out."

Darryl grumbled, getting the idea: whether his weapons were useless or not didn't affect his usefulness much. "Alright, alright," he acquiesced, complying with Tina's orders. "Heading to the tent."

"Darryl, apprise Lucille of this development. We'll need the Colonel's go signal to break formation."

"Roger that," he said, pulling out of the area and moving north. Darryl twisted a small knob on his earpiece, accessing Lucille's secure channel. "Lucille? Lucille Diaz? Are you there? It's Darryl."

.

"Lucille here. Darryl, I can see your unit breaking formation .Why? This isn't part of the—"

"We encountered the hostile Aldo marked. Nico's already down. Tina and Mark almost died repelling him and—"

"Is it a digimon?"

"No, ma'am. The hostile's _human_."

* * *

_Human? It's **human**?_ As she deleted the last of the Woodmon reinforcements, she saw the silhouettes of Darryl's group moving towards the large, white tent on the northern side of the compound. The man continued to describe the hostile, profiling him: blond male, yellow eyes, donned black armor and pants, and armed with a gun that fires energy like their new rifles. When Lucy heard him say the hostile was resistant to the energy's disintegration effect, she stopped him right there. "Darryl, are you **certain** about this intel?" _All this just sounds impossible. _

"Ma'am," he replied confidently. "Nico's down. Tina and Mark almost died. We're thinking he's the one from Aldo's broadcast."

She switched channels. "Reeves, team Alpha ran into the hostile Kikuchi encountered."

Reeves didn't respond. Lucy assumed he was already listening, waiting for more information. "Alpha's requesting to break formation and fully engage the target," she went on, then proceeded to relay the information given to her by Darryl: his profile, his weapons, and the damage he already did. She almost omitted his resistance to the new rifles, but decided against it at the last moment. It was reported after all; it's not like it was done for personal gain.

The Colonel remained silent the whole time, choosing to speak a minute after Lucille ended her piece. "Permission granted. Capture him at all costs."

"Capture?"

"Intel implies he has intimate knowledge on the weapons we're using, probably better than what R&D currently has. Believe me, Yamaki **will** want this information."

"Got it," replied Lucille, trasmitting Reeves' greenlight to the Alpha team.

Almost immediately after she had conveyed the go signal, she received another communication. "Lucille? This is Tsuna from Omega. I've engaged a digimon that fights 'differently' from the others."

_Different, huh? Probably a Chosen._ "Tsuna, identify your enemy."

"It's a dragon, ma'am. A blue dragon, almost high as my waist. There's a yellow 'V' on its forehead…"

Lucy couldn't believe what Tsuna was telling her. A blue dragon? With a 'V' on the forehead? The description sounded _exactly_ like it was a Veemon. "Tsuna, there was a similar digimon reported dead the other day. Could you give me a more elaborate description?"

A few seconds had passed, and since then Lucille regretted asking him that question. Every additional account Tsuna gave reinforced the image of Veemon in her head. Aldo was wrong? Veemon was still alive? How did **that** happen? So many questions scurried in Diaz's head. _Shit, Reeves's gonna be pissed._

She accessed the channel reserved for the forward team, blurting. "Aldo! Aldo, Are you there? Aldo! Answer me!" Lucy called for the scout several times over the next few minutes, all with apparent futility. Then she remembered his desperate broadcast. How's he doing now? Was he MIA? KIA? She hoped it wouldn't be the case. Unlike Reeves, she viewed everyone as comrades, and was quite unwilling to leave anyone behind. Furthermore, Aldo and his group all carried technology that would certainly neutralize whatever advantage the DSI had if the Chosen Children manage to study it thoroughly.

All this worried her, moving her to amble forward, towards the Command Center.

"Diaz!"

She revolved 180°. Colonel Reeves called out to her below. "Where you going, Lucy?" he demanded. "Why are you leaving your post?"

"I'm heading for the Command Center!" she exclaimed.

"Why the hell—"

"The Veemon's still alive, Reeves," cut Lucy. "He's still alive!"

"That incompetent nigger!" The Colonel reached into his earpiece, and made repeated attempts to contact the scout, to no avail. He kicked a nearby tree, frustrated. "GODDAMMIT!"

"I'm moving out," muttered Diaz, running to the edge. "I need to check up on Aldo."

"Stop!" ordered the Colonel. "There's no need for us to move. Let's have one of the assault teams do that."

"Negative," Lucy negated. She snapped, "Both Alpha and Omega are engaging the hostile as we speak! Aldo's group is _incommunicado_ and I have **no idea** whether they've been captured or killed."

Reeves looked like he was unconvinced, yet had nothing to say.

"Reeves," she pressed. "You **DO** realize they're carrying the _digivices_ **and** the black guns? If the Tactician gets his hands on them, you bet we'll be all screwed." Lucy turned her back on him. "I'm going." She leapt off the gates, heading out into the battlefield.

* * *

The Omega team was assigned to wipe out the northern side of the digimon compound, ordered to seek and destroy all monsters. So far, the team had been efficient, systematically destroying even the Adults rising to fight them. Equipped with the new weapons, not even an hour has passed and there were few digimon left in the compound, and these were the ones who learned the danger of their new, innovative rifles. The Child digimon were mostly cowards, however, as most of them chose to flee, only holding their ground if they were out of options. Truly, the digimon were nothing but a pack of wild animals.

Plenty of digimon hid in a large, white tent, obviously Omega's next destination. The four Modifiers stacked up beside the open flaps.

"Frag and clear," came the order. All four tossed frag grenades into the tent, causing four explosions in perfect unison. Subsequently, they entered the tent, wreaking havoc on everyone inside. It turned out to be a _barracks_, not some tent, reserved for the digimon who could fit. There were mostly beds inside, though some corners had crates and supplies stashed.

"Brock, Gekomon 3 o'clock!"

Brock, a stocky Modifier, taller and stouter than the other three, peered right to find a humanoid frog the size of a 12-year old, with a tuba horn next to its head. His diaphragm inflated; its mouth soon gave out a raucuous noise blast. "NOISY ECHO!"

"Shut that thing up!" ordered the team leader. Brock directed the rifle and shot about four orbs of light. Three consumed the frog completely; the last crashed into a pile of crates on the side. A box of supplies was deleted, revealing a plant-like digimon cowering behind them Brock identified as Floramon.

Tsuna, the shortest Modifier among them, cocked his rifle—a standard-issue weapon—and shoved Brock aside. "You're** mine**, bitch!"

The Floramon screamed, whipping out a yellow vine. The vine coiled around the barrel, and Tsuna was nearly disarmed, but Tsuna jumped on top of his weapon, undoing the catch. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

An Elecmon came out of nowhere, taking the fireball. Brock crept closer, crouched, and aimed down his sights. "Deleting tango."

"MOVE!" the Elecmon urged Floramon's escape. "SPARKLING THUNDER!"

Brock leaped, gunning down the digimon. Floramon bolted for the rear door several meters away. The Modifiers, all four, stood ground and pursued her with gunfire, but she managed to escape. _Tch!_

"Tsuna," ordered Miles, the team leader. "Floramon's all yours. Delete her."

"Roger!" acknowledged Tsuna, agog. "Pursuing tango."

.

Several minutes have passed since Tsuna went out. "What's taking him so long?" someone grumbled. It was Jed. Brock always associated him with impatience and unbridled enthusiasm. Said Modifier, unable to stay quiet, turned to him. "Hey Brock, you think Tsuna ran into some trouble?"

He remained still, ready for any subtle movements. You never know when a digimon will pop out of nowhere. That's the trouble when dealing with monsters: they came in sooooo many varieties, letting down one's guard for even a moment can kill you. It didn't matter whether you got an uber weapon or not. If the digimon catch you first, it's worthless.

Jed chuckled. "Remember that broadcast from the Forward? Maybe Tsuna got caught by that hostile they ID'd."

"That's bullshit," Miles rebutted. "The only non-monsters here are humans, and there's absolutely no way a human can kill one of us at least."

"He's right," supported Brock, letting his guard down. There hadn't been any suspicious movements for awhile. Taking a few seconds to relax wouldn't be so bad. "We've got these iPod things, and our guns are _much_ better than whatever they'll **ever** get their hands—"

A blond man crashed right in the middle of the group, interrupting the Modifier. His collision made a gaping hole on the canvas. All three rotated, training their guns on this intruder. Before Brock could figure out what was going on, a female voice boomed through his earpiece.

"Omega, this is Alpha." A female voice. _Must be Tina._ "We're pursuing a dangerous hostile headed for your AO. Described as human. Yellow hair and eyes. We've been ordered to engage and capture. I repeat, **engage and capture**. "

Miles replied at once. "Copy that, Alpha. We got a visual on the target."

"What's your LKP?"

"The white tent."

"We're on our way."

* * *

Christopher Van Numen groaned. Receiving several orbs of æther from _behind_ was painful as hell. He rubbed his back, relieved to feel the staff still secured to the armor. _Good. As long as I don't lose it… _Some of it had chipped off. He rose, finding himself in a rather dark chamber.

The only light came in from the hole he just made: **dim** moonlight, its brightness further diluted by the leaves high above. Canvas lined the place. No concrete. Not even wood. Well, that only applied to the walls. The building's key foundations were wooden.

Green glows materialized, hovering above the floor, coming from three sources in all directions. They were quite close, too. Barely two meters away. Three high-pitched whines followed, and Chris knew what he was dealing with right away. _Three of 'em!_

He brandished the gun and fired, negating gunfire from one angle. Eyes acclimating to the darkness, and aided by the brief lime afterglows illumining the chamber, or barracks, rather, he ran for a bed and kicked it up, using it as a shield.

* * *

The stranger's gun produced orbs just like their own, though the color was slightly different, greener. It seemed to have made all the difference, still, as _his_ energy consumed Brock's fire and forced him to evade. Waiting for his rifle to cool down, he watched the hostile take cover behind a bed.

"Resorting to indirect fire," announced Brock, taking one of his frag grenades. He undid the catch, giving the ball a red hue. "D-Modify!" He tossed it. "FIRE ROCKET!" The blond man discovered the grenade flying towards him and reacted, abandoning his spot.

Fully exposed, Brock, Jed, and Miles shot at him from three different directions. Even if he had the more superior weapon, the Modifiers overwhelmed him through sheer number alone. He moved for the front exit, but Brock cut him off, charging up his rifle. The man didn't bother to sidestep, instead concentrating on counterfiring Jed and Miles.

Lime orbs jettisoned noisily from his rifle. Brock grinned, knowing he'd make a direct hit. The target raised his left arm, using some gauntlet to guard against his fire. It all seemed a useless defensive maneuver, until Brock witnessed the energy balls _dispersing_ harmlessly when they made contact. "Holy shit!" he ejaculated, undoing the catch. It was too late for a modification: the man had closed the distance too fast and was about to smack his gauntlet into Brock's face. The close distance and his speed would ensure instant decapitation. Not even the digivice could save him from that.

Tina's voice broke out behind him. "Duck!" There was no time to question the order. Brock did as he was told, and watched her smoldering arm pass right above him. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

* * *

Christopher did **not** expect Tina to show up behind the stocky Modifier he intended to kill. The latter suddenly fell, revealing the female with her arm outstretched, meeting his Scanner with a flaming limb.

The resulting explosion countered his strength, hurling him deeper into the barracks. He ran into a pile of crates stacked up on each other, knocking them down as if he was a bowling ball. Chris recovered easily, raising his handgun as soon as he stood.

He saw the Modifier called Darryl jump in from the hole in the canvas, cocking his grenade launcher. "D-Modify! BLUE THUNDER!"

Chris attempted to jump, but æther from the Modifiers almost smacked his face. "Dammit!" He blocked a few shots with the R-Scanner, and then a mass of lightning exploded on his position, cooking him. Christopher felt the electricity coursing through him, paralyzing him to the point he collapsed.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit! _He turned his head, gazing at the six Modifiers converging before him, keeping their rifles on him. Christopher struggled to lift the handgun, but one of the Modifiers—Mark, maybe?—fired conventional bullets, striking the firearm _and_ his hand. "Ouch!" The gun flew away, landing a foot behind him; Chris's hand reddened. He saw the long bullet rolling right in front of his eyes.

* * *

Tina **knew** the stranger was resistant to the energy weapons. Someone this dangerous had to be neutralized, even if he was to be captured. Given near-immunity to conventional fire, she decided to go for the next best thing.

"Drive on!" she ordered. "It'll take a salvo of gunfire to incap the target!"

Everyone in the room understood the threat the hostile posed to the mission, so long as he was conscious and capable of fighting. Incapacitating him was the way to go. Without hesitation, all six Modifiers trained their rifles on the man. Darryl, the only one with standard equipment, prepared another grenade, charging it with his digivice.

"On three!" shouted Tina. "One… Two…!"

* * *

Floramon entered the large, open doorway on the northern side. She was in the Command Center at last. Her arm throbbed painfully, refusing to let her forget the cost of escaping with her life. The corridor ended in a fork, diverging to the left and right. She gazed leftward, finding the stairwell. The wall beside it was ostensibly damaged: there was a _very_ large hole close by, leading into the Mess Hall.

She sauntered towards it, and was surprised to see a human corpse once she was close to the stairs. Floramon withheld her gasp, her eyes moving up the stairs. There was a big gap at the top; her gaze dropped, finding a pile of rubble. Smearing the floor in this area alone was cold blood, green and red. _What, what happened here…?_

Floramon had plenty of friends at the Command Center. At first, she assumed they were alright, as Veemon emerged from the building relatively unscathed. The black sword frightened her, even if it _was_ in the Chosen's hands. She'd seen the man he called friend wield it against Leomon with ease, effortlessly defeating him even without using the weapon the way Veemon did when he saved her. Thinking Chris in cahoots _with _the enemy, as every digimon rightfully believed, Floramon thought Veemon stole it from him and rushed out.

She held an immaculate image depicting safety and survival when she entered the Command Center. All this debris unfolding before Floramon's very eyes suggested otherwise. There was a fierce battle. A **very** fierce one, by the looks of it. Floramon couldn't help but walk into the Mess Hall. Good friends of hers hung out here in the wee hours of the night, taking advantage of the low transient population during these times.

The dining facility, or the Mess Hall as was popularly called, held only distress for Floramon. Another human body was inside, covered in multiple holes. The tables and benches the smaller digimon always ate at were mostly in disarray, thrown about here and there. One look at the clean holes on the walls, the smooth damages on the tables and benches, confirmed use of that dreaded yellow-green energy. It was eerily empty in the Mess Hall. No signs of life.

Floramon, overwhelmed by anguish, collapsed on her knees and wept.

* * *

"He's waking up." It was a bit high in pitch, similar to a grown man's whine.

He was in a bathroom, sitting on a closed toilet seat. Though his vision was blurry, he could faintly recognize what looked like hospital beds outside the door.

"Finally!" The speaker was gruff, sounding more military.

He struggled to move. Glancing down, he discovered the white thread wrapping him up from the neck down. _How did this…?_

Aldo Kikuchi remembered what happened, registering recent events in his brain. It was the Midnight Assault, and his first task was to clear the Command Center and then support the main offensive by flanking the digimon as they retreated from the frontlines. His team encountered no problems at all, until they reached the second floor.

One. Veemon, the Chosen supposedly killed after the battle for the Spire of Courage, was still alive.

Two. He was accompanied by someone he's never seen before, garbed in bizarre clothing.

Three. This person was immune to bullets, resistant to the lime energy he called æther, and could only be significantly damaged through this. Anything else would have minimal effects. Compounding the third problem were his equipment and combat skills, clear signs of heavy battle experience.

A fight that barely lasted thirty minutes ensued. Kazuki died. Haseo was most likely dead, too. Aldo thought himself dead as well, ever since he crashed into that wall. It was a miracle to have survived the collision, especially when he had less than 0.6% left on his digivice. The said machine occupied its slot in the mechanism Aldo wore on his wrist and forearm. Out of energy, and out of physical contact. Either way, there was no way to get out of this predicament.

"Lucid at last, aren't you?"

He looked onwards, gazing at a green caterpillar whose blue eyes bore into his own. Aldo recognized the monster immediately. And why not? The DSI considered this monster public enemy number one in all Japan. "Wormmon…"

"What's your name?" asked the caterpillar. Aldo noticed the military dinosaur glaring at him, overseeing this questioning.

"Kikuchi," replied the Black. "Aldo, Kikuchi."

The two were certainly going to milk out all relevant information out of him. Aldo had an idea what they were going to ask him; he's played too many military games before, at least, back when he wasn't with the organization, Splinter Cell, Medal of Honor, and Call of Duty among them.

Aldo speculated he'll be asked how the Modifiers tracked them down into the base, first and foremost. The rest was somewhat fuzzy. It'd be either the DSI's future plans, or details concerning the digivice and the new weapons. It was just too obvious.

Kikuchi's first guess was correct. "Aldo, how did you find the Satellite Base? Did you make use of someone to get our coordinates?"

Aldo had no problems answering this honestly. "Yes, we did."

Commandramon and Wormmon looked at each other, gazing back when the Black posed a question, staring at the former. "Do you remember the bullet I put in your leg back at the Spire?"

"Like I'd forget," snapped the dinosaur. "I'm lucky I could still run after what you did."

"After we knocked you out," spoke Aldo, "The Colonel modified it to emit a signal we can track."

Commandramon's eyes dilated. "Then **I** caused all this?"He fell on his knees. "This… this ambush?"

"That's right."

.

Wormmon pressed on with the interrogation, letting Commandramon be. "Why did you attack so soon? Commandramon got back from the Spire only _hours_ ago. If I remember right, your protocol calls for intel gathering, not a direct assault. Is this related to your long-term objectives?"

Aldo remained silent. They were after the Tactician's main base of operations, whose coordinates can only be obtained from select Satellite Bases. Other forward bases scattered in the Digital World were satellites of these, limiting the number of sources where they can obtain game-changing information.

"Nothing?" The caterpillar shook his head. "Well, it's not like I expected you to answer that in the first place."

Aldo struggled, somehow breaking part of the cocoon encasing him. His right arm jutted out of the thread slightly.

"Your digivices." Wormmon was eyeing the machine on his wrist. His eyes narrowed. "Why are **all** your modifications related to Veemon's armor evolutions? Just _how_ does the DSI produce them?"

* * *

Veemon retracted the DITE, holstered it, and, retrieving his SIG, tore for the tent as soon as he saw Christopher pierce the canvas. The Modifier he fought barred him, but the blue dragon shot his legs four times and ran past him.

It required several strides before the Digimon of Miracles closed in on the white tent. The rearflaps were in his sights. Gunfire erupted behind him, chipping away at the tree barks. He glanced back, finding the Modifier in hot pursuit, having recovered his FN SCAR. Veemon returned fire, forcing him to take cover as the dragon scampered into the tent.

His crimson eyes acclimated swiftly in the dark. He could faintly see silhouettes of crates and beds scattered across the room, and Veemon ran past them all without bumping a single one.

_"Drive on! It'll take a salvo of gunfire to incap the target."_

The blue dragon released the magazine. Two bullets left. He tossed the clip away and was about to reload the gun when he discerned Christopher sprawled on the floor, peeping up at the six Modifiers facing him.

_"On three!"_

Though the crates close to Chris limited his vision, Veemon could easily see the green glow emitting from five of their guns. The sixth Modifier readied his grenade launcher instead, apparent by the way he held the SCAR.

_"One!"_

He slammed another clip into his firearm. But what was the use of this? Five of them were armed with energy weapons. _Bullets won't be enough. _

_"Two!"_

A bed was close to one of the crates behind Chris. Even better, it was relatively hidden in the darkness. Being seen was unlikely to happen. The Chosen stepped onto the bed and proceeded to the supply crate.

_"Three!"_

Veemon grabbed the DITE from its holster and leapt off the crate. "Restoration!" He lashed the extending sword horizontally in a wide arc during his descent, generating a gust of wind that chucked all six Modifiers backwards several feet, meddling their aim.

"Whew!" he respired. "Just in time!" He looked back at his friend, tendering his right hand. "Chris, are you alright?"

Silent, Christopher declined Veemon's help and reached for the silver gun next to him, clutching it as he sat up. His goldenrod eyes averted right, towards the rear entrance. Veemon followed his gaze, and saw the short Modifier aiming the rifle at him, pulling the trigger. The Chosen closed his eyes, waiting to hear the bullets blasting out of the gun, and then piercing crucial points of his body.

Simultaneous with the SCAR's discharge was a brief, shrill whine right next to him. Veemon snapped his eyes open, thinking it came from the other enemies. Instead he found the silver handgun Christopher retrieved seconds ago, pointed back. He followed Chris's aim, finding the short Modifier wailing, writhing on the floor with his right arm gone from the elbow down.

Veemon was furious. _He didn't have to do **that**! _"Chris! DON'T dismemb—"

He paused. _That gun._ Veemon looked at the fallen man one more time. Despite the massive bloodloss and lack of healing, he could see the arm was amputated cleanly. A portion of the rifle had disappeared completely. The missing pieces were gone, as if they were vaporized without leaving a single trace. It reminded the dragon of the Modifiers' black rifles. _Why is it like theirs? _He wondered.

Out of the blue, Christopher veered and trained the gun on **him**. Veemon recoiled. "Don't point that—wah!" The man grabbed Veemon's right palm with his left hand and reeled him in as he fired a few shots with his gun, pinning the Chosen to his body. He glimpsed orbs of light passing through where his head was, and saw similar spheres shoot out of the silver handgun, repelling the opportunistic Modifier who tried to kill the blue dragon.

Chris's grip loosened. They were on the same eye level. "Happy you're here, Vee. But you better be more careful; I can't _always _save you like that." He rubbed the dragon's head, grinning as he rose. "By the way," Veemon heard him murmur. "You got the DITE to work. Nice."

The Chosen tittered. "Thanks!" He had to admit, he _liked_ using the sword. It was a good complement to his fighting style. "And **you** should listen to yourself, Chris," he rebutted. "I'm not around all the time either."

Five guns hummed pronouncedly, cutting their conversation short. The brief talk they had gave the Modifiers time to recuperate. Christopher and Veemon faced them, standing back to back.

.

.

.

_Christopher and Veemon are set to face the six Modifiers, together. Their combined teamwork will certainly work to their favor, but will Veemon's unwillingness to kill and dismember drag them down? Or is there a way of defeating the Modifiers without resorting to such means? Meanwhile, Wormmon is on the verge of breaking new ground on the mystery surrounding the enemy. How were these digivices made? How do they work? And what is their connection to Veemon? Will Wormmon be able to extract these information from Aldo, with Lucille Diaz en route to the Command Center? Coming up next on _The Interloper_, a vicious 6-on-2, Lucy's rescue operation, and finally, the showdown with Reeves.  
_

_

* * *

_Author's notes:

[6] In terms of chapter content, I'm actually waaaaayy behind. What do I mean by that? Chapter 5 was supposed to end with Christopher's departure from the Command Center (V-Mon's POV), but it ended prematurely. As a result, Chapter 6 needed to present this and I ended up stopping CH 6 when V-Mon and Christopher begin working together in the white tent when it was supposed to end with Colonel Reeves being forced to enter the battlefield (note that V-Mon and Christopher alone will _NOT_ earn an "overwhelming victory" against the six Modifiers, since that's biased, Stu-ish, and realistically improbable, i.e. unlikely).

The implications for this delay would mean that Chapter 7 content-wise (accdg. to my outline) will start late. Chapter 8 is _supposed_ to be the transition chapter that connects the first story arc to the second, but due to content delay the transition chapter will be definitely chapter 9, with the first third (or half) devoted to the conclusion of the Col. Reeves showdown, unless I manage to reduce the level of combat/narrative detail such that it satisfies my standards of realism & my intentions with the portrayal of the plot. (Optionally, I try to stick to my personal standards for compliance with the "show, don't tell" principle of creative writing.) Either way, by chapter 10, _The Interloper_ will be heading into the "Priorities" story arc, which is set in the Real World and, as I've been saying before, adds the Yagami (dub: Kamiya) siblings as main characters. This story arc is also so effing twisted it foreshadows highly pronounced character development in all main protagonists (Taichi, Hikari, Christopher, and V-Mon). Why do you think I'm so excited to begin with it already? XDD

[7] Regarding the plethora of characters on the Modifiers' side (Miles, Tina, Mark, Darryl, Brock, Tsuna, Jed): these are named "unnamed". They have no bearing at the story at all, hence the lack of adequate descriptions for them. The names wouldn't even be there at all if I had the Sat-Base literally overrun by both grunts and Modifiers, but given how I'd like to accentuate the " Butterfly Effect" theme from chapter 2 onwards, I decided against it and went with what you've already read. ^^

**Response to review(s) [truncated]:**

Dameus:

1. Daisuke makes his debut as a main character really late in the story (2nd half), but we get a glimpse of him in the next story arc, hopefully in a way the readers won't expect :D Still, I'd like to point out that Daisuke has a very reaching influence on the story.

2. The events of the past will eventually be revealed at some point as I intend to do so, since the story won't be complete without a retelling of the past. :P

3. I think V-Mon's unwillingness to kill is in-character rather than out. The Chosen Children, especially the 2nd generation I believe, never exactly wanted to kill their villains outright; "save the world" pretty much dominated their trains of thought and would probably override personal ideologies, but that went for the truly malicious digimon with "destroy/rule the world" schemes. Though the matter is of itself a gray zone, imo the major villains pretty much died because of the sheer power boost granted to the protagonists by cooperation (BelialVamdemon, Armagemon) or sacrifice (Kimeramon). Dark Metalgreymon (DMG) was a special case. The reality being dealt with here is that it is sometimes necessary to hurt friends for their own sake. Fladramon knew this, but Daisuke wouldn't accept this initially. This is a far cry from killing. Imagine if they were forced to _delete_ DMG, having exhausted all other possibilities. That is a completely different scenario, unexplored in the anime. Still, I'd think the Chosen in general would have a very difficult time accepting this, before and after the deed. Treatment of humans would be completely speculative, but I look at the Chosen/Tamed digimon as having different POVs in contrast to the unchosen/untamed. A digimon that has lived with a human would [1] know that humans (not only digimon) are capable of doing evil yet _not be_ evil simultaneously. [2] Such a monster would know the importance of a life, whether human or monster, and this is a play not only on the obscure areas of morality but also on the uncertainty of the future, which leads to #3 (concerning V-Mon centrally). V-Mon (and Daisuke) operates on the belief that everyone can be friends, that even an enemy today could be a friend tomorrow, which is why Daisuke never hesitated to team up with Ken after seeing that he was truly sincere with his "conversion", and why V-Mon never protested against being partnered with Stingmon.


	7. Weakpoint

Pre-chapter author's notes:

1] Word count: **14,890** words c/o MS Office.

2] Planning this sucked. Writing... meh. I'll leave it to the reader to decide if it sucked, too. I really doubt I was able to portray V-Mon in-character, especially in the last few sections of the chapter. It's very difficult, seriously, trying to anticipate how he'd react in these situations. To be honest, I don't know if my portrayal of Wormmon was satisfactory either. Damn. I need to watch the series more and jog my memory. . (If I'm having trouble now, I wonder how difficult it'd be once I insert Taichi and Hikari into this mess DX)

3] No recommended music here, unfortunately, though I _was_ listening to _Chrono Cross_'s "Brink of Death" (the usual boss music) during the main fight in this chapter. Hahaha :P

4] Hope you enjoy the chapter! Once again, reviews **and** criticisms are welcome. Spoonfeeding me tips on in-character portrayal would also be appreciated. It'd improve the quality of my work. :)

* * *

Brock groaned. Victory was almost theirs. The stranger they encountered—armed with weaponry like their own; resistant to the very orbs they fire—had been cornered, paralyzed by an electric current strong enough to kill men. Tina, Team Alpha's assigned leader, was counting down to the man's defeat.

At the very last moment, an azure monster leapt before their target, suddenly brandishing a black sword that generated a tremendous blast of air knocking all six Modifiers down. As he fell, the barks of Colonel Reeves resounded in his earset, ordering them to identify the blue lizard (clearly the monster that had just appeared) as a high-priority target "to be neutralized ASAP". Reeves' voice was shaky, seemingly consumed by a medley of shock and rage that left him lacking enunciation. It was easy to recognize the dragon that took them down: Veemon, Digimon Partner to Daisuke Motomiya, the Child of Miracles and Inheritor of Courage and Friendship.

Brock tried to kill Veemon, who was distracted by the stranger's firearm. Shooting from the side, he hoped to make a clean headshot. But the stranger was too quick, reeling him into safety as he countered with several blasts of his own. The Modifier rolled out of the way, and encountered Tina hiding behind a good amount of cover, eyeing the situation.

The woman tendered her hand, an offer Brock gladly took. She usurped all command from Miles, Omega's team leader, by being the first to shout an order in lieu of these new developments. "Both teams, engage _both _hostiles and execute the Colonel's orders as swiftly and efficiently as possible!"

"Roger!" Brock bellowed, shuffling his feet back to the Chosen and the stranger. He and four others took their positions, pulling the second triggers on their guns. It was five, no, **six** on two. They were heavily outnumbered.

Once the balls of energy left their barrels, the blond man pushed Veemon aside and, using the gauntlet on his left arm and the celadon orbs from _his_ gun, successfully covered the blue dragon from Brock's, Tina's, and Miles' gunfire. The Chosen, as if knowing what to do, took his stance beside his ally and **persistently** slashed the air, sending multiple gusts of wind that pinned Jed and Mark down, preventing them from attacking. Their defense was superb: one neutralized all gunfire; the other disabled any remaining hands.

Brock retreated to cover, his weapon beginning to overheat. He inched slowly to the edges, looking for a way to circumvent their defense. An attack from behind was best, but that was impossible: Tsuna was dead due to loss of blood from the stump that was once his arm. Sadly, he was the _only_ Modifier back there. Tsk, tsk. Eyes darting left and right, he sighted a comrade hiding in close proximity to Veemon, away from the area constantly battered by fierce winds. The man didn't move, as if he knew what would happen the moment either dragon or blond noticed him. Was he some kind of coward? Or was he simply being cautious? Whatever the case, this presented an opportunity the Modifiers couldn't afford to pass up.

Two fingers went straight to his earpiece, pushing down the tiny chat button. "Darryl," he addressed. All members of the Midnight Assault operation were introduced to each other before the mission even began. Lucky Brock had good memory when it came to names. "You got a perfect vantage point. Take Veemon out, CQ!"

* * *

Darryl hesitated. Veemon's gaze was directed to his two comrades to the right. The man was focused on shielding the digimon from gunfire, knowing full well the fatal effect those orbs had on digimon. Why did he bother protecting the lizard at all? Veemon was far weaker than him, being a Child level! Considering the impunity with which he treated the stronger, Adult Tyranomon, Darryl expected the man to use Veemon as a living shield. A sacrifice! But he _didn't_, instead protecting him thrice.

Brock was correct. Close combat was truly the only way to separate them, to give their side a winning shot. Darryl, however, wasn't going to rush them at once. That was idiotic. Instead, he undid the catch, readying the grenade launcher. Aiming, he pulled the trigger. "D-Modify: FIRE ROCKET!"

The grenade flew out of the barrel, soaring towards the two hostiles. Veemon's sharp ears turned towards the oncoming projectile the moment it went out. His ally beside him seemed to have heard it as well, glancing in the same direction.

"Vee!" called the stranger. "Jump!"

Veemon was way ahead of him, already airborne. The human was catatonic for moments, before leaping a little too late. Flames overwhelmed their position, filling the tent with heat and a transient orange glow. Darryl exploited this opportunity, climbing over his cover and sprinting towards the dragon, gun blazing.

A small, metal bucket was kicked towards him, acting as a shield. Veemon countered with a slash, intending to blow—Jed interrupted him, gunning him down with a few orbs. The black sword took a handful in the lizard's place, harmlessly dispersing the green energy while receiving slight damage. Veemon performed evasion with agility. Otherwise, he would've been killed right there, or lose the one thing keeping him alive.

Not that it mattered.

Darryl was on him instantly. He unsheathed his combat knife, slashing, aiming for the Chosen's neck. The digimon ducked, retaliating with a slash. Darryl avoided the slice and disarmed him using his gun. Switching to an ice-pick grip, he plunged the knife attempting to hammer its blade through Veemon's thick, blue skull.

The dragon dove left. "That was close!" He rasped, bending his legs. "VEE—"

A quick jab with the FN SCAR disrupted the counterstrike, eliciting a childish yelp of pain. Veemon tried to clutch his pistol, but Darryl was faster, grabbing his head, and kneeing it before flooring him with the butt of his rifle. Then the Modifier pointed it at the groaning dragon…

* * *

Christopher welcomed Veemon's intrustion into this lopsided battle. It contributed significantly to declawing these æther-armed soldiers. But he couldn't ignore the effects æther had on entities unexposed to it, making it imperative for Chris to step in front of Veemon, who assisted with constant slashing—intermittently generating wind that pinned down the Modifiers.

He hoped this strategy would absorb their inferior C-grade æther long enough for the weapons to overheat, forcing them to scatter. Then, hopefully one or two would get hit in the process. As this situation went on, Christopher noticed someone was missing from the group before them, the second man he fought.

"FIRE ROCKET!"

He spied the missing person to the right, abusing his vantage point with a precisely-aimed grenade. Chris wouldn't have cared if it was another digimon beside him. He would've grabbed the monster, throw him, and intercept! The explosion would kill the digimon, but more importantly, distract the soldiers long enough for him to kill one or two of these annoying flies. Alas, this wasn't the case.

For some strange reason, he couldn't help but look out for Veemon, his first acquaintance in this bizarre universe. Until now, Chris was astounded at the trust given to him minutes after he woke up from the mercy he generously bestowed. He personally thought it trust misplaced, a consequence of months-long isolation from human companionship. That Chris bothered supporting this dragon was but moral obligation. _Yes_, agreed his thoughts. Everything was in return for the help Veemon had given him, then and now.

.

"_That's not it."_

_.  
_

Sally's voice suddenly rang in his head, disagreeing. _"You're just scared."_

Christopher banished the voice. _Goddammit. _This wasn't the time to dawdle! Veemon was already airborne when he made his warning. Chris, instead of following, plodded, consumed by random thoughts.

He jumped, a little too late. Searing heat ignited the area, separating them, hurling the tardy Chris towards the dark canvas. Good thing he crashed into the steel frames of two bunker beds instead of shooting right out of the tent.

Tina and a comrade of hers saw Chris and fired a salvo of æther. Chris pushed himself off the mess and dashed forward, glancing left countershooting. Without warning the silver handgun was knocked off his grip. A stocky man, Brock, abused this diversion, coming close. Left hand electrified, he delivered an uppercut into Chris's solar plexus. "ELECTRIC FIST!"

However, the healing he received from Kazuki's desperate last resort had improved his vision and reflexes. Chris could follow everything! _Slow! _He was amused. _Too slow!_ It was a shame his body was still too injured to keep up, or work the way it should have. Still, how else could Brock get so close without him noticing?

Christopher pivoted sideways, eluding, and slammed the base of his left fist into the man's belly, simultaneously striking the trachea with a right hammerfist. Dropping the right hand, unrelenting he snapped it forward into Brock's stomach **again**, making him curl. He rotated the same arm and bashed the Modifier's face, moving the other to strike his chest almost concurrently. The momentum was utilized to gyrate 360° counter-clockwise for a turning-roundhouse that sent Brock flying leftward.

Tina and Miles' gunfire ceased. Chris retrieved his gun, finding Veemon dodging æther from a Modifier. He shot at the man, who would've died at the spot if he didn't inch away to find another angle to exploit. The orb whizzed past his face, forcing him to take cover immediately _especially_ when Chris applied suppressing fire and dashed to Darryl, who just floored the dragon with his gun. In his haste, Chris didn't see the Modifier hiding behind the crate he just passed.

Plucking Darryl's FN SCAR was an easy task. Christopher snapped it in two as the Modifier wheeled round in shock. Smirking, Chris pounded Darryl's torso seven times, finishing with a backhand to the face—all in a second.

* * *

Veemon moaned. Whatever the man did, it _hurt_. Regaining focus, he discovered his attacker rotating to find Christopher right behind him, grinning. As he rose, Darryl was attacked with fists moving swiftly and powerfully, ending with a strike intended to make him stagger. At this point, Veemon leaped, extending one fist like a superhero. The Modifier was hurled airborne when he was struck; Chris merely sidestepped to avoid the body.

Though it was the first time a _human_ fought alongside him, rather than remaining in the sidelines, Veemon had to admit: they actually made a pretty good team.

His eyes caught a Modifier peeking out from behind a supply crate, gun aimed on Chris as he busied himself with completely destroying the desert rifle he just snapped. _No, you won't!_ Snatching the DITE from the floor, he slashed the air. "RESTORATION!"

The gust lifted him up and sent him colliding into another Modifier close by. Chris turned around and scanned the general direction, searching for the two's silhouettes. Veemon knew he found them when Chris raised his gun with terrifying accuracy.

Now, it was impossible to forget what the weapon was capable of. The soldier chasing Floramon lost his arm, now dead thanks to bloodloss. Evidently it used the same energy those Modifiers wielded to ravage the Satellite Base mercilessly, ruthlessly. Now Chris was about to use it too, deleting these humans for what they've done.

Considering their sins, Veemon would've been more than happy to let this happen. He'd much rather be the one to **pull **the damn trigger! But something nagged at him. Weren't these men persons, too, just like Daisuke and Ken? Weren't they doing their jobs as soldiers, the way the Twelve performed their duty as chosen guardians of the Digital World? The former's superiors thought digimon were dangerous. The Twelve's commanders considered humans—_children_, as illogical as it sounds—the last hope.

If there was one thing his years with Daisuke and the Twelve taught him, it was the value, the sacrosanctity of a human life—the capacity for change. Every human person has a potential to become something else, even if that person was once involved in war, was once cynical and fearful, or was once… evil? A digimon was similar, too, through the evolutions they undergo as they mature: a system not even Koushirou Izumi could decode. Why should the Modifiers be exempt from this? Just because they razed the Satellite Base? Just because they killed all his friends? Just because humanity wants to conquer the Digital World as much as the reformed Digimon Kaiser Ken Ichijouji once desired?

Certainly, Veemon was not new to killing opponents. Kimeramon and BelialVamdemon were two prime examples. But those two were evil beyond measure, and strived unstoppably to remove him, Daisuke, and their allies from existence. Despite this, they didn't exactly defeat these villains for the purpose of _killing _them. All intentions were fixed on surviving, on saving the Digital World.

Here, he was dealing with humans. Humans wielding technology. Very dangerous technology. What made them different from the villains the Twelve fought was this potential for change. Ken's spitting image exemplified this truth.

Of course, the fact that _no technology_ was infallible ensured a weakpoint that would depower the Modifiers without significant bodily harm.

Considering all these information prompted Veemon to act. _Daisuke'll never forgive me if I let Chris do this! This is—this is wrong! _He ran in front of Chris, whacking his arm in an effort to redirect its aim. He was successful, though was almost hit by the few orbs that escaped.

Christopher glowered menacingly, his mouth ejaculating a flurry of expletives. "Why the **hell** did you do that?"

* * *

Brock lay beside Tina, with Miles looking over him after the stranger kicked him here. Darryl was picking himself up. Mark collided with Jed thanks to Veemon, both now recovering beside a supply crate. Seeing the way he fought Darryl and Brock, it was easy to conclude the blond as well-versed in Escrima. Combined with everything else he's got, Tina could summarize their situation in just **two **words: _we're screwed._

What was wrong with their strategy? How could **six** people lose to two? It was insane! The tactics had to be changed… but how? Can it still be implemented now that two allies were about to die?

Suddenly, Veemon disrupted the stranger, initiating an intense argument. Tina, using the earset, ordered the Modifiers to check their fire, find cover, and rest, while she listened in…

.

"I won't let you kill them, Chris! It's _not_ right."

"After what they did? Aren't you thinking of revenge at all?"

"Of course I am! But, b-but, it's not, it's not right… Daisuke won't—"

Chris didn't let him finish. He aimed the gun at Mark and Jed's last known position; Veemon grabbed his arm. "Vee, let, me, go!"

Veemon shook his head. "Nuh-uh."

Then the gun was pointed at the blue dragon. "Move or I'll shoot." Tina's eyes widened. She didn't see _this_ coming.

* * *

Neither did Veemon.

He gasped, staring cross-eyed at the barrel resting on his head. "Move or I'll shoot," threatened Christopher. Was this the same person who let him live when they first met, who taught him how to use the DITE, who carried him all the way to the Satellite Base, who Veemon saw at his weakest? Was this really the Christopher who risked his life so desperately to save Veemon from the Black Modifier and his team?

"F-for real?" he stammered. _Are you __**seriously**__ going to kill me?_

Chris glared frighteningly, so intimidating Veemon felt from him what he construed as the intent to kill. _But we're friends!_ There was a sickening pressure on his neck, along with it a recall of their first contact. With the DITE in his hands, Veemon wanted to lash out in self-defense. He knew Chris'd defeat him in the end, but if that was going to happen, well, it wasn't happening easily.

The Chosen watched his fingers creep to the trigger. He _was _serious. Veemon prepared to fight the first outsider he called friend in three years. Was he just **used** for the medical help? To think he trusted this despicable, manipulative, two-faced—Veemon dropped the thought, noticing Christopher's slightly trembling digits. His hand showed subtle—suppressed—quivers.

Could it be? Did Chris find difficulty in just _training_ the gun on the Digimon of Miracles? Having seen the man's ruthlessness firsthand, his brain's first thought was to discard this thought. But Veemon could feel his guard slipping, that familiar feeling of trust coming back. He was aware of this, and all the risks it entailed. He let it slide, placing his faith on his soft, change-centered philosophy, on that so-called uncertainty of the future…

* * *

B206 was following the three Modifiers pursuing Christopher. Darryl constantly checked the rear, practically slowing down his progress. Eventually, he found a white tent, a gaping hole in the middle of the canvas. Chris most likely landed there, in the barracks, a tent structure made specifically for the many Child-level digimon living in the Satellite Base, containing bunker beds and supply crates.

During his approach, a blue digimon ran into the tent, clutching a small pistol in his hand, chased by a soldier. _Was that Lord Veemon? _Activating thermal vision, B206 watched the events unfold within. He opened a communication line, speaking. "Centarumon, it's Guardromon B206. Tyranomon's gone. Everyone else in my squad was deleted."

It took some time before the centaur's deep voice responded. "Where are you?"

"I'm overlooking the barracks, Centarumon. I see Lord Veemon in there, fighting six Modifiers."

"Is he alone?"

"Negative." Chris was easy to recognize: his armor somehow blocked his thermal scanner, making it look like he didn't have a torso at all. "He's with the human he brought here."

"That human, huh?" B206 detected disgruntlement in his voice. It wasn't surprising; Veemon was the only one who trusted him. Everyone else suspected he'd cause trouble sooner or later, fears validated by this very attack. B206 personally found it unsettling that Chris fought against the soldiers, too. If he wasn't responsible for this midnight assault, then who was? Ostensibly, Commandramon and Leomon misconstrued Christopher's true allegiances. But that didn't necessarily mean he's on their side. This was precisely the reasoning behind the next order that came. "Continue your observations, B206."

.

Complying, he monitored the seven crimson, human-shaped silhouettes. Veemon's figure was clutching Chris's arm. Three of the soldiers, however, began distancing themselves from the other three. When he deactivated his thermals, B206 discovered they were exiting the tent: one woman, two men. One of the males was burly.

"Centarumon, three Modifiers are exited the barracks, leaving their comrades behind." B206 hid behind a tree trunk. He couldn't afford being seen!

"It's a wild guess, but maybe they want to bring the fight outside," concluded Centarumon. "They've got better cover, and"—there was a soft gasp on the line.—"We can't afford to lose Lord Veemon. B206, rally any straggler you can find and **intercept them**."

"What of Christopher?"

"Bring him to me," commanded Centarumon. "I'll assess him myself."

"Got it."

* * *

"Let's start with an easy question."

The first thing Wormmon wanted to know was the way the Modifiers' digivice worked. Though he wanted to unravel the mysterious connection they had with Veemon, knowing the way they worked would have serious consequences—Ken could incorporate the function into his D3, as well as the first-generation models the first eight Chosen used. "How does your digivice work?"

Aldo was silent. Wormmon spat a sharp thread, slitting his face. "Answer me."

His eyes narrowed. "No one's coming to save you, Modifier."

.

.

"The same way your partners' digivices work," the Black finally retorted. _Finally thought it better to talk. _

"What do you mean?"

"Forced digivolution needs your partner to concentrate on some desire, and believe in it," said Aldo. "Wanting to help friends, wishing for some power, and placing all that hope in a small weakling like yourself…"

It sounded like the Modifiers' digivice were neural technologies, similar to Christopher's gauntlet and sword, and remarkably similar to the Chosen Children's digivice, both the D3 and the first-gen models. How it permitted these soldiers to redirect the digital energy fueled by their generated desire and faith to themselves was most likely a hardware issue. _Nothing Koushirou Izumi can't uncrack_. Wormmon knew the Digimon Tactician well enough to know he'd willingly hand over his D3 to Koushirou for research and development purposes.

"Why are you using such complicated machinery?" questioned Wormmon, intent on finding the reasoning behind the catch-lock mechanism the Modifiers used to secure their digivices. He eyed the gadget on Aldo's exposed arm. The digivice was fastened to it, face-down, almost in contact with the skin. Wormmon tinkered with it. Aldo did not bother struggling—it would've been a useless endeavor, anyway.

Hitting the little switch on the base of his palm, the digivice suddenly sprang forward, straight into Aldo's palm. A little monitor on the gadget revealed 0.1% power remained in the digivice. "Modification Module Active" was displayed underneath the energy available. Aldo could've easily escaped if he had more battery power in the device, apparently.

Why can't the DSI simply model the holder in such a way the digivice is simply face-up on the user's forearm? Did it **really** have to spring forward into the user's palm? What's the use of this?

"It's easier for us to hold the digivice," explained Sgt. Kikuchi. "Flick of the finger puts it in my hand instantly, letting me d-modify on the fly."

The explanation did not satisfy the worm. Ken could engineer a better construct, he knew. There was something strange to the necessity of this catch-lock device…

"More," Wormmon ordered. "I want to know **more**." It changed Wormmon's top priorities from unraveling the Veemon-Modifier connection to uncovering the functions of these devices.

* * *

Christopher was faced with the act of killing Veemon, unmoved by his death threat. He ignored the fact he held the DITE—a fight between him and the Chosen will always end with his victory. Chris had no attachments to this compound at all. He could leave the Satellite Base for all he cared, but not without extracting relevant information from that Colonel Reeves. If he had to kill every single soldier in the compound, fine. If he had to use his staff, so be it. As long as he knows where he can find what he seeks, the consequences wouldn't be a problem. Or so he hoped.

He attempted to pull the trigger, but somehow, he just couldn't do it. Chris was **baffled**! He murdered that monster called Monochromon. He would've killed Leomon if he wasn't stopped. He K.O.'d Stingmon and Commandramon without hesitation. He fired at an opponent pinioned by a red dinosaur _fully aware_ he'd probably do something to get out of it and let the monster take his place. If he could do all those things, then why? WHY can't he delete the blue dragon clutching his arm now? They've known each other for only a day at the most, haven't they? They weren't friends. They were _acquaintances_, period. Under such circumstances, Chris shouldn't have a problem deleting this little pest. So why was it so difficult to fire the gun?

Chris saw Veemon's guard slacken, those scarlet eyes waiting for his next move, sparkling with some lowered the gun. _I, I really can't._ What he found humiliating was the fact he can't even explain it to himself.

Meanwhile, the Modifiers exploited this lull in combat as soon as they were ready.

"BLUE THUNDER!" Darryl cried amid whining erupting from left and right.

"Tch!" He tackled Veemon, steering their bodies behind cover. Chris couldn't just leave him out there to die. _"You're a great friend, you know that?" _His own words echoed in his head, even while Chris peeked out from his cover and raised his weapon at Darryl. He felt Veemon's warm, leathery hand on his arm again, grip tightening. Chris glared.

_Nothing good will happen if this bullshit continues. _It had to be resolved **now**. Outside was best for this. Cover was more abundant; the large space permitted greater mobility. Christopher, peering, found another large hole in the canvas. It was behind him, unguarded. The perfect backdoor.

"Vee, we need to talk," he verbalized, kneeling beside the blue dragon. "Climb on my back and hang on tight. We're getting out of here."

"You won't kill them, will you?" asked the monster so innocently.

"I won't. Now hand me the DITE." A very thin layer of wood and steel represented what's left of their cover, as the Modifiers cooled their weapons down, leaving Chris and Veemon with precious seconds of silence.

Chris rose and slashed the air in a wide arc. Darryl had advanced during the ceasefire to ambush them in close quarters. He ducked at the last moment, saving his head. The resultant wind disturbed the Modifiers further; Chris made a break for the hole, with the blue dragon hugging his back tightly, gripping the plates of his restored armor.

He glanced back, sighting a number of orbs flying at him. He sidestepped, sparing Veemon from a direct hit. Mark suddenly appeared from the side, swiping at both Veemon and Chris with a flaming hand. Christopher redirected it and thrust the DITE's hilt into his belly, kicking him back. "Behind us!" Veemon spoke into his left ear.

Gyrating, he found Daryll staggering, his arm encased in electricity. The Digimon of Miracles had heard him coming, and reacted by leaning his weight on Chris and flexing his body, hitting the Modifier's face with his sturdy feet. A little far back, Jed was aiming his rifle at them, humming ominously.

A slash sent a wind roaring towards him, disrupting this sneaky tactic. They continued for the one hole on the canvas, approaching, getting closer and closer. Veemon rested his head on Chris's shoulder. "Hey…"

Christopher's goldenrod eyes panned left, making eye contact with the blue dragon. "What?" He veered back to send another wind blast to the Modifiers.

"There're only **three **Modifiersin here."

"You're joking," he rebutted. The woman, that Tina, was definitely taking responsibility for all five. It was unstrategic—cowardly—to abandon three comrades to battle an insanely-powerful opponent.

The Digimon of Miracles slid his head closer to Chris's to the point their cheeks nearly touched, _whining_. "You think I'd joke around **NOW**?"

_That's true. _Chris gazed back fleetingly. It was too dark to actually confirm this. Furthermore, the C-grade æther had stopped raining, a clear signal of the soldiers' cooldown time. But this didn't mean everything was quiet; explosions of flame and thunder pursued them. Darryl harassed Chris and Veemon continuously with his grenades, increasing the gap between them, pushing the two closer to the hole.

Honestly, Christopher would rather reverse himself right now and kill off the three. But with Veemon hugging his back, capable of reaching his own gun, it seemed pointless to do so, lest he risked shooting the dragon for real, even if it was purely accidental.

He drove on, steps away from their exit. Before they could proceed, he and Veemon would have to resolve this whole "not killing" thing. Since when did "killing" include amputation? Whatever the case, this problem **must** be settled.

As Christopher climbed through the whole, he noticed. The Modifiers weren't being overly aggressive as they were earlier, despite knowing his objective: that hole. This lack of security was suspicious, and if he took Veemon's words as they were...

_I don't like this._

.

.

_Activate_. Chris stepped out into the Great Forest, behind the barracks. With three Modifiers gone, that'd mean they were planning something. For all he knew, he could've led Veemon and himself right into a trap. _Better safe than—_the map appeared, revealing **multiple orbs of æther** approaching from three directions, fast. "HOLY SHIT!"

* * *

Her strategy was perfect. The weakness behind Chris and the Chosen's team-up stemmed from the very fact they weren't used to working together. What happened was a classic tale of two conflicting paradigms: Veemon's admirable yet naïve policy not to kill; the stranger's cold ruthlessness in battle, a necessity for survival and the mark of an experienced fighter. Seeing the Chosen's ally aim a gun at him was a shocking sight. Granted, it would've been the perfect moment to kill the digimon and significantly harm the blond stranger while they were too distracted arguing over their contradictory policies on combat, but Tina knew her soldiers were tired, not to mention the intruder's reaction time was, well, abnormally swift. For this reason, she couldn't risk exploiting the window of opportunity closing right before her eyes.

_But I can open another one myself_, she thought, motioning to Miles just as Brock slowly rose from the ground, shaken but otherwise good. Tina had given the order to check their fire and snuck out of the other side of the tent, through one of the large holes generated by the battle. As she and her two companions slid out of the barracks, Tina ensured she gave Jed, Mark, and Darryl the order to flush the digimon and human out.

Soon enough, the blond climbed out of the white tent, with the blue dragon tightly wrapping his arms around his black armor, holding on as much as possible. "Now," she ordered Miles and Brock.

Lime orbs emerged from the three guns, rushing at the two hostiles from three different directions. Tina heard the man curse. She grinned. _Gotcha._

Chris reacted instantly, sprinting towards a nearby tree. Miles cut him off, d-modifying his combat knife. "LIGHTNING BLADE!"

His response was an attempt to intercept the golden blade of electricity, but Chris pulled back at the last second, veering sideways to avoid the strike, apparently realizing a mere _touch_ of the intangible edge would send electricity coursing through him and Veemon. Not only would it be enough to paralyze Chris, but also receiving the attack could've fried the blue dragon holding onto him.

Chris prepared his counterattack, only to be routed by Brock, who charged at the human with modified agility, smashing into him with such force he was thrown into the air, heading for a tree trunk. All three Modifiers concentrated their aim, pulling the second trigger now that their weapons have cooled down.

* * *

Christopher's decision relieved Veemon. Delighted, even. That he chose to lower his gun was a sign of respect for the Chosen's policy. Well, that's how he saw it. But there was no time to celebrate. Chris voiced his intention to have a "little chat" before moving on with the battle. Outside was obviously the best place to do just that; both human and digimon knew this.

The whole thing turned out to be a trap. Three of the Modifiers had disappeared during their precarious escape from the barracks, obviously to setup this ambush. As they flew towards a tree, thrown airborne by a running body-slam from the stocky soldier, Veemon reviewed the events of the ambush quickly and thoroughly, realizing how close he came to dying when one of the men brandished the golden lightning.

They crashed, falling to the forest floor. Veemon rose, kneeling on all fours, still stunned by the impact buffed by Chris's weight. Time was working against them. All three Modifiers converged and released the fearful spheres of green. His ally acted fast and with instinct, sitting up, shielding Veemon and himself with _only_ the gauntlet on his left arm. The dreadful energy dispersed upon contact, arcing over both dragon and human and dissipating harmlessly into the air.

Now all they had to do was wait until the soldiers' weapons overheat. Until then, he thought, they were safe.

.

Too bad Veemon was **very** wrong.

Mere seconds had passed when a male voice shouted over the whining firearms. "D-Modify: BLUE THUNDER!" Glancing right, there was Darryl aiming an FN SCAR—_But Chris __**trashed**__ that!_—launching a grenade, one that would undoubtedly paralyze both and leave them motionless on the mercy of those orbs Chris held back.

Without a moment's hesitation he slammed his elbow into the man's torso, startling him. "Oof!" Christopher struggled to keep the R-Scanner raised, while Veemon turned back and, seizing the pistol on his utility belt, returned fire. Darryl slipped back into the white tent.

"Mark! Jed!" the Digimon of Miracles heard Tina screech. "They're in position, GO-GO-GO-**GOOO**!"

The temperature behind them rose, making Veemon uncomfortable. A brief glimpse of his six revealed a soldier bursting from the barracks several meters away, leaping, arms wrapped in blazing flames. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" Running underneath Mark was another man, gripping a black rifle without mercy. The blue dragon could only gasp.

* * *

Lucille Diaz held the Command Center in her sights. Several stragglers tried to catch her, exploiting her solo flight. Of **all** the Modifiers here, she was the most experienced, along with Sgt. Kikuchi and Col. Reeves. That she was among the first who worked directly with DSI Vice-Chairman Mitsuo Yamaki only served to stress that reputation.

"D-Modify!" she bellowed, undoing the catch. Blue lines circled her legs as she jumped to the low branches of the great trees, traveling along them for a quick charge towards the Command Center. It was a decision well-made; she snuck a peek down and saw plenty of stragglers organizing below her, led by a Guardromon. Getting caught by them would've delayed her significantly; such delays could cause disaster to the war—any opportunist monster left in the Command Center would take her fallen comrades' equipment in the name of victory. _If the Tactician gets his hands on them…_

She maintained her direction, moving faster and faster, slowing down when she passed by a white tent. Down, on her left, were the Alpha and Omega teams working together as one, with that Tina Fujieda wielding authority, completely usurping it even from Miles. Though a newbie like Aldo, she displayed promising potential to be a key Modifier, making strategic observations before executing the perfect tactic, unlike a certain Colonel who rushed in blindly, emboldened by advanced weapons completely beyond their time. It was an issue Lucy will need to clarify with Yamaki later. She knew _he_ was involved in this, somehow. Was it unfair she wasn't in on the secret like Aldo and Reeves? Not exactly. What irritated Diaz was the fact they were quite close awhile back, and all that time, he never told her despite her close connections to DSI's R&D division.

Curious, she decelerated, surveying the battle scene. What could've possibly led Tina to _ignore_ the battle plan—however reckless it was—and regroup all the Modifiers around her?

Leaning a bit, standing on the tip of her toes, Lucille finally saw them. Veemon. And a blond, _adult_ human right next to him, garbed in some bizarre armor of pure black. Mark was leaping with a _Knuckle Fire_ modification; Jed ran underneath. One rained fireballs from above; the other streamed green energy from below. The lizard was too stunned to simply do anything. Certain death awaited them.

It _would_ have if the stranger didn't take out a small gun and return fire on _both_. Orbs, too, flew out of his weapon, albeit of a slightly different shade of green. Mark twisted to avoid the few shots coming his way, escaping with a missing digit. _Ouch. _Jed rolled out of harm's way, towards some cover. Tina and Miles ceased fire to cooldown. Brock and Darryl came in from two directions, rushing both hostiles with _Lightning Blade_sin hand. Lucille watched, with some amazement, the way Veemon and that human reversed the situation: the latter avoided a stab from Brock. He was almost pierced by Darryl, but the digimon threw a strong punch to the Modifier's face, knocking him back. The blond skillfully worked his way around Brock's wrist, disarming him, slamming his left, armored arm on the stocky soldier's face, a strong uppercut following it. Veemon climbed the stranger's back, kicking off with a swift headbutt that launched Brock airborne. Darryl had recovered, but any attempts to strike back were thwarted when the blue dragon summoned a black sword—magically, it seemed to Lucy—and slashed the air, shoving Darryl with an invisible attack. Veemon rolled above ground, landing with a slice in Tina, Miles, and Brock's direction.

Lucille pulled her yellow hair back, departing the scene. Veemon and that human's teamwork were not easy to forget. To her surprise, it impressed her, and that wasn't good. Some time together would definitely fortify their combination, already formidable enough had Veemon been able to evolve. To Lucy's comfort, **that** was unlikely—impossible, rather. She knew everything there was to know about Daisuke. For her, one thing was certain. _They'll __**never**__ see each other again_.

Now she understood why Aldo's team failed to achieve their objectives, to even respond to their calls. Now she understood the severity of Kikuchi's broadcast. Lucy was heavily tempted to turn around and fight; she discarded the thought—the status of Aldo's team must be verified, their equipment retrieved or destroyed. She only hoped six soldiers were enough to bring that combination down, especially that lizard. How it escaped death, she'd never know. But the fact it was here in the Satellite Base meant someone up there liked it.

* * *

_I'm sorry. _

_Lord Veemon, I'm so sorry…_ Commandramon was aghast at the revelation from their captive. To think he was responsible for this mess! All this time, he thought it was that Christopher who betrayed them all; Commandramon had doubted Veemon's judgment, unwilling to listen to him and trust the human he brought to the Satellite Base. Leomon, Stingmon, or even the others would've treated him differently—more kindly—had he supported the blue dragon in the first place.

_It was so obvious!_ He slapped his own face. _Why didn't I realize this when I woke up beside that vending machine? _Commandramon slid down the wall, sinking further in his depression.

"Put yourself together." Wormmon called over, ambling away from the toilet. He was eyeing the military dinosaur slumped next to the gap in the wall overlooking the hallway. Commandramon gazed up into those cerulean eyes, each orb radiating with empathy and kindness.

"L-Lord Wormmon…"

"Nothing would've changed, even if we gave Christopher better treatment," admitted the Digimon of Kindness. He sighed. "I, I had second thoughts when Veemon defended him like that. He's reckless, naïve, and childish… _but_ courageous, well-principled, and a good judge of character, just like his partner." He paused. "But Veemon wasn't there, the last time we—I—accepted an outsider."

"I heard the story from Leomon awhile back," muttered Commandramon. The memory was clear: a night spent in the Mess Hall with Commandramon and Leomon grumbling about Veemon's disposition towards humans… while he was asleep in his room, of course.

It was a saddening story. Before Ken and Wormmon found Veemon on File Island, an outsider fresh from the human world, lost and confused, without even a digimon partner to guide him, had made first contact with one of the monsters under them. Ken had his reservations, but Wormmon pitied him, bowling the Digimon Tactician over with his own kindness.

The end result was, for lack of better adjectives, **disastrous**: the permanent destruction of the Primary Village, a crucial location on the Digital World's File Island where birth and rebirth take place. Veemon would've witnessed the great betrayal with Leomon if he didn't accompany Koushirou, seeking Gennai for his own reasons.

Veemon was never told the truth behind those disturbing events.

Naturally, this experience traumatized Wormmon the most, and had left him quite reluctant in accepting outsiders since then. Christopher Van Numen was the second. Though the blue dragon had accepted him, those who remembered Primary Village hesitated, requiring more information for deliberation. Yet Veemon was unable to defuse _their_ suspicion, and his responses before the interrogation were at best, dubious. Chris's secrecy on his business in the Digital World did not help him. Was it any wonder that Leomon, Commandramon, and Wormmon (as Stingmon) laced Christopher's interrogation with damning prejudice?

"I have my regrets," rejoined the Digimon of Kindness. "We all make mistakes, Commandramon, but we shouldn't succumb to them."

He gave the military dinosaur a warm smile. "Don't let it eat you."

.

Commandramon understood, and appreciated the Chosen's advice. "Thank you, Lord Wormmon." _He's right. I should move on._

Relinquishing his compunction completely, the military dinosaur began with a single question, "By the way, have you learned anything from the captive?" referring to Aldo.

Wormmon's response was lengthy, describing the Modifiers' digivices. It was basically similar to those wielded by the Chosen Children: a neural technology. The primary difference was that it worked similarly to Christopher's Scanner, enabling the user to activate the digital modification with mere thoughts. Being an experimental weapon, so far there were no limits to its potential, save for the digivice's battery power and the user's imagination and faith in the modifications, which are temporary at best, with varying durations. The modification process, in fact, was described in the vein of the Chosen's method of evolving their digimon partners: using their emotions, unwavering faith in their partners, and, of course, a desire for strength in the darkest moments.

The Modifiers' digivice was subject to three weaknesses, the first two easy to figure out: battery depletion and instant death. The third wasn't so subtle, but it explained why the Modifiers needed the catch-lock mechanism on their wrists. Commandramon had thought they were there to keep the digivice close to them at all times, to prevent theft. A look of shock washed over him when Wormmon reported that **constant skin contact **was necessary for the user and the digivice's perfect synchronization pre-modification.

"You know what that means, Commandramon?" Wormmon asked him, ogling him with his blue eyes.

"We rip off the digivice, we take away their power."

"Yes."

Commadramon found it ridiculous. _Some weakpoint. It's easier said than done._ The Modifiers could modify their bodies to have temporarily heightened strength and agility. Furthermore, they were soldiers, trained for efficient and merciless combat. The catch-lock mechanism was engineered such that they can make modifications in a split-second. Even more depressing was the fact the Modifiers could easily modify the catch-lock device itself.

The military dinosaur steeled himself. _At least it's better than nothing. _

"I'm going back." Wormmon started for the toilet once more.

"You're not done yet?" Commandramon then realized the worthlessness of this question: Wormmon had only acquired some information on the Modifiers' digivice. Many questions remained unanswered, after all.

"Just needed a break and…" He glanced back at Commandramon. "I think you needed help."

His lips formed a little grin. "Thanks again, Lord Wormmon." Truly the Digimon of Kindness lived up to his name.

As the little worm returned to his interrogation, Commandramon left the Clinic, entering the medical supplies room across the double doors. There was one gun stored in there for emergencies. Though the Command Center was virtually the safest place to be in at the moment, Commandramon felt naked unarmed. A careful search in the room bared a Glock and several magazine clips. The handgun wasn't much. _It's enough for some security_, thought the military dinosaur, pocketing the loaded firearm in his Beretta's holster.

* * *

Lucy entered the Command Center as soon as she arrived, through one of the side entrances. Hitting a branch at the hallway, she panned left, seeing the other end wrought with signs of battle. There was a stairwell beside it. Lucille moved towards it surreptitiously, gun raised. A digimon could be hiding anywhere. _Best to be on-guard._ A body lay next to the stairs. Lucy recognized the dark blue uniform, and its human form.

A fleeting gaze confirmed Haseo as one of the dead, with a gruesome slash running across his torso, from shoulder to abdomen. Blood of a mixed green and red was pooled on the floor, cold and drying. The stairwell had a large hole right at the top, with the rubble gathering directly below it. The floor itself was strewn with little pieces of the concrete wall separating the hall from the room next to her. Lucy heard voices floating down from above. They were illegible, but she knew Aldo's voice when her ears registered it. Obviously the digimon were interrogating him, questioning for game-breaking information.

_Upstairs!_ Lucille Diaz dashed upstairs, too determined to save the Sergeant to even notice Floramon crying in the Mess Hall.

* * *

Christopher and Veemon, somehow, routed the Modifiers' strategy. Brock and Darryl were repelled; Mark and Jed were forced to take cover. Miles and Tina's counterattacks, nullified. The battle was getting intense, but that was just the beginning.

All six were recovering, and it was simply a matter of time before both of them were defeated, at least, not until their weakness was found first. Veemon couldn't count on Chris for this—he was _far_ too ruthless for that. The only thing stopping him from shooting to kill was his respect for the blue dragon's beliefs. Why he protected him until now was paradoxical, but the more he thought about it, the more his interest in Chris's past piqued. He was hiding something, something he wouldn't share if given the choice. It reminded Veemon of the time he and Daisuke parted in the Digital World, three years ago. But… that was a memory to sift through another day. This moment just wasn't apposite.

Surrounding them from all sides, making efficient use of cover and each other's cooldown, and eliminating all those close to Christopher and himself, the Digimon of Miracles found it increasingly difficult to even maneuver evasively. Five Modifiers armed with black guns meant multiple firing angles; Darryl's second FN SCAR connoted debilitative abilities. Not even the teamwork they had were enough to cut it, so long as Christopher refrained from using his gun in Veemon's presence. _Anyway_, mused the dragon, _we'd still be in trouble._

Miles and Mark, amid the gunfire of their comrades, bolted for close quarters, still firing their own weapons as they approached. They came from two different sides amid raining spheres. When their guns overheated, these two ceased fire, igniting their arms with either fire or electricity.

Chris, sensing their approach, unholstered his gun, feeling the threat to his own life as he reeled from desperation. Veemon, observing, wished Daisuke was here. _He'd know what to do. _Darryl came close, ducking under an orb from Brock and hurled an electrified fist at him. The dragon shuffled, avoiding both attacks by a margin, kicked him back and thrust the sword at his abdomen, knowing it'd heal regardless. Suddenly, Christopher slammed into him from the left, thrown by Miles after avoiding his line of fire. "Agh!" The DITE and gun slipped out of their grasps.

"**FINISH THEM!**" roared Tina, her purple eyes sparkling with a victorious high.

"BLUE THUNDER!" Bellowed Darryl, launching the paralyzing grenade at the fallen hostiles.

"D-MODIFY!" yelled Miles and Mark simultaneously, pulling the second triggers on their guns.

"W-We, we're done for…" stammered Veemon. They were too powerful as a group. The Modifiers' strength and speed were overwhelming, their tactics superior. Even Christopher, with his gun, his gauntlet, his DITE, and even his superhuman abilities, lost, though the Chosen guessed they would've had a better chance of winning if the blond wasn't still recovering from the injuries he's had since his arrival in the Digital World…

Calloused hands weary of battle grabbed the Chosen's sides. He stared at Christopher as he lifted him, his goldenrod eyes unwavering despite the situation. "Stupid! Don't be so pessimistic." Without a single, considerate warning, he shoved his hands into Veemon's white belly.

"Whhooooaaaa!" Veemon felt his stomach drop, finding himself airborne. "You could've **warned** me!" he snapped. Chris didn't rebut, whipping around on all fours, smashing his fist down, dismantling the ground into large chunks catapulting into the air. They were intended to act as shields, as the gauntlet provided too small an area for defense against an attack of this caliber. As the blue dragon's ascent slowed, he eyeballed the white, ornate staff on Christopher's back.

Seeing it stirred a recent memory: a puzzling one, too. Chris once was ready to wield it, earlier, on their way to the Satellite Base. How could Veemon forget the unbridled fear and desolation glazing his eyes?

And now, now that he was in mortal danger _again_, he abstained from its use. _Why? Why won't he use it?_

This pondering was interrupted by a brilliant flash of electricity all around Chris, rendering him immobile. His height granted a good view of the situation: the green energy converged on his position from three directions, eating easily the propelled soil. A massive blast exploded, engulfing the entire zone. "Chris!"

Suddenly, Veemon realized the fatal flaw in his friend's attempt to spare him from this onslaught. "I'm open!" he hissed, crimson eyes darting left and right as his descent commenced, searching urgently for any attacks. The Modifiers were hidden, camouflaged by the night. Where were they? Where're they going to shoot from? How was he going to dodge? He readied the DITE—but it wasn't in his hands; He dropped it!

A maddening thought lingered. _How will I fight back?_

* * *

There was no escape for Aldo Kikuchi.

He was getting increasingly worried. The Digital Monsters had information on the d-modification process; worse, they now know the **weakpoint** of the Modifiers. It would be difficult to exploit, but that vulnerability was still there, nonetheless. Wormmon had left him, and even now he could still hear him conversing with Commandramon outside.

His teammates were dead. Teams Alpha and Omega were carrying out their tasks. Lucille was busy managing the overall flow of the battle. Colonel Reeves… well, that bastard wasn't likely to do something as tedious as a rescue. It dawned on Aldo: _no one's gonna rescue me!_

"Shit," he cussed.

His usefulness was rapidly waning. Aldo only knew how the digivices worked. Vice Chairman Mitsuo Yamaki's vision for this Modifier project would be something only Lucille, Reeves, Ivy, or Junko would know, being the very first participants in this endeavor. **Obviously** he wouldn't know how this would run with DSI's organizational vision-mission.

Well, there _was_ one other thing hasn't been asked yet: the beginnings of this project. It had an insidious side to it; its origins established in the one thing that catapulted Yamaki into infamy **mere hours** into his first day at the organization! It was something every person inquisitive of the Vice Chairman's profile would know. After all, who **wouldn't** want to learn why _everybody _called him the _"Divine Assault"_?

Aldo knew, once he rats this out, the Digital Monsters would have a very big secret in their hands. Worse, with his lack of knowledge, he'd be **worthless**, wanted for nothing but the very meat clinging to his bones. Commandramon would be _agog_ to toss him out to whoever will survive the Midnight Assault. Digimon from the Digital World were known to be enthusiastic **and** ruthless in killing humans unassociated with the Chosen Children; only the Chosen's digimon partners were exceptions to this rule, though Wormmon hovered quite close to crossing that line.

The door before him creaked open, revealing the light of the Clinic before him. Aldo saw the little worm opening the door with a single claw. Under different circumstances, anyone would've called it cute, seriously, even if it came from someone who despised monsters all his life.

"Where were we?" questioned the Chosen.

With that, the second half of the interrogation has begun. Wormmon was quick to begin, not even hesitating to cite his reasons as soon as possible. "You Modifiers attack like Fladramon and Lighdramon," stated the Digimon of Kindness, his high-pitched voice carrying tremendous curiosity. "Why?" he asked, searching for some answer that could bring some sense into this mystery.

Aldo wasn't going to let this little question snatch his last piece. "Why the concern?" Kikuchi countered, stalling. "You know how it works, how it's been made. Why bother asking about this?"

His interrogator responded, "For Veemon."

The scout glared. _He's figured it out._

"Your digivices are connected to him somehow," replied the green worm. "I _know _it."

"Really," feigned the sergeant, employing sarcasm. "And you think I'd know this?" He had to deceive his interrogator as long as he could. "Fool." The added insult was laden with as much hatred as he can place in a single word. "You have the wrong man."

"SILK THREAD!" It came without warning. The sliver zipped past him, brushing Aldo's neck. Sweat rolled down his cheek. Wormmon, kind as he was, was adamant in solving the mysterious connection between his friend and his enemies, all for the former's sake. Kikuchi couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not. _Damn. _"Don't lie," muttered the Chosen, his antenna twitching.

_Effing bugs and their little…!_

"Please don't make it so difficult, Kikuchi," begged his interrogator. "Just answer—" His antenna twitched. Again. And again. A faint gasp escaped his lips as Wormmon retreated, forgetting to close the door behind him. Aldo strained to eavesdrop on the two monsters outside.

"L-Lord Wormmon, what's wrong?"

"No time! We've got an—"

"OOF!"

Sounds of gunfire chimed. Nothing could've placed a bigger smile on the scout's face: rescue was coming. Somone was **actually** going to liberate him from this hellhole!

_Hallelujah!_

* * *

Commandramon wasn't given priornotice when a panicky Wormmon pounced on him, sinking his little body into the military dinosaur's vest, flooring him. Bullets inches long whizzed centimeters above his snout, embedding themselves in the concrete. _The enemy!_ He peeped leftward, astonished to see a lone Modifier rush them, holding nothing but that black gun. Commandramon recognized her easily as Lucille, the woman who would've killed Veemon back at the Spire if he didn't employ that reckless missile ride.

"Lord Wormmon!" roared the military dinosaur, taking out the Glock as he hid behind the wall. "Get behind me!" He popped out of cover, ready to countershoot the one Modifier. A thick mist of smoke hovered in the corridors, filling the hallway. _Crap, smoke grenade!_

A fist wrapped in blue suddenly emerged from the smoke, buttressed by agility and silence, striking Commandramon's snout. He was hurled into the air, flying towards the wall. It was a stroke of luck that he landed on one of the beds instead. Respite, however, did not await him just yet. Lucille showed herself at last, running straight into the hole. She raised her gun upon seeing the military dinosaur.

Wormmon attempted to assist, attacking from her blind spot. "STICKY NET!"

She saw the attack coming, and undid the catch. The Digimon of Kindness shouted at once. "Commandramon! Shoot the digivice!"

Lucille, hearing this, sprayed her gun aimlessly in Commandramon's direction, forcing him to roll to the floor. "D-Modify: KNUCKLE FIRE!" With a swish of her arm, she incinerated Wormmon's netlike threads and went so far as to throw fireballs at him. One almost struck the Chosen directly; this close call roused the dinosaur.

"LORD WORMMON!"

* * *

"Kch!" _So they know our weakpoint!_ Lucy laced Commandramon's position with bullets, thwarting the Chosen's pathetic attempt to ensnare her in his web.

Wormmon's presence was completely unexpected, and something she didn't welcome with relish. Reeves and Aldo would've felt their blood boil with excitement upon laying eyes on this crucial target. Lucille, however, felt rage when she saw the worm. How much information did he extract? What secrets did he learn from Sgt. Kikuchi?

Arm still aflame, she flung several balls of fire at the Chosen. Commandramon's strength returned, crying his leader's name with such fervor it startled even the seasoned veteran Lucille Diaz. The military dinosaur chose not to engage in a firefight—a rational decision, given the risk for friendly fire—closing in instead. "STRIKE CLAW!"

Lucy tried to shoot, but her gun was parried. Her opponent's movement undeterred, he easily broke into a powerful dash, elbow out. Commandramon's retaliation connected, knocking the Modifier into the air, all the way back into the hallway. In-flight, she undid the catch one more time. _You'll pay, asshole._ She retrieved one of her frag grenades, tossing it into the room. As soon as the ball left her hand, Lucy summoned the blue lines of energy, utilizing her heightened strength to reverse her momentum and backflip to an upright, standing position, rifle poised.

She wasn't comfortable with the new weapon. It was riddled with imperfections. **Dangerous** imperfections. Its crystallized core of pure energy (she reckoned), had a devastating toll on the digivice's battery, its capacity for friendly fire paramount, unmatched by no other in terms of the damage it could produce. The fact that it can **only** be used via digital modification entailed the risks of wastage, and was damning evidency to problems unsolved by Yamaki's engineers, problems that **must** be addressed before the weapon could become standard throughout the DSI.

Electric bullets were the way to go, she thought. The barrel was modified, electrifying anything passing through it. Though she had to keep her precious device in her palm, it was safe from interference, from any attempts of the enemy to exploit the Modifiers' one true weakness, now that they know it.

The smoke was beginning to clear. An explosion thundered from the Clinic's direction. It was safe to assume that the two monsters inside had been hurt somehow—she saw Commandramon _actually_ take the time to kneel before the cowering worm and extend a helping hand. But assumptions were empirically infamous for their unreliability. In one of his novels, Stephen King once quipped, "The word 'assume' makes an ass out of you and me."

Veemon had survived, holding his own against six Modifiers with a new, unidentified human ally. The blond intruder was probably nothing like the weakling he appears to be, having been responsible for Aldo's distress broadcast. Of course, all these augmented the case: assumptions had no place in this battle, in this Midnight Assault, no matter who the enemy was.

Lucille Diaz crouched, hugging the corner next to a large hole that led to a small room filled with rubble and broken bits of a chair and table. Her rifle, cocked, was trained on the Clinic, eyes awaiting signs of life. She was ready for anything.

* * *

Commandramon turned to Wormmon after knocking Lucy away. The Digimon of Kindness was cowering in the corner, obviously unused to fighting in his Child form, unlike Veemon whose 3-year separation from his partner forced some adaptation. Despite this, his blue eyes burned with bravery.

He tendered his hand to the Chosen, allowing him to jump on and scurry to a precarious perch on his shoulder. And not a moment too soon: a grenade bounced off the floor, rolling to a stop right beside his feet. _Shit! _The military dinosaur raced for a nearby bed and lifted it 'til it stood on its side just as it exploded. The bed took the brunt of the blow, pushing him and Wormmon back.

The Chosen's antenna twitched. "She's moving."

_Like I need to know! _Dismissed Commandramon, letting one remark leak, "Right." He peeked out of cover, only to see Lucy train the black rifle on him and fire. Instead of green energy like Aldo and Kazuki before her, _regular bullets_ were shot, whizzing past his head. They didn't seem strange for Commandramon, until a bullet that grazed Wormmon's antenna, piercing a thin area of the bed. This signaled otherwise; the green worm twitched suddenly.

The bullets kept coming, hammering the right side. Commandramon, having an idea of Lucy's location, popped out from its left and retaliated immediately. "Lord Wormmon, if you want anything else out of that Modifier," he alluded to Aldo, barking with a voice raised from necessity, "you better get back to him right now!" He picked up the Chosen and nonchalantly tossed him to the other side, away from Lucy's line of vision. "I'll buy you some time!"

He eyed the other hole, probably the one Christopher and Aldo made during their intense battle. Commandramon's strategy appeared flawless: flank the Modifier from behind, divest her digivice if possible.

Another glimpse of the corridor let him catch a netlike web being applied over the hole. "STICKY NET!" Commandramon gazed at Wormmon; he did the military dinosaur a favor, layering the hole with webbing.

"Go," they uttered **simultaneously**. It startled him for a second, but this was dismissed with a nod from Commandramon. There was no time to waste. He bolted out the other hole as Lucy activated her digivice.

* * *

Floramon, still reeling from shock, continued to weep. How many digimon were killed in this place? Who would emerge from this ambush alive? It terrified her to think of the answers to these questions.

An explosion and some gunfire above snapped Floramon from her delusion. A battle was going on upstairs. She eyed the large opening on the ceiling. The thought of another friend dying compelled her to act. Floramon whipped her flower-like hand, sending out a yellow stigma towards the gap.

* * *

Tina Fujieda had her sights set on Veemon. Honestly, she _was _startled by Chris's last-minute defense, intending to bear the brunt of the green energy and spare the Chosen from risks of instant deletion. There was a fatal flaw in the stranger's plan, one Veemon just realized. _Too late_. Squinting her purple eyes, she took aim and pulled the second trigger.

Her rifle whined. _Only moments between now and deletion_.

The radio in her ear cracked into life. "T-Tina!" It was Mark's voice. "Digimon are flanking us from **all sides**!"

She was dumbfounded. _W-what? _Movement around her proved Mark's sudden report. She stayed her aim on the now-descending Veemon, trying to make the most of her vanishing opportunity. _Just one shot. One shot!_

"CRESCENT DAWN!" Tina saw the attack coming and aborted her final attempt to destroy the Chosen, backpedaling. If she didn't, she would've lost both arms **instantly** to a grizzly bear's enormous claws. She directed her weapon on Grizzmon, who swiped it off her hands. The violet bear stood on his hind legs, and readied a fierce strike with his fearsome hands.

Tina undid the catch and sent an uppercut just as her fist went aflame, blue energy coiling around it. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" Grizzmon was knocked back slightly, disturbing his attack. The distraction was long enough for Tina to modify her legs and hightail it to the black rifle several feet from her.

Before she could even retrieve the firearm, a long, red vine twisted around her legs, clamping them tight. Its green, bulbous end was fitted with small, green spikes, digging into her skin as Tina fell. She followed the vine until her purple eyes gazed at a child-sized blood-red turnip, with intimidating black tattoos around what was probably its face. Sharp, jagged teeth jutted out its cackling mouth. "Got you, human!" He whipped his other arm back as far as he could, simultaneously lifting Tina by the legs, turning her literally into a punching bag. "RED THORN!"

Tina gazed down. Her gun was just two feet beyond her grasp. _Dammit. _She undid the catch once more. "D-Modify: FIRE ROCKET!" The blazing fire enveloping her body was too hot for the digimon, forcing it to let go. Its attack passed by harmlessly above her legs. As she fell, however, Grizzmon exploited his advantage, lunging at her. "CRESCENT—ARRRGGGHHH!"

Gunshots had preceded the bear's pained roar. She snatched up her gun and, aiming directly at RedVegiemon, opened fire, peppering him with high-power, armor-piercing bullets. Tina found her savior running towards her, somewhat crouched. It was Darryl. He had interrupted Grizzmon's finishing blow without resorting to the energy weapon; the injured bear struggled to stand, leaving Darryl to aim his gun at him.

Tina raised her hand, gesturing him to stop. She d-modified the second trigger into existence, training the weapon on Grizzmon, deleting him. _That's for interrupting me._ She turned her eyes on where Veemon and Chris were; they were gone.

"Darryl, what happened? Where're the Tangoes?"

"No idea," responded the man. "They disappeared after we were attacked."

"Dammit!" cussed Tina, stomping a nearby tree in frustration.

The female Modifier pressed the button on her earset, addressing the others. "Alpha, Omega, do you copy? What's your status?"

Both teams had emerged unscathed from the sudden ambush. Surprised, but relatively unharmed. However, the targets, Chris and Veemon, had vanished during the distraction. The straggling digimon had apparently done their job quite well, but Tina wasn't going to let those two get away.

"Spread out!" she instructed. "They couldn't have gone far! Notify the others of your position once you got a visual!" Tina undid the catch, bestowing her eyes with a thermal night vision similar to cameras employing forward-looking infrared thermal imaging, before commencing her search. "Don't forget to activate thermals," she barked.

Whoever saved them was going to be found wherever they were taken, and will be dealt with mercilessly. Tina swore it.

* * *

B206 had arrived in the nick of time. It took a little long to find and gather stragglers willing to save the Chosen from death, even if it meant their lives, but in the end, he managed to find about twelve, with Grizzmon and RedVegiemon among them. When they arrived at the barracks, B206 found Christopher and Veemon being overwhelmed by the six Modifiers, and was literally a matter of time before they were killed. He had the few monsters with him distribute themselves accordingly, keeping stealth utmost importance until the last moment, something they had to determine for themselves.

Everyone acted independently, on their own accord, when Chris shoved the blue dragon up into the air seconds before all the green energy converged into a massive explosion right on his position. They interrupted the Modifiers' attempts to kill the Chosen, giving time for B206 to run towards Veemon. He was aware the twelve he gathered won't be returning to Centarumon with him—the disruption was a suicide attack, through and through. B206 shrugged off these regrets, knowing their deaths won't be in vain so long as Veemon survived.

He found the blue dragon pulling something towards the nearest tree trunk. B206 was shocked to see Christopher _still alive_, but with barely anything covering his blood-covered torso. The blond's hand dragged his white staff across the forest floor as Veemon tugged with difficulty. Chris was breathing, still dazed from the blast. "Lord Veemon!"

"Guardromon!" cried the dragon, _very_ happy to see B206.

"We're regrouping with Centarumon."

"Mmm!" nodded Veemon, shooting a glance at Chris. "Ummm, I need some—"

Guardromon B206 preempted the Chosen's request for assistance with Chris. Centarumon wanted to see him; Veemon probably wouldn't have left him alone, since "they were friends". Personally, seeing Chris spare him from the Modifiers' overwhelming assault moved B206. He couldn't leave the man now that he'd done the Digital Monsters a great service.

B206 lifted Christopher from the ground, carrying him with his steel arms. He wasn't heavier than the average adult person. Veemon, after picking up a silver gun and a black piece of metal from the floor, took his seat on B206's shoulders. Chris's white staff dangled, slowing their progress. Guardromon decided against using his built-in jetpack—this would definitely reveal their position to the Modifiers who were probably searching for them at the moment.

"Lord Veemon, hold that staff for me," he requested.

"Yeah." He moved to B206's arms. Luckily, they were stout enough for him to sit on. His blue hand grasped the inch-thick weapon and lifted it up—the only problem was, he couldn't do that! He struggled to raise it, but nothing happened, as if the staff was cumbrous. This was a bizarre occurrence, as B206's sensors indicated its light weight.

"What're you doing?" It was difficult to hide annoyance.

"Sorry, Guardromon!" replied the dragon, now pulling with both hands. "But it's **too heavy**!"

_You're so useless!_ "Keep trying." He examined Veemon's struggle to simply elevate the staff above ground. The muscles bulging on his deceptively slender arms were a clear display of the effort he was putting into this. _He's not lying_. Seeing this puzzled B206: how could such a light weapon be too heavy for someone as strong as Veemon to carry?

Fortunately, Christopher had recovered, pulled up the staff, and carried it himself. "Nnhh, what happened?"

"Can you walk?" asked B206.

He got up. "Yeah." They stopped, letting Chris stand on his own feet. He wobbled, though managed his balance. Resuming their way, he grabbed the thin branches of a nearby bush, straightened it out with his bare hands, wrapping it around his back. Feeling its sting on his wounds, he cringed, even as he inserted the staff through the makeshift strap. Nothing else was on his torso; his pants were tattered, reduced to knee-length. The gauntlet on his left arm was surprisingly pristine.

"Where we going?" he finally asked.

"Regrouping with Centarumon," replied B206.

"Centarumon?"

"You'll know when we get there," he responded, pointing to very thick underbrush close to the concrete perimeter. Centarumon hid there, along with some digimon who thought it best to hide, attacking only during opportune moments. The Guardromon spoke no more.

Veemon jumped off B206's arms and returned Christopher's gun, stowing the black metal on his utility belt. They began conversing, one B206 did nothing but listen to.

"Who's Centarumon?" Chris uttered.

"A captain under Leomon," retorted the dragon. "He's been here waaaay before I transferred here."

"Ow-key," he acknowledged, obviously disinterested. That Veemon didn't seem to mind left B206 speechless. "So, how'd we end up with him?" He could feel Chris's finger pointed in his direction.

"Guardromon rescued us," Veemon recounted. "Close call, huh?"

"Alone?"

"Some friends helped." B206 could tell he was smiling.

"Where're they now?"

That question wiped off whatever smile Veemon had on his face. "Uhhm…" The dragon had correctly guessed what required their survival: the sacrifice of his and B206's friends. "They… they…" Until now it bothered him to think his life—and Chris's as well—was worth more than these casualties, these friends. B206 couldn't help but sneak a little gaze, noticing Veemon bowing his head, unable to say another word. So ostensible was his guilt and disappointment B206 regretted looking back.

Christopher patted the dragon's back, letting his hand rest on Veemon's shoulder. "C'mon, Vee. No use moping over this." His voice carried the weight of experience behind it, a feeling of real loss. This empathy couldn't be more genuine.

"O, okay," the blue dragon acquiesced, sounding better. Chris's simple words were enough to keep him moving; the sympathetic tone that delivered them consoling, even making B206 feel better about the monsters' sacrifice.

Though Christopher's allegiances and true motives were murky at best, B206 was confident he wouldn't turn against Veemon, not after what he saw and heard. Odd, really, considering humans generally hesitate from placing weight, great or small, on newly-made friendships. In other words, at this point, they were technically allies. After all, can't the enemy of an enemy be a friend?

* * *

Commandramon cautiously carried a low profile, his hands clutching the Glock next to his head, trembling. He stopped at the corner, at the intersection leading to either the War Room or the stairwell. Lucy was most likely hiding towards the right, preparing to breach the Clinic while Wormmon, unguarded, attempted to extract the information he needed.

Inching towards the edge, he leaned his head slightly, taking a peek. As he predicted, Lucille Diaz was there, with her back towards him. Flames on her arm flickered into oblivion. Wormmon's webbing was probably burned off by now, and if Commandramon didn't act soon, the extra time he intended to give the Chosen would be lost.

Stretching his right hand, he aimed carefully at the yellow-haired woman, his arm running along the wall. Success needed a precise shot. He had to hit either the head—for instant kill—or the digivice—for permanent disarmament. Everything depended completely on this one shot. Missing these crucial weakspots would damage her, or alert her to this sneaky flanking. Either way, she'd then be in a position to retaliate. Commandramon's orange eyes spotted slivers of blue energy appearing over her entire body, revolving endlessly so long as she maintained the modification.

_Where's the digivice? _He wondered, squinting. Seeing it in her hands gave Commandramon no choice but to aim for the back of Lucy's head. The military dinosaur pulled the Glock's trigger slowly, steadying his aim, clutching his right arm for support.

A single bullet burst out from the gun, flying swiftly to his target.

* * *

Aldo was no longer afraid of Wormmon, even when he returned from the Clinic. He had heard Lucille's voice in the hallway, crying out her digital modifications. As one of its first users, she was the most proficient out of all the Modifiers, capable of protecting herself against the weaknesses of using the digivice. Col. Reeves outranked her slightly, but that didn't mean her leadership potential was meaningless. Now that he thought about it, Yamaki **ignored** her protests against this sudden ambush mission, as if he _wanted_ Col. Reeves to take this mission. Albert was after the high ranks, after all, for the fringe benefits and the salary. What was the Vice-Chair thinking?

Further speculation was disrupted by a rudely spat spittle of thread from the little worm, now demanding to know the connection between Veemon and the Modifiers. _Like I'd answer_, _fool._ What kind of an idiot did Wormmon think he was? Commandramon was probably trying to buy time, but in the end it wouldn't work. She had spent **years** combating both digimon and people in the Real World. With the power of digital modification in her hands, a mere ambush was unlikely to kill her.

One gunshot resounded, coming from the hallways. It came from the dinosaur, and was an attempt to flank Lucille. He gathered some spit in his mouth and spat on Wormmon, cursing him, ridiculing his attempts to extract information on the last minute.

Wormmon was just about to retaliate with another silk thread when Lucy herself appeared at the doorway, glowering behind the Chosen. She grabbed him before he could even dodge and threw him to the wall so forcefully it stunned the Digimon of Kindness. "Too easy," Aldo heard her mutter. Kikuchi concurred.

* * *

Lucille Diaz knew something was happening behind the web that obscured whatever was happening inside the Clinic. She even saw Commandramon toss Wormmon so callously to the other side, out of her line of fire. Something was going on, and she didn't like it. Modifying her arm to generate flames, she chucked a couple of fireballs to disintegrate the webbing and stacked up next to the gap on the wall, gun ready.

She glimpsed behind her, following the wall with her eyes. Lucy noticed the break in its path, denoting a corner, a corner that could possibly be used for back attacks. Exercising caution, she modified her entire body's physical limits as she inched towards the Clinic. Where would the enemy attack from? The hole in front of her, or the corner _behind_ her?

Gunfire from behind gave her the answer, and without looking back, she leaned her head to the right, actually seeing the bullet whiz graze her cheek, drilling itself into the wall before her. In response Lucy pivoted, pulling the trigger instantly. Commandramon, who dared to attack from her six, was too slow to register the counterattack, receiving bullets on his chest and arms. The combat vest he wore may be enough to dampen her gun's penetration power, but it was completely incapable of shielding against the high voltages her bullets were imbued with. Electrocuted, his body went into multiple spasms that left him unconscious. Lucy heard nothing from him but a fading "Lord Wormmon".

She hurried into the Clinic, unafraid, digivice firmly in her hand. The Chosen was there before her captured comrade, desperate in his rash interrogation, now failing because of the confidence brimming in Sgt. Kikuchi. Wormmon noticed her presence and gyrated. Lucy's hand grabbed the caterpillar's face and hurled him to the wall behind her. "Too easy," she declared, training her gun on him.

"STAMEN ROPE!"

A yellow vine wrapped itself around Wormmon, pulling him out of harm's way. "The hell!" snapped Lucy, jerking right. She saw Floramon next to the hole, cradling the injured digimon in her arms. "DAMN YOU!" the Modifier yelled, opening fire.

The Floramon—_that bitch!_—escaped immediately. Lucille pursued at once, catching her descent into the large hole in the middle of the corridor. One look to the left and she realized Commandramon was also taken! "Effing monsters," she whispered, stepping out to hunt them down.

Before she could do so, Aldo cried out to her. "LUCY!"

Diaz stopped in her tracks. In the heat of the moment she had forgotten her objective. Returning to that bathroom in the Clinic, she modified her arms aflame and burned the webbing that bound the scout, handing to him her sidearm: a silenced SIG P226. "On your feet, Kikuchi."

She supplied 15% battery power to Aldo's digivice, enough for light combat, just in case they ran into the enemy. "What's happening outside?" the scout asked, obviously worried.

"Got any intel on the blond?" she returned. Useful information on that man was needed immediately.

* * *

Veemon was surprised to see a rather large group of digimon hiding in the underbrush Guardromon brought them to. A quick look was reasonable to place forty as an estimate. Most were Child levels: Gazimon, Kunemon, Goblimon, and Elecmon. Of the Adults, only seven Flymon and five Snimon were left, guarding a single digimon in the very center, whose back leaned on the concrete perimeter. Armored plates dotted his centaurian body. Several exhaust pipes stuck out of his humanlike back, complementing his steel Roman-esque helmet. A chain, once handcuffs, dangled eerily off his left hand, clinking as Centarumon beckoned Guardromon, Veemon, and Christopher to approach.

The other digimon had registered Veemon's human companion, eliciting an open disdain. Murmurs swept this small refuge; the Digimon of Miracles could hear bits and pieces of their biased whispers. They mostly pointed to Chris as the originator of the ambush, relaying some regret in not killing him the moment he set foot in the Satellite Base. Angry stares from the digimon pierced the blue dragon, whose decision to take him in became a just cause for their fury. One of the Goblimon, a green ogre-like creature, bared its fangs and stood, raising its large club over its proud, red Mohawk. "HIS FAULT!" he screeched wildly, the foreign accent emphasizing the rage in his voice. "ATTACKED BECUZ-OF YOOOOU!"

"YOU!" two Gazimon chorused, emboldened by the Goblimon's boldness. They raised their claws at Chris, pointing accusingly, rearing their hind legs. "BECAUSE OF YOU!" More Child levels advanced with malevolence in their eyes.

"W-wait! He's with me!" Veemon stammered, stepping in front of Christopher as the vengeful digimon charged. "He's with me!" Suddenly they froze, backing down. The Chosen heaved a sigh of relief. _Whew. _He never noticed the hideous frown plastered on Chris's face, so piercing it frightened the digimon and sapped their audacity away, sending a clear message he would not hesitate to ruthlessly murder anyone who dared to attack. "That was close," remarked Veemon, tapping Chris's forearm. His dark gaze vanished immediately, replaced instead with a fleeting smirk and an agreeing nod.

The digimon parted, creating a direct path to Centarumon. "B206," he ordered. "Guard our backs." He raised his left hand; it was stone-gray, giving it a petrified look. Lifting a finger, he gestured Veemon and Christopher to resume their approach. Veemon glimpsed Centarumon's right hand, a mechanical limb that seemed more like a gun than a hand. There was a yellow glow to it, indicating readiness for sudden movements from Chris. He looked around and saw the same thing as well: most of the digimon around them were still wary of the human.

The Chosen wondered why, glancing up at the man, whose face exhibited apathy to these subtle threats. _They __**still**_ _don't trust him? _The blue dragon pondered. _He's not __**THAT**__ bad_, he mused. Though the memory of Christopher training his gun on him was remarkably astonishing, thinking of the respect he showed for Veemon, the teamwork they exhibited, and the way he fought for his sake eliminated any malicious prejudice the dragon might've had.

"I am happy to see Lord Veemon is alive and well," spoke Centarumon, his deep voice properly enunciated and imbued with a tone characteristic of humble leaders.

"Thanks to Chris!" he blurted, thinking it unfair to let his friends keep blaming him for this midnight assault. _It's time I changed that!_ "He protected me!"

"I've heard," retorted Centarumon; the tone of his response gave away his doubts. Everyone else remained silent. "B206, what do you say?"

The Guardromon, hearing the call, returned from his post, eyes glowing red. Light shot forth, expanding into a holographic screen every monster in the vicinity could see, depicting Christopher and Veemon's desperate fight against the six Modifiers outside. The video clip concluded after the green orbs converged on Chris; B206 revisited his designated position without uttering a single word.

"Why weren't you disintegrated?" posed Centarumon, driven by some curiosity.

"Naturally resistant to the stuff," tapping the holstered gun. "Exposed often to it."

"But why fight them? There's nothing to gain by siding with us."

"They're using **my technology**; I don't know _who the hell_ gave it to them." Chris took out his gun and presented to Centarumon the little hole on the side, revealing the pale green stone within. "Their weapons require crystallized cores like this. I **NEED** information from their commander. They might have... something I'm after."

"Which is?"

"That's none of your business," he curtly replied, the words cold and glacial. He stepped closer and gave Centarumon a rundown of the assault, completely veering the conversation away from his true goals. "At least _eleven_ people were deployed for this attack. Three of them infiltrated the big building and nearly killed Veemon. The remaining eight are two 4-man teams, 75% æther-armed. Two of them have been dealt with." They made eye contact. "What have you discovered so far?"

"Plenty." The centaur digimon summarized the attack, and Veemon could actually imagine it happening on an imaginary, large-scale map. The two western corners of the perimeter suddenly exploded, with the assault teams rushing in weapons-free, pushing forward little by little. Monsters who tried to fight back were either decimated by their weapons, or blasted away by two men providing suppressive artillery fire from a distance. The forward team taken out, he guessed, probably had a role to ambush retreating monsters, trapping them on all sides.

"Their commander's behind the gates," Christopher speculated. "Guarding the rear."

"What makes you so sure?"

"It's the only place left."

Centarumon ruminated over this. An attack plan had to be made. Six Modifiers were left, all but one armed with æther weapons. Two artillerymen were stationed in the rear, blindly shelling the compound. Somewhere behind them was their commander. How were they going to counterattack?

Before Centarumon could even respond, B206 cut in, sprinting from outside. "Centarumon! We've been compromised! The Modifiers have found us!" This announcement instigated chaos into the many Child digimon seeking refuge. Whimpers of fear heightened the tension; Veemon couldn't help but feel dread as well. Time was running out.

Christopher remained collected. "Split into two groups! One goes after the artillery; the other holds off the six. Who here uses ranged attacks?" Hearing the question, B206, and the Elecmon, Goblimon, Kunemon, Flymon, and Snimon stirred to make themselves known. Bravery returned to their faces; someone had a plan, and wasn't afraid at all to face six Modifiers at once.

Centarumon halved the monsters in two: 7 Gazimon, 5 Kunemon, 4 Goblimon, 3 Flymon, and 2 Snimon comprised the attack group. Targeting the artillery were the remaining 4 Kunemon, 4 Goblimon, 3 Elecmon, 4 Flymon, and 3 Snimon. Christopher assigned the leadership: Guardromon B206 and Veemon for the latter, he and Centarumon the former.

"Lord Veemon can't fight from a distance!" the centaur retaliated. "You're sending him to his own death!"

"He's a good shot with a gun," defended Christopher, nonchalant. "**And** he's borrowing my sword. I know he can handle himself."

There was no response. Chris trusted Veemon's combat ability, backing him up. He smiled. _I won't let you down. _That grin faded when he realized one thing: all the monsters deeply hated these soldiers, and Christopher was a ruthless fighter by nature. _They're going to KILL!_

"E-everyone," he stammered. "Guys…"

All the monsters turned to him, staring. Chris glared, frustration smeared on his face. "Not again," it seemed to say.

"A-are you, are you going to **kill** them?"

The monsters ignored him the moment this question left his mouth. There was no time to discuss something like this, not when their lives were at stake. Veemon persisted his questioning. "TELL ME!" he shouted, calling after the diverging groups. B206 waited for him, since he was part of his group. There was disappointment in his eyes. "Are you really—"

Veemon felt a very strong grip on his shoulder. "Ow-ow-ow-owwwww!" Reversing, he found Christopher kneeling down, looking straight into his crimson eyes. "Grrrr! Why'd you—Chris?"

The goldenrod eyes were cold and impassive: he was pissed. "Haven't you noticed the situation here? They're all fighting for survival, while **you** keep on insisting with this stupid, no-killing policy."

"B-but, but, but-I-know they've **got** a weakpoint, Chris! I…"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! When you're fighting for dear life, **at some point **you **will** relinquish your personal beliefs. Betray them. Regardless of how admirable they are!" Veemon shut his eyes. He didn't like hearing this. How could Christopher so callously toss aside the value of a human life like this? _Daisuke'd punch you for that!_ "Snuffing out lives. If it must be done, so be it. I won't waste my effing time looking for some obscure weakpoint unless it's necessary." He rose, leaving the blue dragon to catch up with his group. "Do what you want. I'm not stopping you; you know, it's **wrong** to force your ideals on others, just because you think you're right."

Veemon was speechless, his mouth agape, staring at Chris's back. _T-this isn't about… it isn't…!_ Then the man mumbled. The Chosen couldn't hear all of it, but, it sounded like he was complaining.

.

"…I envy you, Vee," his ears picked up. "Be happy they're not your friends…"

.

The blue dragon followed B206 out of the hidden clearing. He shot one last look back at Christopher. _Just what happened to you?_

* * *

Jed was the one to sight a massive group of survivors hiding in the thick underbrush to the north, utilizing a modification combination of thermal imaging and 20/20 vision. Tina and the others converged on his position in no less than five minutes. The objectives had been narrowed down to two: delete every single monster hiding there, and capture the lone human with them.

"Mark," she ordered. "Take point." It was time to end this battle once and for all. The Modifier went ahead of the group, advancing cautiously. He stacked up behind a tree trunk and peeked out.

"Forward area clear."

"Check our flanks," reminded Tina. "_Always_ check those flanks!" The bushes were getting thicker as they headed further north. A faint, pungent aroma filled this side of the compound. She did _not_ want to know what the hell her nose smelled.

"Hold it," murmured Mark, raising his hand, undoing the catch. "D-Modify." He inched past the large tree trunk, gazing deeper into the forest.

"See anything?" queried Jed.

"Anything?" the Modifier chuckled nervously. "You kidding? There's about **forty** digimon coming out forty meters ahead, separating into two groups."

The number astounded Tina. Forty? Who knew that many actually got away from the initial assault. _This shouldn't be happening. _Their split was bothersome. _What ominous behavior._ What were they planning? A strategic flanking? Or something else entirely?

Contact had to be taken very seriously here. "You're all weapons free," Tina announced. "Use the energy guns if you still can."

"Roger that."

She directed her attention to Darryl. "Darryl, take point. Prepare Fire Rockets. We're starting this with a bang." He obeyed, undoing the catch immediately. "Miles, Brock, head up those trees and cover us from above. Mark, Jed, spread out."

A bead of sweat rolled down Tina's face. They needed to cover as much area as possible for a group this large. Rushing them with guns whining wasn't an option now that Christopher and Veemon were among them. The rookie Modifier positioned herself behind a tree following Darryl's. Failure will not be tolerated, not in this battle.

One minute passed. The soldiers were ready; the digimon were fifteen meters close. Christopher and Centarumon led the small pack. Veemon was nowhere in sight. Everybody was getting tense. _This is it._ Tina exhaled deeply, mentally preparing herself. Fingers went up to her earset.

Two words flew out of their mouth. They were barely audible to the enemy, but crisp and clear to her comrades, each of them waiting like cunning predators.

.

"Mission start."

.

.

.

.

_A small group of survivors head out to combat the Modifiers, aiming to route the Midnight Assault. Veemon and Guardromon B206's group head for their artillery support, while Christopher and Centarumon's slowly walk into Tina's trap. Wormmon had discovered the Modifiers' one weakness, but failed to establish their connection with Veemon due to Lucille's interference, successful despite Commandramon attempting to exploit this weakpoint.  
_

_What will Lucy and Aldo do next? Will Wormmon and Commandramon deliver their findings to the Digimon fighting outside, especially Veemon? Or will the blue dragon find it on his own? How will the ruthless Christopher Van Numen behave, now that Veemon was out of the picture? Coming up next on The Interloper, the conclusion of the Midnight Assault!  
_

* * *

Post-chapter author's notes + replies to reviews (if any):

5] On chapter content: truthfully speaking, the chapter was supposed to end after the battle between Chris/Centarumon/Digimon and Teams Alpha/Omega. Well, at the very least, the lessened delay is a **considerable improvement** on my part and I am actually confident I could finish the Midnight Assault in the next chapter (it maaaaaay turn out to be a very long one though). Looks like I'm gonna be on schedule. Hope I get the time to finish up the next chapter by March; I'm really excited to begin the second story arc ^^

6] Technical notes: Darryl did **not** repair the gun Chris halved in two. He simply picked up a new one from Tsuna's dead corpse. Also, when V-Mon climbed on Chris to kick-off from his shoulders (Lucy's POV), he snatched the DITE from Chris's pocket as he ascended, explaining how he was able to wield the sword.


	8. Biomorph

**Author's Notes:**

[1] Word Count is an eye-popping 21,130 according to MS Word. This is practically equivalent to two chapters even though the battles have obviously been rushed (when you read through them). I did this so I would end the damn Midnight Assault by this chapter. Blame my impatience; I've been wanting to write chapters nine and ten already T_T Anyway, I won't be working another chapter in a while. Perhaps not until mid-May. Plenty of personal agenda, you see.

[2] Despite the rushed quality, I did my best to give you a quality read. Take your time, even if it takes a few days or so. 21K words is something I'd have a hard time reading online myself - it's just as long as an annual report of a company. Well, at least you wouldn't have to go through numbers, right? :)

[3] Got addicted to **FF13 music** while writing this. Listen to "_Desperate Struggle_" for the first battle and "_Eidolons_" for the second one. You can listen to them on youtube. Search it. ^^

[4] As usual, enjoy the chapter! **ALL REVIEWS AND CRITICISMS WELCOME**. In fact, I encourage you to send me a review/critique. It helps maintain or improve the quality of writing, you know.

* * *

It didn't take long for Guardromon B206 to find the northwestern corner of the compound. His powerful nightvision enabled him to see far into the dimly-lit shadows of the forest, granting a spectacular view of the large hole on the concrete wall meters away.

Switching to thermal vision, B206 could make out the silhouette of a human in the distance, perched on a low tree branch. The man, looking out towards their direction, had ceased his indiscriminate bombardment, searching for any signs of life, gun on the ready. He looked back at the other monsters with him, finding only downcast faces.

"We can do it!" chirped Guardromon, his mechanical voice adding a bizarre element to those words. "There's only _one _Modifier!" Various attempts were made to perk their somber mood, but it was largely ineffective. The digimon trudged forward, wary of how this operation will unfold.

Lord Veemon, from experience, normally did all the pep talk—his childish antics and contagious optimism had a tendency to negate the bleakness of a situation. That usually worked so long as nobody provoked him by trying to kill humans in his presence. The blue dragon plodded next to B207, deep in thought: an aberration to common perception. It wasn't difficult to guess what he's thinking—B206 had overheard his conversation with Christopher; though the man's words somewhat captured the current sentiments of the digimon, they were nonetheless quite true.

"Why does everyone doubt me?" B206 heard him growl. "We _can_ win without killing," he muttered. "Looking for weaknesses isn't a waste of time, grr…"

Veemon continued grumbling, throwing around some names (Golemon, Leomon, Commandramon, Wormmon, even Christopher).

Guardromon B206 was just about to tell him off when bright flashes up front caught his attention. The Modifier on the tree branch had seen them, firing grenades every second! B206 barked. "We're being bombarded!" He sidestepped behind a tree and found the man in plain sight. "Take cover and," B206 raised his stout arms, "Return fire!" A couple of missiles flew out the modules on his forearms. "DESTRUCTION GRENADE!"

All the monsters took cover behind the treetrunks. An unfortunate Goblimon, however, was deleted in a large explosion before he could even get to cover. _The grenades are modified! _B206 noted. The Flymon and Snimon, capable of flight, flew out of harm's way and retaliated from a distance.

Guardromon surveyed the remaining monsters. Everyone but the lone casualty was accounted for, everyone but… his eyes darted from left to right. _W-w, where's Lord Veemon?_

Heavy footsteps strode ahead of him, towards the Artilleryman. Peeking out of cover, B206 found the Chosen sprinting forward, trying to hide underneath all the attacks from the digimon as he made his way for the target **alone**. _That stupid—!_ Convincing Veemon to return was out of the question. B206 couldn't risk endangering the others by revealing their positions. But the blue dragon was a Chosen, and from history the most powerful one at that. His survival took precedence over everything else.

"Flymon!" he called. "Cover him!" He glanced at the others, nodding. _We __**have**__ to do this_. They understood the meaning behind this gesture, gulping down their fears, steeling their nerves. Guardromon B206 prepared himself. _If anyone dies, it'll all be his fault, that idiot! _

Once ready, he screamed his order. "ONWARD! GO-GO-GO!"

The Modifier aimed at Veemon, firing a few shots. The Chosen bounced behind a tree and, with his SIG P239, returned fire. Meanwhile, B206 and an Elecmon took point, firing missiles and hurling bolts of lightning. Yet he couldn't help but wonder: _what's wrong with Lord Veemon?_

* * *

Christopher Van Numen finally had his freedom back, ecstatic now that he had practically removed that meddling Veemon from his side. Though until now he failed to understand why he found it difficult to disregard the blue dragon's stupid, innocent ideals or even kill him outright, his absence translated to the exclusion of any restriction to his actions, save for the only one Chris has observed since his arrival in this bizarre, monster-populated universe. His lips curled into a malicious grin, reflecting an inward conviction to obliterate the six Modifiers standing in his way no matter what it took, seek out that elusive Colonel Reeves, and wring out any information relevant to his true goal. Afterwards… well, he'd end up leaving Veemon but that was all for the best, Chris figured.

The Realm Scanner was crucial to victory. He activated it, giving his goldenrod eyes a blue sheen. _Expanded Map. Apply filters: Digimon, Humans, C-Grade Æther. Zoom and center on me. Transparency at 60%._ Familiar dark-blue icons appeared on the map, along with two golden arrows, one moving westward (Veemon) and the other centered on Chris himself. Focusing on the six Modifiers' icon, he noticed a pair deviating from the group, following the Artillery Group to intercept.

Christopher couldn't afford passing up this chance. He pursued them without so much as a prior notice, startling Centarumon and the other monsters. Explosions thundered his rear; they've been caught in a surprise attack. Chris never bothered looking back, intent on murdering the two before him.

"Shirou! Do, you—" Tina's voice. "We've got a big group of digimon rushing Yusaka! Assist him! Jed and I will flank them from—"

"You wish!" roared Chris, kicking her companion into a nearby treetrunk and training his gun at the woman.

* * *

Tina Fujieda saw a group of digimon scurrying in the distance, away from them. She considered maybe it was a ploy to flank the Alpha & Omega teams, mirroring the earlier diversion. However, the size of the group and its direction made it distinct from the one led by Christopher and Centarumon. She glanced toward their [assumed] bearing: west.

A startling realization overcame the Modifier. _They're heading for Yusaka!_ Colonel Reeves and Lucille Diaz were also close to the artillerymen's positions; it wasn't likely for the group to actually defeat them both, but they were likely to overwhelm Omega's lone artilleryman, Yusaka, before they could even help. Artillery held a critical role: suppressing grenade fire. Explosions from multiple _Fire Rocket_ and _Blue Thunder_ grenades would kill any straggler, or at the very least, pin them down until the assault teams come and delete them. Howbeit, who knows how many digimon survived the initial onslaught?

"Jed," she called, using her earset, making little horizontal circles with her fingers, "on me!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Tina started northwestward, intending to catch the second group halfway and obliterate them before they could pose a significant danger to Yusaka. Explosions coming from the close east told her Darryl had begun the offensive. She hoped it was enough to take out a considerable number of opponents.

She directed her eyes on Jed, and found him lacking on modifications. "Jed, don't forget your modifications! _Always_ keep them active!" _Especially now that we're up against multiple digimon __**and**__ 'those two'. _

She undid the catch. "D-Modify!" Blue lines of energy circled her body. She glanced at her digivice right before snapping it back to her wrist. _60%. Better monitor this._ Placing her fingers on her earset, "Shirou!"

No response. "Shirou, do you copy?"

.

"Shirou! **Do**, you—"

"Copy that, Tina. What's the matter?"

"We've got a big group of digimon rushing Yusaka! Assist him! ('Roger that!') Jed and I will flank them from—"

She heard a strong blow fall upon her companion, preceding a loud crash on a nearby treetrunk. Tina veered back, finding the blond fighter's silver pistol _touching_ her face. _Shit!_ She raised her gun and fired in self-defense, but the man had beaten her to the trigger. Tina closed her eyes, wishing the death won't be so painful.

A loud, momentary whine. Someone crying "Oof!"

Tina opened her eyes. Jed stood before her, glaring at Christopher, who he just shoved away at the last moment, messing his aim.

Chris retaliated by firing his gun at them both. Tina and Jed leaped in separate directions. "D-MODIFY!" they screamed in unison. Summoning the second triggers, they shot their common enemy. Chris rushed Tina first, avoiding Jed's gunfire and nullifying Tina's with his gauntlet.

_Tch!_ She undid the catch. "ELECTRIC FIST!" Chris ducked and snuck a couple of shots in Jed's direction (which was remarkably accurate given the heat of the moment), following up with a fierce blow to her solar plexus, knocking all the air out of her. _So strong! _Had her body not been under the protection of digital modifications, Tina guessed she would've been lying on the ground now with a gigantic hole in her belly. She didn't have time to ponder more as Chris subsequently **grabbed her breasts** and slammed her into the ground face-first.

Fortunately, Jed assisted Tina with some cover fire, prevening Christopher from finishing her off. Yet Chris, without even looking at him, aimed and negated Jed's gunfire as if he **knew** where the orbs were coming from! Still, the extra time was enough for a recovery. Tina took out her combat knife, and undid the catch, wrapping the dagger in yellow lightning. She flexed her body and slashed, missing when Chris backed away.

And **that** was exactly what she wanted! "Jed, _now_!"

Her partner responded quickly. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" The blond dodged it easily, again without looking at Jed's direction. However, Tina had modified a _second barrel_ onto her gun and pulled the first trigger. Bullets manufactured to penetrate armor deluged Christopher's body. Knowing he'd emerge unharmed from this, Tina ensured the bullets were modified with explosive properties; the consequent micro-explosions were viewed with a widening smirk. Chris was airborne; she delivered yellow-green energy straight to him. _No escape!_

Christopher turned in midair to meet Tina's orbs with his gauntlet, but Jed neutered this advantage, swooping in from the side with his gun ready to fire at pointblank.

A large insect similar to a praying mantis, however, approached Jed from behind, having broken away from Centarumon's group. _How_ that happened was a mystery. Red markings adorned its shelled head. Clad in an exoskeleton of lush green, the monster flew towards the Modifier with its arms emitting an ominous pink, arms that were nothing more but jagged scythes.

Truly the Snimon was a digimon meant to kill, Tina realized, as it lunged at Jed. Her comrade took notice immediately from the loud buzzing it made with its wings. Christopher welcomed this development with relish, and in a split-second, Tina Fujieda found herself facing Christopher once more, who attempted to gun her down.

* * *

Brock sprung out of cover and rained spheres of energy on Centarumon's group the moment he heard Daryll's grenades go off. Miles, a few trees away, did the same. A gazimon and two kunemon were caught directly in the assault, unable to keep track of everything. Centarumon, however, took cover, having managed to evade both the orbs and the grenades.

Without warning, the branch beneath the stocky Modifier snapped, broken by a ball of fire discreetly hurled by a rather observant Goblimon. Resilient talons took hold of Brock as he fell, tearing into his biceps. He cried in pain, almost failing to notice the ground looming farther and farther. Brock glanced up, noticing how he was being carried by a yellow bee-like insect. "Dammit!" He yelled, thrusting his gun up. The digimon simply whipped around, interrupting his defense. Flymon slammed him into another treetrunk, leaving Brock dazed on a branch. Hovering before him, it trained its crimson-red stinger on him and, "DEADLY STING!"

Brock strained to seek help. Miles was busy deflecting a Snimon's attack, successful after modifying his legs and giving the brute a powerful kick blowing it afar. Only then did he notice Brock's predicament. He hopped towards him, igniting his arm in flames. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" Several fireballs shot out his arm, intercepting the Flymon's stingers moments before it was too late. Some even struck the monster itself. Brock exploited the opening to vaporize the damned insect.

Aware that Miles hadn't defeated the Snimon earlier, he scouted for it. _Where'd it go?_ Flashes of green in the distance (Jed and Tina) revealed a dark silhouette of his target buzzing their way. Brock made an attempt to warn them, or at least, kill the Snimon, but a yellow caterpillar clearly marked by a black lightning pattern running across its body launched a sneak attack, having crept to him surreptitiously from below. Brock raised his gun.

He was too slow. "ELECTRIC THREAD!" A white hard-tipped sting grazed his arm, sending a charge of electricity through his body. Slightly stunned, Brock dropped his gun. It landed a few branches below. Kunemon prepared a more fatal attack, but it was preempted with gunshots from his sidearm. Brock's aim wasn't so accurate, but in two seconds a single bullet struck the larva, and down it fell.

"Miles!" He jumped down for his gun, hoping there wouldn't any be more monsters hiding among the branches. "Cover me!"

In response, a piercing scream captured the air, its feminine tone clearly identifying its owner. _Tina! _Miles' curses flew wildly, such that Brock could even hear them as the Modifier-in-shades hopped from tree to tree to aid the acting leader.

Contemplating this chaos, Brock could only shake his head. Too many things were happening!

* * *

Tina watched Chris spring from a tree, bouning back at her, attempting to slam his fist into her neck. The Modifier veered away at the last moment, firing back as Chris landed on the ground. He rolled to evade the explosive bullets and retaliated with a salvo of pale green. Tina responded likewise, holding the second trigger, letting her weapon fire orbs until it began to overheat.

Her opponent wasn't finished; he began charging forward, exploiting the superiority of his energy projectiles to get close and finish her off. Tina backpedaled, feeling her gun grow hotter and hotter. A little longer and the weapon would melt, leaving her completely defenseless!

She glimpsed Jed successfully fighting off the Snimon that snuck behind him, evading pink scythe-shaped crescents beaming from its arm-sickles. He kicked the insect monster and readied to finish it off. Meanwhile, Tina went behind a tree to hide and,

"POISON RIDE!"

Fujieda glanced up, finding a Kunemon dropping on her with its black stinger carried forward. Tina dove out of the way and peppered the insect with explosive bullets, killing the digimon. _Close one._

"T-t, Tina," floated Jed's voice. It was weak. Following the sound, she focused her eyes on him and found the Modifier airborne, with a disintegrating Snimon before him—clearly a victim of the orbs. To her horror, Jed had a gaping hole on his chest. Christopher had snuck behind him, using the Snimon as a distraction to backstab her comrade and fire multiple orbs of energy into him at point blank. Chris even had his hand tightly clutching the man's head, obviously to prevent any escape. He had charged not to attack her, but to _fool her_ and instead kill her ally!

Tina screamed out his name, aiming the gun at the ruthless stranger.

* * *

"YOU EFFING PRICK!"

Miles approached Christopher from a higher branch, skipping from tree to tree, gun glowing ominously. Anticipating a volley of æther, Chris swung Jed's body from the head and threw the fresh corpse towards the Modifier. It vanished in an instant; Chris leapt to a nearby tree and rebounded to catch the enemy from a second angle, putting up the Scanner as a shield. However, green icons on the map, flying from below, drew Chris's attention to an enraged Tina below.

Retaliation was easy. He whipped around and aimed at his gun, but this reaction occurred a moment too late; Tina's æther landed a direct hit, exploding upon impact and knocking him back towards Centarumon's group, his right hand bloodied, though it still held Chris's precious silver gun.

He landed and regained his footing with a roll or two. Miles was relentless, pursuing him from above, the clear view and his range giving him paramount advantage in both evasion and attack. The Scanner showed Tina to be following close behind. Dispatching the advantaged Modifier took priority. The translucent minimap showed a digimon and Modifier fighting close by; Christopher turned his back on his chasers and headed directly for these two.

No regrets were held in killing the Modifiers. After all, he was used to it. All those deaths he caused, whether they were monsters or men… They amounted to nothing in Christopher's eyes. Absolutely nothing.

Darryl and a Gazimon were fighting hand-to-hand next to a freshly disintegrating corpse of another digimon Chris failed to see in his ignorance. Already he could see a chance to kill that Modifier hiding up the trees. Firing a few shots at Darryl, the Modifier ducked and rolled out of the way, narrowly missing, to Chris's chagrin. The rabbit-like Gazimon wheeled around, apparently grateful. "Thanks, bud"—Chris yanked him by the ears and threw him towards Miles as he caught up.—"W-w-what're you **DOING**?"

Christopher himself leaped right after Gazimon, shadowing his body, lifting the Scanner once more. "We-we, w-we're allies!" he stammered nervously, obviously terrified at this "betrayal".

"I don't think so," enunciated Chris nonchalantly, and **very clearly**.

Gazimon was horrified, mouth agape, pupils dilated. "B-b-b-b-but, y-you're w-with, you're-with, L-Lord Vee—!" The digimon was obliterated in an instant, lime æther ripping through his flesh and bones like they were nothing. Chris survived quite well thanks to the Scanner's indestructibility, and appeared in Miles' line of sight the moment he ceased fire.

"WHAT THE EFF!"

"Got you!" Chris smirked, throwing a fast punch aimed directly at the Modifier's neck. Miles had no time to dodge; this strike would surely snap his neck in two and kill him before the digivice's healing factor could activate!

* * *

_Be happy I followed, _mused Brock. The man, out of concern for Tina and his partner's impulsive actions, deserted his post and went after Miles. Having glimpsed Christopher successfully executing his strategy, interception was the only way to save him. Modifying his gun and pulling the second trigger would've taken too much time; Brock had no choice but to take a leap of faith, pull back his fist, undo the catch, and d-modify a blanket of electricity over his left hand as he clobbered Christopher with it.

Not letting Chris wiggle his way out of this development, Brock modified a gauntlet of flames onto his arm and blasted him down into the ground below. _Now, the finish!_ He thought, preparing his gun and aiming it straight at the downed Christopher.

* * *

Contrary to Guardromon's opinion, Veemon wasn't acting out of stupidity, but conviction: a conviction to verify everything himself, to prove everyone wrong. He couldn't understand why the Digital Monsters other than the Chosen view the humans with so much hate, to the extent they had no qualms on killing the ones they fought. _"They're all fighting for survival_," he recalled Christopher saying. Survival in itself was and never will be an excuse for rejecting the potentiality of a human being, for denying all possibilities of redemption. In the end, it was never about who was right or wrong to begin with.

Yet nobody listened. Veemon's ideals, shaped by his personal sense of justice and the years he spent with Daisuke and his friends, were brushed aside so callously, attributing everything to simple naivety. The policy to not kill, to avoid the stain of coldblooded murder… it was an admirable one. Finding weaknesses and exploiting them rather than slaying the opponent outright will never be a waste of time, believed Veemon.

The blue dragon himself thought Christopher would at least entertain his ideals, having forced himself to conform when they fought together. That he trusted in his ability to survive, he thought it was reason enough to assume the man could also adopt those principles as well. How disappointed was Veemon to see he was wrong. Even more upsetting was his apparent mercilessness and lack of compunction for his state of mind. What happened to Chris in the past was a complete mystery, yet it was needed to explain his transformation into a person filled with regret and cruel unconcern.

"_IT DOESN'T MATTER! Snuffing out lives… if it must be done, so be it."_

Whatever it was, one thing was certain: Christopher was mistaken, and Veemon knew it. _Destroying lives __**matters**_, he countered, as he bounced behind a tree, evading the opponent's bullets—he was seen. He counterfired and pushed onward, watching the man lose his balance (as he tried to evade Veemon's shots) and fall.

Chris called the search for weaknesses a waste of time. Veemon, irked by the memory of this insult, hastened his strides. The Modifier tried to gun him down as he recovered. A couple of stingers from Flymon struck the gun, knocking it off his hands. Emboldened, the Chosen charged, leaping to deliver a solid headbutt to the man's stomach, launching him airborne.

_You're wrong, Christopher_. Sharp eyes watched the Modifier undo the catch, observing the digivice flipping into the soldier's open palm. A split-second later, the tiny screen lit up concurrently with a swathe of fire igniting his right arm. "KNUCKLE FIRE!" he screeched, whipping it, shooting spheres of flame.

_YOU'RE WRONG!_ "RESTORATION!" yelled Veemon, swinging the black sword to negate the attack. His opponent staggered, losing his balance from the blast of wind. Veemon maintained his approach; he was close now. He prepared to stab; wound the man enough to make him pass out from the pain. It surprised him to see the man dash forward in reaction, taking out a combat knife and undoing the catch again. Once the digivice landed in his open palm, fire and lightning appeared a moment later, coiling both his arms. He held onto the digivice tightly.

Veemon stared at the digivice for a second there. _That's strange. Why is he— _The Modifier lunged, slicing down. The blue dragon sidestepped, ceasing this reflection, bouncing off with a "VEE HEADBUTT!" Little did he know it would lead him to the weakness he so desired, and the crucial role it will play in the battles ahead.

* * *

Yusaka, the artilleryman for Omega, thought everything was over when the assault teams rushed in. The carnage was awestriking; every few seconds, digimon blood stained the soil, tarnishing the forest with dead bodies. While it was a documented fact deletion naturally occurred instantly upon death, there were several occasions when collapse and dispersion of such data did not do so, for reasons unknown. This scene—slaughter—struck him was one such occasion. But the sight of dead bodies littering the place was just something to get used to. Plenty of digimon, according to DSI intel, despised humans. No need to get emotional over something that hates you.

To wile away the time, Yusaka showered his designated zone with grenades here and there. _Blue Thunder_ or _Fire Rocket_, it didn't really matter. The victims, if there were any, were either electrocuted or charred beyond recognition. Little action was guaranteed.

Or so it was planned. Despite the haphazard blasts, a large group of monsters initiated a counterattack, coming from the recesses of the base while Yusaka relieved himself on the tree. Resuming aggressive fire should've kept them pinned, but a blue dragon found an opening and bolted to him.

Forcing it behind cover would've been great, but it was astounding to see the monster take out a _gun_ and fire carefully-aimed shots at him in mere moments. The digimon had plenty of combat experience, since they apparently met their mark. None of his vital signs were hit; the force was enough to make him stumble, and fall off his precarious perch.

.

Disarmed and in danger, Yusaka had little choice but to dash forward to the dragon closing in on him, armed with a combat knife and a combination of _Electric Fist_ and _Knuckle Fire_ modifications. A meter or two behind the red-eyed monster was his gun. Its comrades were fast approaching, emboldened by the reptile's ruch, not to mention the sudden halt in artilleryfire.

The dragon evaded his first attack, kicking off with a headbutt. Yusaka recognized the big V-shaped mark on its forehead. Raising his modified arms to block and simultaneously hurt the creature, Yusaka failed to account for the black sword it swiped, forcing him to duck and roll forward. _Veemon._ The Modifier realized he was up against a Chosen, and one of the best when it came to hand-to-hand combat. He needed his gun. Whipping his arm back, a large ball of fire was hurled at the dragon, allowing Yusaka a few precious seconds to sprint for his firearm.

A gust of wind flew past him as he dived for his weapon. His fingers grasped solid ground. A fleeting gaze back at Veemon revealed the black sword in his hands, fully extended. It was a foreign object, something that just didn't belong. The ebony blade seemed menacing by itself.

.

"SPARKLING THUNDER!"

Yusaka looked up and crouched, dodging a bolt of lightning. An Elecmon sprung from the front. He took out his sidearm and fired at it! The reptile-like rabbit leaped and dodged the bullets, countering with another bolt. Yusaka ran forward and evaded, only to run straight into a butt-ugly ogre reeking of sweat, garbed in leather clothing. Brandishing a giant club, it lifted the weapon to squash the Modifier's head. "GOBLI STRIKE!"

Panicked, Yusaka fired his sidearm without aiming, striking the Goblimon in several places 'til the clip was empty. Not a single moment has passed when he heard a high-pitched voice from behind him. "You won't get away!" cried the blue dragon, its childlike voice underscoring the threat it posed to his life.

Catching the Goblimon's club as it fell, Yusaka hurled it towards the reptile and went around the ogre's disintegrating body. Sensing movement close by, he ducked, barely avoiding decapitation as a Snimon slashed at him with its blade-arms. Modifying his combat knife, Yusaka tossed it at the monster, piercing its head. Green blood oozed out as the giant mantis fell, lifeless and still. Frantically, Yusaka struggled to reload, only for the pistol to disappear from his hands, thanks to another careful shot by that gun-toting lizard. _Dammit!_

He eyed his digivice: 39% left. _That's what I get for wasting my battery earlier. _"Shit!" He reached for his earpiece. "Omega, where are you? I'm being overwhelmed here!" No response. _What's going on?_

Yusaka's foot struck something on the forest floor, making him stumble. He fell facefirst. Looking back at what tripped him filled Yusaka with elation: it was his weapon! The artilleryman grabbed his gun, and not a moment too soon. The Elecmon was back, lunging at him from the branches above, mouth wide open, fangs bared.

"Eat this, biatch!" bellowed Yusaka, feeding the Elecmon with steel-tipped bullets. Undoing the catch, he summoned the second trigger and turned around, seeking his dragonian pursuer as he pulled it. _Come out, wherever you are…_ The gun hissed and whined as it churned one orb after another with no aim at all. Yusaka, in his panic, hosed the area with orbs, disintegrating two Flymon dogging him, apparently launching stingers camouflaged by the dark. A yellow Kunemon fell down as well, the orbs cleanly cutting the damn thing in half.

A flash of blue appeared to his left. Rotating his head, Yusaka found his target and wheeled around, firing orbs until his weapon overheated. The surprised look on the dragon's face meant it didn't anticipate detection. All it could do was lift the black sword in an attempt to block it. _USELESS! _Yusaka smirked as all the orbs struck Veemon.

* * *

Hearing Aldo's report merited no reaction from Lucille. She was too stupefied to hear about his superhuman abilities, fighting on an equal level with Modifiers. Which one was more unsettling, that he was resistant to their new weaponry (to the point of calling it "**his **technology") _or_ the fact he had the perfect firearm and the ultimate shield? Lucy couldn't help but entertain the question. Everything about this Christopher was too fantastic…surreal. His profile sounded like a superhero's. An alien's. Something that's just not normal. Was he human? Digimon? Or betwixt and between?

Kikuchi's theory on the Veemon's survival made sense, highlighting Christopher's influence on this battle. Because of him, the Chosen escaped Aldo's scrutiny. Because of him, Colonel Reeves was given good reason to execute this Midnight Assault (the æther weapons _were _obviously his). Because of him, that very operation was breaking apart, leaving casualties Lucy had anticipated long before they even ventured into the Great Forest that night. Though the blond man's intentions were hazy at best, at this point he was hostile to the Modifiers, and his actions on the field were wreaking serious havoc.

The intel on Christopher was crucial. Being an outsider, Lucy figured, he'd probably end up going after the DSI to investigate its source of æther weaponry. It didn't matter whether he allied himself with the Chosen Children or not—Taichi Yagami would certainly exploit an invasion on headquarters, _especially_ by someone like Chris. It must be delivered to Mitsuo Yamaki—no, the Chairman himself!—as soon as possible.

Relying on Colonel Reeves to deliver the information was useless. Knowing him, he'd much rather take on Christopher and die trying than run away and return to the Spire. Worse, they were completely cut off from all communication to the base, not until they were at the Spire of Courage.

Surviving what's left of this failed operation was critical. "Aldo, we're cleaning up." Lucy intended to gather Haseo's digivice and Kazuki's equipment and dispose of them. There was no way she'd let the Digital Monsters get their grubby hands on the technology. Hell no.

"But we don't know if there're any digimon—"

"Shut it, Aldo!" hissed Lucy. "Everything's covered." It wasn't a lie. Blue lines of energy circulated her head, heightening her hearing and sight. With her digivice currently on its wrist mechanism, they had about three to four minutes of improved faculties. Right now, the Command Center was empty.

She actually wondered where Floramon took Commandramon and Wormmon.

* * *

Commandramon asked himself that same question when he woke up in darkness. Flashes of green, purple, and red caught his attention every now and then, coming from below. His body felt like it was sitting on a tree branch… a wide one.

He sat up, feeling his legs dangle in the open air. Curiously glancing down, he gasped. They were probably about a hundred feet above the ground, up in the upper sections of the forest cover. Far away from the Satellite Base (but within sight of it), anyone else using the branches would be too far down and too focused on the battle to find him.

Uncomfortably, "H-h-how the hell did we get here?" Commandramon never liked heights.

"Wasn't easy, y'know." A yellow stamen coiled around the branch, stretching. A one-armed Floramon landed next to him.

The first thing that escaped Commandramon's mouth was a question. "What happened to your—"

"Modifier got me," she preempted.

A rather awkward silence followed, only broken when the military dinosaur noticed Wormmon's absence.

"Lord Wormmon's a few feet below," Floramon replied. "You WON'T buh-lieve how handy he was! So many close calls with those stray orbs…"

Commandramon fumbled around his pockets for his binoculars. "Thanks for saving us both," he said, the memory of blacking out during his battle with Haseo and Kazuki still burning with humiliation. "I… I thought I've gone and failed again."

"Weeelll, you better thank Lord Veemon then. I wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for him." She mumbled, "Hmm, though I **do** want to know how he got that man's sword. Can't imagine Lord Veemon beating him after that fight with Leomon..."

Finally finding his binoculars, the military dinosaur positioned himself on the tree branch to face the Satellite Base. Before peering into the scopes, "Lord Wormmon told me all about it," he answered. "That Chris _taught_ Lord Veemon how to use that sword."

Even if she stood right behind him, Commandramon could already imagine her with wide, open eyes. The same ones _he_ had when Wormmon spoke about it. "T-TAUGHT?"

"Bet he just lent it to Lord Veemon, hehe," he chuckled. A glimpse of the Satellite Base revealed the Chosen and Christopher fighting on the northern side, engaging Modifiers alongside surviving digimon in two separate groups, with Centarumon among them. _There's a semblance of leadership, at least. That's good._

When Commandramon saw Christopher grab a Gazimon and use him as a shield, he growled softly, absolutely disgusted. Though a stocky Modifier knocked him down, a Flymon and Snimon attacked for his sake. His next action infuriated Commandramon: Chris leapt and _grabbed_ Flymon's wings as if it was some object, climbing on top of it, messing with the digimon's flight 'til it collided with the Snimon. _Asshole! _The burly Modifier blasted them dead with energy, but Chris sprung from the two insects to an unsuspecting soldier in sunglasses busy aiming down, thinking his comrade got his back covered. That man was killed.

A faint silhouette of bright blue, on the other side of the steel gate, took Commandramon. He focused on it, purging all thoughts on Chris's appalling methods. Only when the military dinosaur concentrated on the figure did he realize he was looking at a person constantly under digital modification, staring into the forest beyond, guarding the rear. The red, spiky hair was unmistakeable. _So that's where you're hiding._

_Colonel Reeves_, he grudgingly recalled.

* * *

The moment Darryl was "saved" by Chris, he made his way towards Mark to team up and assist him with the monsters. Both of them were already being overwhelmed; Brock and Miles weren't even doing their jobs, too fixated on something else, most likely. Tina and Jed had taken off as well, so doing this together was the best thing to do.

One more Gazimon popped up from the side, swiping at Darryl with its long, black claws. He sidestepped, but couldn't escape the attack fully. Sharp pain shot from his side; he could see a deep wound there. Undoing the catch, Darryl peppered the monster with armor-piercing bullets as blue lines of energy weaved in and out of the wound and healed him.

The fight was just beginning. No sooner had he killed the rabbit did a green ogre dropped in from above, its loud wail piercing the air. A heavy, wooden club was lifted high above its head, aiming to smash the Modifier's body to mush, something not even digital modification could save him from. Darryl jumped away, avoiding the blow, not seeing the Goblimon's follow-up elbow strike, which knocked him into a nearby treetrunk.

His FN SCAR dropped. Darryl had seconds to react after the ogre conjured a small fireball in his hand and hurled it. "GOBLI BOMB!" Undoing the catch once more, Darryl had a single option in mind: _fight fire with fire_, he mused, tossing an even bigger fireball at the digimon. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

Both flames collided. Darryl's consumed Goblimon's and kept on going, forcing the ogre to roll away. As it recovered, Darryl took the chance to snatch his weapon back and disappear to Mark's position, knowing it was better to reunite with him now than fight alone and risk being overwhelmed by the rest of the group…

.

Finding his comrade easily in the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a Flymon's back rearing its stinger, diving towards Mark's head, who was too distracted to see the attack as he fended off a few Kunemon and Gazimon's skirmish. Darryl charged without hesitation, his gun blazing. The yellow wasp detected the bullets and swerved quickly, avoiding the bullets. It kept its distance and instead fired its stingers at him from afar. The Modifier undid the catch and increased his agility (clearly seen by the blue lines circling his legs), evading each of them with ease. He noticed a Kunemon attempting to ambush Mark as he clouted the Gazimon with an electrically-charged fist. Firing immediately, the caterpillar fell and disappeared. The same could be said for Mark's opponent, which was killed by fatal electrocution. "Glad I got backup."

"Likewise," answered Darryl, reloading the FN SCAR.

Further conversation was halted. The last Flymon persisted on shooting stingers through their bodies. Three enraged Goblimon appeared and rushed them at the same time. Mark's and Darryl's tactical strategies turned the battle into a firefight between the two sides. The green ogres were smart enough to at least take cover, throwing many fireballs at their enemies. If that wasn't bad enough, the Flymon kept attacking from their blind spot, forcing both Modifiers to constantly change positions.

After a few minutes of this, both were exhausted. None of the monsters was dead, even though Mark was already using the green energy. "Hey, Darryl," Mark accosted. "Got a flashbang?"

"Only one. You have a plan?"

He nodded, gesturing a small area free of treetrunks nearby. "Toss it right there in the very middle. We'll blind 'em. I take Flymon. You go and kill those brutes."

"Hopefully I'll get all three."

"Right… Do it!"

"On it." Darryl executed the plan, brightening the area with blinding light for a moment. Subsequently, he scurried towards the Goblimons' LKP, hearing Mark's gun whine. The Modifier found one cowering behind its cover, helpless. Darryl gunned it down. However, one of the others wasn't as blinded as the first one was, and seeing its comrade's death prompted it to throw its giant club and leap for a well-aimed kick at his stomach whether he evaded it or not.

That would've succeeded, if Darryl didn't undo the catch and meet Goblimon's kick with "KNUCKLE FIRE!" sending it away with a great explosion. The third ogre couldn't be found. Either it had a decent hiding place, or it was farther away from the other two.

* * *

Guardromon B206 pushed forward the moment Veemon felled the artilleryman with shots meant to knock him offbalance with less-than-fatal wounds, though the some of the more agile (and less stout) digimon overtook him and attacked with the intent to kill. It was surprising to discover, once B206's sensors were activated, the man running _towards_ the digimon practically unarmed.

He readied his _Destruction Grenade_, hoping to catch the Modifier off-guard and blow him up into pieces of meat. This preparation was undermined by his sensors registering footsteps coming in from the south: it was the _second_ artilleryman, rushing to assist his ally.

B206 beckoned a Flymon and Snimon ahead. All he had to do was modify his voice pitch and whistle at a tone only insects could hear; furthermore, the two were closer to him than the others. Restoring his voice, "Come, we're intercepting _his_ reinforcement!"

The three digimon swerved south, prepared to meet the Modifier. Flymon flew ahead, making the first strike.

* * *

Christopher's DITE saved Veemon from instant death, enduring every single orb that flew to him. The blue dragon marveled at the sword, even if it _was_ incurring damage little by little. He pushed forward, exploiting the Modifier's cooldown time. Now **he** was surprised, though 'stunned' would've been a better word.

Veemon had been observing him for a while now, even as he followed after the other digimon that have engaged Yusaka as he ran for his missing weapon. The man kept a strict hold on his digivice, never letting it go. It rang as something worth looking into. Now that he thought about it, back in the day, whenever he—or anyone among his friends—evolved, Daisuke was always there, holding his D3 digivice high into the air. The same could be said for Hikari, Takeru, Ken, Miyako, Iori, and their partners. There was this thing about personal contact.

The Digimon of Miracles only had to verify it. It was why he wanted to be discrete about engaging Yusaka. He hoped sneaking up on him would work. It would've given him an opportunity to experiment. But, now that he regained his firearm, now that Veemon was just assaulted by the lime spheres, now that the DITE ran the risk of destruction, the Chosen had no choice but to put his faith in this sheer intuition.

Without even pausing to think, Veemon **threw** the DITE at him, the blade generating gusts of wind as it revolved in the air, winging towards Yusaka. His aim was so accurate, Yusaka would've lost a chunk of his face if he didn't evade. It was so startling the Modifier couldn't help but sneak a peek at the weapon's flight.

This was _everything_ he's been waiting for. The blue dragon took one step again and again, hurrying to the Modifier. Yusaka sensed his advance, and attempted to fire orbs at point-blank, but Veemon wasn't giving him a chance to fight back. Putting his pistol in his right hand, with it he swatted away the weapon, firing the gun at the same time. The bullet's impact was so strong it lifted the gun straight off Yusaka's hands.

The man's right hand was engulfed in flames, but that didn't stop Veemon from reaching for the digivice it clutched so dearly, even when Yusaka prepared to strike him with an arm wrapped in lightning. It was make or break time. Either he was burnt to a crisp, or his sharp combat intuition prevailed.

Feeling the sleek device on his fingertips, the blue dragon lunged further, coiling his hand over the digivice, ripping it away from Yusaka with all the effort he could summon. The Modifier struck the Chosen's snout simultaneously, sending him back five feet. Veemon, however, recovered, standing on his two legs.

One moment, he felt the heat prickling his leathery skin so fondly. The next, it was gone, and all the punch had was force, and force alone. That… was that. Veemon opened his palm—in it was Yusaka's digivice. Crushed. Damaged. No longer functioning. The Modifier stood in absolute stupor, staring at the Digimon of Miracles in horror. Veemon clenched his fist and squashed the digivice completely, sealing Yusaka's fate.

The human, now unarmed, stepped back, fearful, becoming even more so when Veemon smirked, pursuing him. Warm euphoria filled the blue dragon. The Modifiers, indeed, had a weakness. With a chuckle or two, Veemon chided those who thought the Modifiers couldn't be beaten without killing them. _IN, YOUR, FACE, all of you!_

He leaped. "BOOM BOOM PUNCH!"

* * *

Watching Miles die hit Brock quite hard. He was supposed to watch his back. But what happened? The blond man sprung from Flymon the moment it collided with Snimon, instants before Brock deleted both with the energy. Miles was killed while trying to provide cover fire for Mark and Darryl below. He never had the chance to do so.

_Forgive me,_ Brock apologized, taking the responsibility for his team leader's demise. He opened fire on Christopher, aiming to kill him before he could even see the orbs coming. Yet **somehow**, the man dodged them, jumping from tree to tree, as if he could see exactly where Brock's shots were coming from! "GAAAHH!" yelled Brock, cursing the damn blond, watching him jump to his branch and rebound towards him, his silver gun aimed straight at his face. In that instant, everything seemed to move in slow motion, and Brock discerned Christopher's fingers pulling that trigger, an ominous pale-green light blotting the darkness of its barrel.

Was he going to die _that_ easily? Brock thought, as the light grew brighter. From the look on Chris's jaded eyes, he knew right then and there he was up against someone who had fought and killed opponents fiercer than Brock himself. A funny thought entered his head. There's always been a saying, that eyes can reveal everything of a person. What was this man thinking at the moment, seeing _Brock's_ eyes as they stared into his barrel? Someone afraid to die? Someone who knew he was about to go down without much effort from his opponent? Someone who, despite all the blessings of digital modification and this green energy, couldn't even take out a single person who fought him and his comrades on an equal footing?

It was insulting! But it _was_ true. The only advantage this Chris had now was a supply of "living shields" and "bait". His fighting methods signaled his selfish concern for oneself. If he cared at all for those who fought by his side, he wasn't showing it, not for the digimon. Christopher never bothered watching their backs, but Brock… Brock continued to do so, and failed with regrets! And all this asshole did was go on and on, killing until he has achieved his objectives, whatever they were, doing literally everything if he could, even if it meant breaking certain codes of conduct during combat.

_I can't lose to him!_ "YOU WON'T KILL ME SO EASILY!" he bellowed, ducking to avoid Christopher's single shot. Brock tackled the man, clutching his head so tightly a normal man would've died already. Slamming Chris into the branch caused it to snap, and both fell to the ground, with nothing to hold onto but themselves. He forced his hand forward, maximizing all probabilities of Chris smashing into the floor headfirst.

The ground drew closer…

And closer.

And closer.

He was pretty sure the impact plus the force of his attack would kill Chris, or KO him at least. There was no way out for his callous opponent.

Or so he thought.

Chris suddenly snatched Brock's hand, squeezing the wrist so hard it broke in a split-second. Keeping his hold, he pulled Brock to the side with so much force his forearm was dislocated. Mere seconds before they crashed into the ground, Christopher kicked the Modifier's left ribcage, propelling him into a tree.

Both crashed. One on the ground. The other on a trunk. Brock heaved himself up, as did Chris. He clutched his arm, undoing the catch. Even though the blue lines of energy healed it, every single moment inflicted so much pain he couldn't stand up straight. It hurt a _lot_ more than bullets or cuts. Chris wasn't in a good position either; he was hunched down, grasping his lower left abdomen (_was there something there before?_), and panting with great exhaustion. It was an opportunity to take him out!

But with Brock currently unable to do so, he feared this window of opportunity would close without anyone exploiting it. At least until he heard his name being called out. "BROOOCK!" The stocky Modifier turned to the voice's direction, finding Tina Fujieda standing far.

"TINA, SHOOT!" he urged. "SHOOT **NOW**!" There was no time to lose!

She seemed to understand, raising her weapon. Brock's ears registered the whining of her gun. He stared at her, hoping she could pull this off. If she did, everything would be over, the Digital Monsters would've lost, and the DSI would've returned to the Spire base with a POW equipped with information humanity would seek so desperately, for the sake of progress and security.

A large being, however, snuck up on her from behind. Given the (very) dim moonlight, and the bright light of her gun, Brock didn't see it coming. Its fleshy arm snatched Tina's weapon, and with a flash of yellow light, the creature destroyed it. Though it fired a single shot, it simply passed Christopher overhead. _No!_ The one orb lit the Forest as it flew; Brock saw a badly-burned Goblimon—still on fire—soaring towards Chris. He saw it, caught it midair by the arm, flinging him towards Brock. The close distance, the speed of the thrown monster, and the shock at witnessing Tina's failure firsthand, prevented him from evading.

A green, sweaty armpit made contact with Brock's face; he could taste the digimon's disgusting sweat, its taste comparable to its horrid stench. In the corner of his eyes he saw Christopher shooting five times in his direction, vying to take both Brock and Goblimon out together. _Dammit, I can't lose to him! _He struggled, but it was too late. The orbs struck Goblimon and penetrated him, erasing his neck completely. _Not, to… that asshole!_

Another funny thought came to the dying Modifier. To think, he was going to die with his face lodged in the sweaty, noisome armpit of a dying digimon, killed by a jerk ignoring all rules of comradeship. So much for Brock's dignity.

.

Then again, that wasn't a funny thought at all. It was simply just that: a thought.

* * *

Centarumon was the one who saved Christopher, destroying the female soldier's weapon. The Modifier called Tina gazed up at him, horrorstruck. Centarumon inched forward, rearing his mechanical right hand to skewer the woman. But the girl regained her senses, avoided the blow, retreating into the forest. The centaur returned his gaze to Chris, only to see him kill the burly Modifier, along with a fellow Goblimon.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The centaur galloped to him. "That was a comrade! A FRIEND!"

"You're a captain, or something, right?" he retorted back. "You **know** sacrifices are sometimes necessary." That _was_ true. There were times when one had to hold back their hearts and gulp in regret after approving a plan that called for a soldier's faithful sacrifice in the name of a valiant cause. Yet it was also clear that a commander would always, _always_ prefer to keep casualties at a minimum in the path to victory. Chris had violated this path; his response implied callousness on his part.

Sounds of fighting erupted. Both Chris and Centarumon gazed towards it, sighting Darryl engaged in close combat with a Goblimon and a Gazimon. Christopher, without hesitation, lifted his gun and began firing indiscriminately, hoping to make another kill. "STOP!" Centarumon growled, traversing meters to get to Christopher and stop him! "Stop it!" How could he shoot at the enemy right now, when two comrades were right there fighting him? ALL THREE would die! And these digimon entrusted their lives to him the moment they agreed to follow Chris's plan. What kind of person would treat his comrades so badly, wondered Centarumon.

He grabbed Christopher by the neck using his petrified hand, lifting him up and pinning him against a nearby tree. Centarumon's lone eye glowed fierce burgundy underneath his Roman helmet. "We're trusting our lives to you!" he roared, feeling the rage burn within him. "You can't just do this to us! We are **NOT** your shields!"

Chris slammed his foot into the centaur's chest, pushing him back. He rubbed his neck a bit before replying, "YOU MADE A MISTAKE!" Those goldenrod eyes stared back fearlessly. "ALL OF YOU DID! Veemon misplaced his trust in me and **so did you**! We're fighting those cunts for two _completely_ different reasons." He poked Centarumon's chest and shoved him back, intending to prove his point. "You aren't my allies. **NONE OF YOU ARE!**" Centarumon's eyes rolled temporarily in Darryl and the two monsters' direction: all were down, dead.

The brief silence between them was eerie. Gunshots, explosions, and animated screeches could be heard far in the distance. Centarumon's and Christopher Van Numen's eyes were affixed to each other: eerie red juxtaposed to bright bluish-gold. No words were exchanged for seconds that seemed like eternity, and all Centarumon do was think back, and reflect, trying to find some response for Chris's damning utterance.

_Why is he here anyway? _All Centarumon could recall was Veemon urging Leomon to let Lalamon treat his wounds. His murky profile was suspicious, and it was thought he even brought the Modifiers here, until they saw him fighting alongside the Chosen. _How could he deny his alliance with Lord Veemon, then?_ The answer was simple: Chris was using him for the medical help. It was plausible, too, since his coldhearted actions underscored the man's selfishness. Only _his_ goals took priority. Despite this, Centarumon recalled the way he protected the dragon from the six Modifiers. Veemon himself admitted Chris helped him back at the Command Center. A cunning user wouldn't do that. If anything, Christopher should've run off the moment they were attacked, or ditched him as bait for the enemy. "Then, **why** do you treat Lord Veemon so differently?"

Chris **blinked**, not expecting the question. The man struggled to find the answer. Seconds passed, turning into minutes. Not a single syllable escaped his lips as the night went on. _Perhaps_, Centarumon speculated, _only Lord Veemon can trust him. _Was this because he stood by him yesterday after all the discrimination? Did this arise from some form of acquaintance? From a twisted ethics base? Or from that trademark, human irrationality?

In the end, Christopher discarded the query, rotating west. "The last two Modifiers are over there," he pointed. "The other group's split up in two; few of them have died. Veemon's still OK, though." How he knew this was unknown. Centarumon didn't bother to question either this or his inability to answer. "Let's just end this," Chris spoke, his voice without vigor.

Centarumon was quiet, following him instead as they ran for the last two. _He's right. This battle must end, before anyone else gets killed. _Everything else can wait until later…

* * *

The deed was done—both digivices and Kazuki's weapon were gathered before her. Firing a sphere of æther at the pile, the devices disappeared without a trace. Seconds later, Lucille and Aldo were by that long window on the first floor, staring at the vast forest ahead, bodies of the dead scattered and half-dispersed. Aldo was limbering up, stretching his muscles on the floor, prepping himself for the fight out.

Meanwhile, Lucy wondered how Alpha and Omega were doing. Last she saw them, Christopher, along with Veemon, was handing their asses on a silver platter, their teamwork a detrimental combination. The more she thought about it, the more worry took root in her heart—were they all going to die for this stupid, reckless operation? Lucille attempted to contact Tina, but she was not responding.

That meant three things: [1] the earphone has been ripped off like Aldo's, [2] she was too busy fighting to answer, or [3] she was already dead. Everything was falling apart. If the Modifiers were dying one by one, that's additional clean-up work, work probably impossible to complete in enemy territory, in these circumstances.

She closed her eyes and tried to shut it out, relaxing her soul. The situation called for professionalism. Lucy felt a hand pat her shoulder. The female Modifier turned and saw the scout staring, nodding, as if he understood her worries, being the herald of bad news. "Lucy, we got to run."

"We can't win, not with _him_ out there."

"I **know** that!" rasped Lucy.

"Then…?"

She bowed her head, thinking for a moment, coming up with a quick decision. "I'm getting you out of here."

"What about you?"

"Staying behind." It was the only way to maximize survival rates. "Prevent unnecessary deaths."

"Yeah," he concurred approvingly. "This operation's effed up, seriously." Aldo sighed. "I'd help you, but I'm _useless_ right now."

Lucille slapped his back. "Cheer up, Kikuchi! You survive this, and you'll get another chance." _A chance for payback._

"Hooah!"

She undid the catch, and so did Aldo. "Let's go!"

* * *

Lucille wasn't the only one trying to contact Tina. Colonel Albert Reeves had been trying to establish communications with either Alpha or Omega, to only meet futility.

Reeves was irked. _Godeffingdammit, what's going on?_ Again he called out, pressing a little button on his earpiece. No response, **again**. Lucy, he thought, would probably be clueless to the Assault Groups' status, no doubt being too busy rescuing that newbish Kikuchi. _When we get back_, he noted, _I'll make sure Yamaki kicks him out of the Modification Project. _It made sense to him anyway; Aldo's team was supplied with energy weapons and a single digivice per person. How could they possibly lose to some person who shouldn't have been there in the first place? When they were fully capable of killing him or knocking him out with their equipment?

The Colonel was convinced Aldo's failure resulted from managerial inefficiency—the inability to mitigate an unforeseen threat. Kikuchi's incompetence led to the deaths of two new recruits and the possibility of the Digital Monsters and their so-called Tactician getting their disgusting hands on prototype technology. Even the Veemon's survival could be traced to him! Who was supposed to finish off that lizard in the first place? _That nigger, damn right!_

Clad entirely in circling blue lines of energy, the Colonel peered at the steel gates meters behind. Reeves began walking. An investigation was necessary. Alpha and Omega were stuck tending to the north side, cleaning up the scout's mess. Reeves ogled his new digivice. It looked like an iPod, like the original. You could only tell the difference by comparing the designs against each other, and the fact that the battery power never really dies out. The device still sat in its catch-lock mechanism, yet its modification hasn't reached expiration ever since he activated it—one of the most apparent indicators of the power the small machine contained.

If worst comes to worst, Reeves mused, _I'll take 'em all out myself. _

* * *

Tina had found Miles' gun sitting on the forest floor during her hasty retreat. Returning to battle, Fujieda mustered the courage to assist the struggling. But, Darryl was dead. So was Brock. Jed and Miles were corpses. Mark was the last, and as team captain of the Alpha group, she cannot just leave her subordinates behind, simply because they were weak or dying. Decisions like that were something that heartless Colonel Reeves would do, but not her. It wouldn't be human.

Lucy's and Reeves' calls were ignored the moment she laid eyes on Mark fighting a losing battle with two Gazimon and a Goblimon. His digital energy was obviously low, given his sporadic usage. Worse, the monsters have somehow managed to disarm the man. How it happened was a mystery. Tina knew she shouldn't dwell on this now, not when there was still a life to save.

She made her move, firing her weapon, using regular bullets. The energy had to be saved _specifically_ for Chris—it was the only thing that could harm him! "Cease weapon modifications," she ordered, spraying the two Gazimon. The Goblimon stood before them and blocked with his thick, sturdy club; one of the rabbits coughed up a ball of black gas moving in their direction. Tina pulled Mark with her, away from the three digimon. "We _will_ need it."

Mark fortunately understood. "We're retreating west," instructed Tina right away. "Back to Yusaka's range. With Shirou helping him out, we'll kill any digimon after us."

"Yes, ma'am!" Both moved, advancing west, turning back to defend themselves. The remaining digimon were a bit cunning this time, taking cover behind the trees. Goblimon hurled small fireballs at Tina and Mark. One of the Gazimon snatched a pistol close to Jed's body (when they passed it) and started shooting back. The creature had bad aim, but that never discounted the threat it posed.

They continued moving back, into what they thought would be a zone of safety. But no, sooner or later they ran into two Kunemon spitting threads at them from ahead. Mark and Tina would've dispatched them easily, but four celadon orbs passed overhead, nearly hitting Tina square in the head. Fujieda looked back, discovering Christopher hot on their tail, with Centarumon charging his biomechanical hand.

_Dammit!_

"Run or shoot?" Mark bellowed, having seen their pursuers. "RUN OR SHOOT?"

Tina grunted, undoing the catch. She held the digivice tightly in her grasp. It was time to go all-out.

"BOTH!"

* * *

Yusaka couldn't believe it. The Veemon found the Modifiers' fatal weakness. All thoughts of winning evaporated when he watched the dragon clutch his digivice and rip it off its fasteners, overpowering the flimsy metal.

The digivice had been destroyed by the Chosen's attempt to snatch it. As the lizard rubbed its face, Yusaka saw its mouth curve into a triumphant smile. _I-I'm gonna die!_ He thought, stepping back.

Veemon took a step forward. Yusaka did the opposite. He had no idea what to do! Completely unarmed and depowered, how could he win against a digimon excelling in close quarters? Should he fight to the bitter end? Or plead for mercy and be taken prisoner?

Yusaka hesitated. According to DSI intel, prisoners were eventually killed off by the bloodthirsty monsters, unable to contain their hatred for men! Even if the Chosen shows him mercy, it doesn't mean the others won't try to sneak in a little brutality, whether it killed him or not. Yusaka was… afraid. He stared at Veemon with frightened eyes.

The dragon never saw them. Now that victory was attainable for _him_, he sprinted. Yusaka remained frozen, unable to move. Veemon leaped and clouted him several times, ending with a powerful headbutt on the belly. He flew back several feet, into a crowd consisting of 2 Elecmon, 2 Goblimon, 1 Flymon, and 1 Snimon. They surrounded him, preventing escape.

Every digimon bared their sharp, ugly teeth, having noticed the powerlessness of their prey. "You pay, human," spoke a fierce Goblimon.

One of the Elecmon stepped forward, backing Yusaka into a treetrunk. _I'm trapped!_ "With your dirty life!"

They all lunged at him. Goblimon with clubs. Elecmon, fangs. Flymon, talons. Snimon, sickles. Yusaka closed his eyes, awaiting the bodily torment. Was this how he was going to die? As a defenseless prey trapped by bloodthirsty animals?

Why wasn't anyone assisting him? What happened to everyone in Omega? To Lucille? To Reeves, even? Where was Shirou, Alpha's artilleryman? Did the digimon get him too? Yusaka fell to his knees, defeated, welcoming death. He could feel the monsters' warm bodies coming closer, and closer… going for the kill—

.

.

"STTOOOPPPPP!"

The digimon moved away. Or perhaps _forced _away. A blast of wind swept by, cold and strong. His coldblooded killers were growling in frustration. No longer were they close to him. He felt a tail poke his vest. Obviously something stood before him.

Yusaka dared to open his eyes. Dumbness struck him the moment he laid eyes on Veemon standing between him and the monsters, with the black sword basking them in its menacing presence.

"Step away, Lord Veemon!" called an Elecmon, the same one who spoke earlier. "He's an enemy!"

"No!" he snapped. "You won't kill him! Not while I'm here!" The other monsters inched toward him, only to back off when the blue dragon began moving the black sword.

_Wha?_

Veemon's red eyes turned to him. "Run," he urged. "They'll slaughter you if you don't."

"LORD VEEMON!" yelled a Goblimon. "Friends all gone! DEAD!" He pointed a quivering finger at Yusaka. "DEAD! HE PAY FOR IT!"

The other ogre conjured a ball of fire. "GOBLI—"

One swish of the sword, and the blade produced a powerful breeze that stopped the attack and caused them to flinch. Veemon shot back, "Guys, we don't have to kill! Look at him, he's scared! Can't even fight back!" _Why?_

One of the Snimon shrieked, charging. "DON'T CARE!"

Veemon slammed the Snimon with the blunt side and kicked him away. "He's a human!" the Chosen insisted.

_Why's he helping me?_

"Humans have good in them!" he reasoned. "No matter what they've done, as long as they're alive, they can still go back; they can still change! We can be friends with our enemies **only** if we give them a chance! They aren't reborn like us! C'mon, guys! We don't have to do this!"

The monsters glared, thoroughly unconvinced by Veemon's naïve idealism. Their glowering eyes conveyed an unwavering pessimism that belittled his words and refused to support the idea of potentiality lying dormant in every single person that continues to eat, breathe, and live. However, the Chosen's words have made an impact on Yusaka: contrary to popular belief, not all the "free-thinking" digimon despised humanity.

Few monsters have experienced an authentic, good life with a human, and this Veemon was talking with much verve, as if his beliefs were reinvigorated…recharged. Perhaps this was why the Chosen exist: to sever the enmity between monsters and men, and restore the idyllic peace both races had for a few years after the Digital Revelation.

_Not all digimon want to kill humanity_, Yusaka realized. Whatever the DSI taught, it was wrong. Horribly wrong. He stood up, and gave Veemon a look of thanks. "I owe you one, Chosen." The Modifier turned and ran, heading for the gap in the concrete wall. He wanted nothing but to get out and live. Losing his life here was meaningless. So was this war...

* * *

The Digimon of Miracles waited until Yusaka was out of sight before retracting the DITE. Immediately the monsters around him grumbled, shooting despicable curses. A few had the audacity to smack Veemon and give him a little beating, reprimanding him on what he's done, forgiving a beast that will eventually come back to kill them all. The blue dragon stood courageously by his beliefs, never faltering thanks to a renewed faith in them.

A minute or two after the beatings and curses began did Veemon realize B206's absence. There were a Snimon and Flymon missing from the group ahead of him. Did the Modifier get them somehow? He strained to hear anything beyond the petulant complaining around him, no longer looking at his companions just to catch a glimpse of battling nearby.

His friends ogled the dragon, pissed yet flustered by his stubbornness. They already gave up, remaining content with glaring angrily. At this point, Veemon caught flashes of red light to his right, far in the distance, closer to the concrete wall. Did Guardromon and the two digimon he took with him end up walking _that_ far?

Veemon started moving, but the other monsters barred his path. His intentions were clear: to prevent any death. They, knowing this, told him to back off before he could do anymore damage to the situation.

"What damage?" He yelled, defending himself subsequently with a litany of explanations he trusted they'd accept… and adopt. The Modifiers can be easily defanged by separating them from the digivices, he said, before retreating to his beliefs: the potentiality of the human person, his stance of good and evil, the possibility of reformation, of monsters and men being friends again. "Have you forgotten _everything_ about Ken?" he finished, appealing to the former Digimon Kaiser as the best example.

Despite his best efforts, they were unmoved. "Grow up: this is different from ten years ago!"

"They've already proven themselves untrustworthy!"

Hearing this made something snap in Veemon. These digimon were incapable of listening. They were stalling him, preventing him from interfering with the other three. He extended the DITE and slashed the air, high-speed wind blasting the area. With the other monsters knocked down, Veemon sprinted towards Guardromon's most probable position.

Soon, Guardromon B206 slipped into sight. With two agile insect digimon, the Modifier they fought was losing. He was a novice much like Yusaka was. The way he fought denoted his inexperience: not as fast as Tina or Lucy, not as cunning and observant as Aldo, and not nearly as ruthless as Reeves. Guardromon soon caught him in an ambush attack, divesting his weapon right after Flymon planted several stingers tipped with fast-acting nerve poison on the man's leg.

The soldier, scared for his life, gawked at Snimon as it dove to decapitate him. Veemon shouted for them to stop, urging Guardromon to rip off the digivice instead because it will depower the Modifier instantly, negating whatever threat he posed. The Modifier looked at him with thankful eyes, relieved to see Veemon would fight for the preservation of his life no matter what.

.

"WARNING LASER!" B206 disregarded his desperate plea, firing lasers from its eyes, aimed at the man's head. Veemon sent gusts of wind at him, but not even the DITE could make the android budge. He was simply too heavy, and Veemon lacked the strength to produce stronger blasts. The Modifier screamed in agony; soon he was dead, his head nothing but red, disfigured paste, completely melted by Guardromon's lasers. The corpse was discarded.

Flymon came and tore an arm off, devouring it. Veemon, already stunned, watched a Snimon land and mince the torso repeatedly until it was horribly disfigured. He couldn't bear the carnage. He had to look away! Veemon felt like throwing up on the spot. _We're acting like monsters_. _**Real**__ monsters._

"I-is this… really revenge?" The blue dragon recalled the first time he saw the desecrated corpses of his comrades just outside the Command Center. Veemon himself felt like giving the soldiers as brutal as a payback then, defiling their bodies even when they're cold and dead. His fond memories of Daisuke and his friends in the human world simply vanished, suppressed by shock. Accompanying it was a horrid feeling egging Veemon to think Daisuke Motomiya, his faithful partner, abandoned him in the Digital World three years ago. Only the sight of Christopher snapped him out of it, becoming a visual reminder of those long-gone happy times. Veemon cast his eyes on the mutilated corpse. _Would I have done this, too?_

Thinking about it sent a chill down Veemon's spine. He frowned at B206. Both stared at each other wordlessly, even as the others caught up to them.

* * *

The first thing Colonel Reeves saw was Yusaka fleeing the compound. Cowardice was looked down upon in the DSI. Even more so for the Modifiers: only the best candidates could get into the project. A newb like Aldo was acceptable; a coward was not.

Reeves bolted for Yusaka's position, cutting him off instantly. "What the eff are you doing, soldier? Return to your post!"

"C-Colonel!" he stammered. "I-I-I, I'm sorry! I lost my equips and everything, a-and… I don't think I could fight anymore."

Reeves glared. "What the **hell**?"

Panting, "t-the di-di-digimon, ha, what the DSI taught, w-we, we're wrong! T-this war is meaningless. They just want peace. I can't die here, Colonel. I just can't!"

"Whatever." Colonel Reeves trained his gun at the man, prompting a shocked gasp. "Haul your goddamn ass back there, you effing coward."

Yusaka dared to turn away, retreating west. "Y-you… you're not gonna do that," he muttered.

A lime orb shot out of Reeves' gun, almost hitting Yusaka's face. "Take one more step, and I **will**. I really wonder what your family will think when I _personally_ tell them you deserted the DSI."

He quivered, closing his eyes. After two seconds, Yusaka forced himself to turn back, grunting. The Colonel didn't care whether it was fearful or frustrated. _That's more like it_, thought Reeves, scaling the concrete wall with one leap, allowing access to a good view of the carnage. He half-expected to hear the monsters' cries of anguish from the top.

.

Reeves was _sorely_ disappointed. Alpha and Omega were gone. Two soldiers were still alive, fighting far back. He could see it from the flashes of green over there. But the rest were gone. There would've been distant gunshots otherwise. Lucille hadn't returned yet, and God knows what the hell she's doing. Whatever it was, it wasn't helping the assault teams.

Rage filled the Colonel, **especially** when he laid eyes on a digimon of the brightest blue, having a _very_ animated conversation with a group of digimon surrounding him, his quacking mouth targeted directly at a stout Guardromon. The Veemon was supposed to be dead. DEAD! But, no, he somehow _survived_ and was right there in front of him, sitting duck. Reeves attributed his subordinates' failure (and cowardice) to that damn lizard and whoever helped him back at the Spire.

Veemon could be killed right now with a single shot from his gun, but the gunfire would certainly warn the monsters beside him. There must be a way. Then Reeves saw Yusaka stalking them, loitering close by. Luckily he knew the frequency of the artillerymen.

"Yusaka, flashbang those monsters and grab the lizard," he ordered.

"Colonel, but I'm unarm—"

"I'll cover you, you yellow shit," Reeves snapped. "Now do it and hug that bastard tight! I want a tight hold on the lizard."

"…yes, sir."

* * *

Yusaka regretted following the Colonel's orders the moment he executed them. A single flashbang thrown from afar in the very middle of the pack blinded **everyone**, affecting even the Guardromon's sensors. None of them sensed his presence before that, too engrossed with Veemon's arguments. They were talking about a "no killing" policy and "Lord Veemon's naivete". _Wow_, he thought. Until now the Chosen fought for his beliefs. Hearing him speak of all humans becoming friends with monsters was a greater burden on Yusaka's heart.

Exploiting the flash of light, the depowered Modifier popped out of cover and sprinted, pushing past all the digimon until he found the blue dragon still reeling from the blast. Yusaka bent down and snatched him, clutching him tight, restricting movement.

Veemon was recovering. He struggled to move but was helpless against the man's bearhug. Soon he glanced up, awestruck to discover his kidnapper. "I-I saved you," spoke his muffled voice. "Why'd you come back? W-why're you doing this?"

The other monsters began to move; Yusaka glimpsed Reeves firing orbs from his gun. "Sorry," he responded, pointing a finger at the Colonel. "**He** threatened me… was going to kill me."

"That's not a leader! That's a **bully! **That's not right. It isn't…"

Yusaka wasn't listening, busy witnessing every digimon in front of him sacrifice themselves for their beloved dragon. Their useless efforts to save the Chosen paralyzed his body. He gawked at Reeves, who felt nothing after killing so many.

* * *

Mark and Tina were formidable opponents. "HUNTING CANNON!" Centarumon screeched, firing a yellow ray at the two. Both evaded the attack and proceeded to counter. He ducked behind a tree trunk—they were firing orbs again. He glanced down at his right hand: the cannon could only be used every thirty seconds! _Dammit._

Peeking out, Centarumon found the two struggling with Christopher and the three digimon. The Gazimon had gone melee. Goblimon stood back, shooting fireballs. Chris went to engage them point-blank, shooting his gun while fighting in close quarters. The man fought dangerously, even if his skill was impressive. A stray orb from _his_ weapon grazed the tree next to Centarumon's.

Soon, however, a Gazimon managed to distract Mark, allowing Chris to surprise Tina by grabbing her uniform and hurling her towards the last Goblimon alive. Landing near the monster, Tina was about to have her head crushed by his wooden club. Mark supported her by gunning Goblimon down, plugging holes through him.

That was the last time he ever got to support her. No sooner had he done this did Christopher literally slam his fist into the man's chest. Centarumon swore he saw the blond's hand _sticking out_ of the soldier's torso, covered in bright red. Tina screamed, pulling the second trigger. "AAAGGHH!"

Centarumon acted, trotting out his cover. "HUNTING CANNON!" The woman heard his announcement and turned her head, catching a glimpse of the yellow ray as it burst out his mechanical hand. She responded with more orbs, prompting the centaur to abandon his cover before it was ripped apart by green.

Galloping towards Tina, Centarumon watched Chris swoop in from her right. "Let's get rid of your gun," he heard Chris saying. The centaur ran to her, swiping his petrified hand. She held her firearm with her left and tried to attack Centarumon before he could turn around, simultaneously blocking Chris's advances with her right.

This was the biggest mistake she ever made. Performed on instinct, against someone who literally appeared next to her in a split-second, Christopher's hand coiled around _her digivice_, tearing the machine from its mechanism, his grip **crushing** it into unrecognizable pieces. Suddenly, all that pelted Centarumon were bullets, bullets that barely pierced his rough hide.

The centaur saw none of this. His lone eye was fixated on the scene occurring further west, closer to the wall. His sharp vision discerned one red-haired man clad in blue firing lime orbs at a figure shaped like Veemon, held in position by another soldier. Multiple shapes went straight into his line of fire, disappearing completely. That's when he realized he was looking at the other group; the Chosen was immobilized, and on the brink of death. "LORD VEEMON!" he roared, galloping towards the scene, charging his right—

"On it!" interrupted Chris, dashing faster than Centarumon could gallop. Was he concerned for the dragon? _Or did you just use Lord Veemon again?_ He thought.

* * *

Colonel Reeves opened fire at the dragon, barking Yusaka to step away simultaneously. Christopher hurried, sighting the Colonel. Yet even he was too slow to shield Veemon from the æther. Instead, Chris raised his gun and countershot, revealing his approach.

Celadon æther intercepted lime, but two escaped the collision, flying to the pair. Further gunfire was impossible without hitting the Chosen. He never expected the Colonel to show up _this _early. Was another life he wanted to protect going to die in front of his eyes?

Fortunately, the man keeping Veemon immobilized decided to let him go, pushing him away at the very last moment. The two orbs erased the unarmed Modifier's abdomen and half his neck, his collapsing body bleeding uncontrollably. Colonel Reeves pursued the Digimon of Miracles, firing his gun.

This time, Chris stood between him and the lime æther, banishing them with the R-Scanner, steadfast. He eyed the man atop the wall, taking in his spiky hair, rugged face, and astonished visage. Leering, "Colonel Reeves, I presume?"

* * *

Gunshots.

Burst fire.

That's what Lucille heard as she and Aldo retreated to the southwestern corner. She tipped her head right. _From over there_.

"Sounds desperate," Aldo reckoned. "I can tell from the echoes."

She gazed at him quizzically.

"Sharp ears," he spoke meekly. "…what're you gonna do?"

"Do I _have_ to repeat myself?" Lucy yawped. She was already heading for the sounds' direction. "Prevent unnecessary deaths!"

"But what about—"

"**You** go on alone," she barked, not hesitating to point out he still had 12% on his digivice. "You'll be fine." Lucille Diaz had complete confidence in saying so: on their way here, they passed by mutilated bodies of digimon sprawled, some already completely deleted. Stragglers were encountered rarely; most of the enemy was dead, save for key figures such as Wormmon and Veemon. Whoever needed help was gathering attention of all the remaining monsters; the situation was perfect.

Aldo started, but turned back after taking a step. "Lucy, there's a vending machine close to the edge of the Great Forest. I'll be—"

"I get it!" she snapped. "Now **move **your ass!"

"R-roger!"

Lucy watched him disappear into the darkness, beyond her sight. She turned towards the gunshots. They were becoming sporadic. _You better be alive when I get there._

* * *

Colonel Reeves remained stoic upon seeing the man ultimately responsible for tonight's failure, stonewalling Veemon protectively. The mere sight stoked his curiosity. "Why do you fight for the digimon?"

No response.

"They overran the Earth! Upheaved human society, worsened it more than it already was! Thousands were killed because of them!"

"Who's your supplier?" Chris blurted, ignoring him.

"And they stupidly think they're our equals," persisted Reeves. "When they exist solely and **only** for our entertainment—effing pets!" He spat on the wall. "BARELY!"

"Shut up!" He lifted his gun and aimed at Reeves. "Now how'd you get your weapons?" He fired a single orb that whizzed past him. "WHO gave you æther technology?" Those goldenrod eyes narrowed. "I won't miss again."

.

Reeves gleamed. The man held no concern for the digimon, determined to wrench control from him. That he had nothing to do with the digimon was clear, but Colonel Reeves wasn't going to give in. His so-called opponent was a parasite, leeching off Veemon's network for his own gain. Defection to DSI would tremendously impact the war, possibly ending it in _hours_, leaving humanity the dominant conqueror.

"Sure, I'll tell you," he acquiesced. Reeves' eyes never left Veemon. _Information is power. _"After you kill that lizard!"

Christopher followed his gaze.

"If you level this Satellite Base and leave **no** survivors, I'll even get you help on **ANYTHING** you want!" tempted Colonel Reeves. A two-faced person would do _anything_ for information, willingly risking their lives, bending their morals! Probabilities are even better when assistance was promised. What kind of idiot would refuse an offer like this?

* * *

"Stay alive."

Those were the last words Yusaka told Veemon before pushing him out of danger's reach. The dragon's decision to spare him had moved the Modifier, even if he _was_ forced to return and seize Veemon from behind by his superior officer, who in his opinion was a common bully immersed in power. Plenty of it.

His friends were all killed before his eyes, and there was a point Veemon thought he himself would've died; but Chris saved him yet _again_. The Chosen thanked him right away, only to find out the man was ignoring him, his attention directed only at the Colonel on the wall. Chris demanded information from him, threatening with a deliberately inaccurate shot.

Then Reeves gave him an offer: information _plus_ assistance, in exchange for Veemon's death and the utter destruction of the Satellite Base. The Digimon of Miracles was confident Chris wouldn't even consider the option, until he looked up, making eye contact with the blond.

There were no smiles on his face. His eyes held no warmth, staring into his blankly, glacially. A serious face. _He's thinking on it! _"Don't listen to him!" dissuaded Veemon, his voice embracing a fitting tone of urgency. His life was at stake; so were the base and the few survivors. _Got to stay alive. _He protested, telling him the Colonel was wrong, and wasn't likely to deliver any of his promises. "Remember, we're allies! Friends!" Yet nothing seemed to penetrate.

Terror struck Veemon when Chris made a move. He inched back, expecting a sudden attack. Instead, like in the Spire, Chris patted the dragon's shoulder; his guard laxed, seeing the slight grin. It elicited a happy chuckle from Veemon. "For a moment I thought you were—"

"Like I need to," came the sarcastic reply. Christopher ogled Reeves, answering him. "Why should I?" Breaking into a run, "I'll just make you talk **MYSELF!**" One leap at the Colonel, and he was firing away.

* * *

Tina Fujieda struggled to survive. Unable to modify her firearms, none of the bullets had the power to pierce Centarumon. Her limited human agility precluded any hopes of besting the three digimon in melee. Worse, Flymon and Snimon were on her tail—they weren't among those killed off by Reeves (who she witnessed delete multiple digimon trying to kill Veemon). It was difficult. Exhaustion slowly took over. Her body screamed for rest, but her digimon pursuers relentlessly forced her out of cover barely ten seconds after taking it. They were outflanking her; out of comrades and out of allies, death was inevitable. _I can't die here!_ She saw a mental image of her younger sister: a mere child. Maroon-haired, like her. _Not yet… I still have Yoshino!_

Tina gazed back at Reeves for help, but he's busy conversing with the blond liable for the operation's failure. She couldn't count on him. Flymon appeared from the front, swooping down. Tina ducked, barely avoiding. Then she glimpsed Snimon coming in from the right, shooting two beams of pink light. The detoothed Modifier rolled and countershot, only for the insect to evade.

"HUNTING CANNON!" A yellow ray struck the ground next to her head, almost killing her! Tina squinted to see Centarumon far back, his mechanical hand smoking. _He's sniping me!_ She aimed at the centaur and fired a grenade. Simultaneously, she took out a flashbang and hurled it to the ground before her, turning away, getting up, running as fast as her legs could take her. Salvation was close: that hole on the southwestern corner. Tina could **swear** she saw a Black man ran past it. _Aldo!_

"Aldo, heeeeellp!" she screamed. But the scout didn't hear anything, moving on without a single gaze back. A paralyzing pain suddenly ensnared her; Gazimon had shot her with Jed's gun: a lucky shot. Terrified, Tina gazed at the rabbit. It was aiming carefully down the sights. Flymon was above, rearing its poisoned stinger. Snimon charged its attack, as did Centarumon.

Bullet holes suddenly appeared on Gazimon's body, ripping it apart as it dispersed into data. Lucille Diaz herself landed on the ground, ready to protect Tina. She watched her distribute several orbs across the area, forcing all the digimon to take cover. It granted Lucy an opportunity to heal Tina's leg with her digivice. "Thank God I made it."

She also modified Tina's rifle, lengthening the barrel. "That'll magnetize all bullets going through the barrel. It'll last for ten minutes." The blue energy lines circling her wounded leg vanished. "Can you walk?"

Fujieda picked herself up, stretching her injured leg. "Still hurts, but yeah, I can."

"Good." The monsters were peeking out from their cover, planning a coordinated strike. "We're retreating."

Though Lucy was fixed on the monsters, Tina shot Reeves a passing glance and found him engaging battle against Christopher. Veemon was following them, intending to assist the blond. "Don't waste time with these guys," Tina advised. "The Colonel's being attacked; he'll need help."

Lucy nodded. "Follow Aldo—he'll be waiting at the vending machine outside the Great Forest!" She braced for battle. "I'll stay."

"Good luck," Tina wished, obeying Lucy's orders.

* * *

Lucille fought off the monsters easily. Her gun was modified for electrically-charged bullets. It was practically a handheld railgun. Better still, if the bullet didn't kill them, the electricity they discharge will. A second Gazimon would've been the first victim, if it didn't run with its tail between its legs. Flymon, Snimon, and Centarumon kept their distance wisely, attacking from afar.

Lucy, however, fought tactically. She modified one of her smoke grenades and threw it, subsequently camping in the cloud it produced. The D-Modification prevented her heat signature from showing in thermal scanners; smell was also neutralized by the modified chemicals in the smoke. Everything was well and good. Diaz faintly recognized Flymon's silhouette as it flew over her, seeking its prey. She raised her gun and fired, killing the insect.

A yellow ray zoomed through the smoke, dispersing it in its wake. Centarumon hid himself right after shooting, retaining the element of surprise. The dispersal allowed Snimon to attack, no longer burdened by the smoke. "SHADOW SICKLE!"

Loud whining preceded three orbs erasing the pink beams, finally hitting the Snimon's vital points. The digimon fell as it began to disintegrate… slowly. Centarumon was nowhere to be found, hiding after seeing the fate of his fellow comrades.

Lucy did not waste her time looking for him. Finding Veemon following Christopher as he attacked Reeves, she moved to intercept, firing bullets. The dragon caught the sounds of her gun firing, hiding behind a tree in the nick of time. Veemon peeked out, discovering Lucille Diaz in front of him, reloading her rifle. He, too, took out his gun.

"It's like the Spire all over again, lizard."

* * *

Christopher began his assault viciously, blasting Reeves with shots meant to fatally wound. Even kill. He had to be taken seriously. Chris could easily see it from all the blue hovering around the Colonel. The man evaded with ease, dodging the æther at a speed far greater than the Modifiers under him. He appeared on the side, kneeing Chris's abdomen and kicking him back towards the compound before buffering his attack with lime orbs.

He blocked the projectiles using the Scanner, running forward blindly. Then Reeves disappeared. One moment he was there, the next… gone! He focused his eyes on the map, looking for a nearby Modifier's icon—it was behind him! Chris turned, saw the incoming blow, and ducked to avoid it, sweeping his foot on the concrete flooring. The counter struck the Colonel's legs, making him fall. A subsequent punch to the abdomen literally drove Colonel Reeves into the wall, creating a small crater on it. Chris prepared to shoot, only for Veemon to crash into him from the side.

* * *

Veemon didn't hesitate to shoot her, aiming for her legs and arms. His eyes were fixed on the digivice. _If only I can get close! _He missed.

"You'll finally die," Lucy chided. "This time you won't have a missile to ride on!" She charged at him, her hand in flames. "KNUCKLE FIRE!"

Veemon dodged, rotating to launch a turning-roundhouse. Lucy, however, caught Veemon's foot midair and tossed him towards Christopher, who was about to finish off the Colonel. They collided. "Ow!" cried Veemon.

"Vee!" Chris scolded. "What, the, hell?"

"Sorry," the dragon meekly apologized. Raucuous whining grabbed both his and Chris's attentions; upon turning, they saw Lucille sprinting to them with her rifle about to fire. Christopher began to move, but Veemon grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "I'll take care of this." _Restoration!_ The DITE extended in his hands; one slash knocked Lucy back with a gust of wind. Veemon ran to her as she dropped. He ignored the roaring sound of infrastructural demolition: Chris could definitely fend for himself.

"But this time's different!" He slashed at her once more. She nimbly avoided the sudden gust. "I got a better weapon!" Lucy fired æther point-blank. Veemon sidestepped and sliced horizontally. She blocked it with her own gun. "I have a new friend! And…" he reached for Lucy's digivice. "I know your weakpoint!"

Her hazel eyes widened. She backed off right away, driving Veemon back with gunfire, holding the digivice tightly, not trusting its holding mechanism. The blue dragon pressed forward, avoiding the flying æther, meeting them with the DITE only when necessary. The DITE cut through the air, swiftly dropping on Lucille's shoulder while he advanced. Lucy barely avoided a deep cut, backpedaling. However, Veemon circled his hand and thrust the black sword straight through her hand. The blade penetrated bone and metal, emerging out her backhand. Lucy screamed as the dragon pulled the sword out.

"Give up," Veemon uttered. "You can't win now."

She ogled him with eyes so loathing, he staggered. "Yes," she mumbled, her soft voice unable to mask her malice. "I CAN!" Lucy grabbed the DITE's edge with her unharmed hand, holding it tight as she kicked Veemon, enduring the pain as the blade dug into her skin. Once the Chosen was away, she spun and hurled the DITE towards the pile of rubble and dashed for Veemon, who stopped her by firing bullets into her legs using his SIG P239. The move elicited a screech from Lucille Diaz, a shriek tainted with agony and hate.

* * *

Reeves apparently used the extra time to recover and destroy a section of the concrete perimeter, causing plenty of rubble to plummet and produce thick dust clouds in a feeble attempt to hide.

Fearlessly Christopher entered the cloud. "Don't think you can hide," he said, his eyes still tinted blue. Exactly half-a-second later Reeves appeared, trying to smash Chris's head from behind. "It's useless!" he bellowed, raising his hand, warding off the ambush with circular movements, before plunging his palm deep into the man's belly. Hurled airborne, Reeves aimed his weapon and fired C-grade æther.

Chris countershot, raining B-grade æther on him. He sprung from left to right and back, thwarting with Reeves' aim, while overwhelming him with a quick trigger finger. The Colonel landed on his back, still firing at Christopher in self-defense. Drawing from recent experience, Chris set his sights on the Colonel's rifle—it was the very last one in the immediate area. _Remove it, and I win._

Every bound, every second, brought Chris closer to Reeves. Despite constant d-modifications, Reeves had trouble keeping up with his movements, which he exploited even more. Entering optimal proximity, Christopher swatted the rifle and grabbed it, forcibly separating its owner from it through a powerful kick. Colonel Reeves recovered quickly, fast enough to watch Chris toss his precious weapon high up and shoot it until nothing was left. "This battle's over, Colonel." He aimed at Reeves' head. "Now… let's hear your answers."

Chris waited for the Colonel to crumble before him in defeat, losing all hope, left with only the choice to answer his questions to stay alive. He planned on killing Reeves afterwards, then deserting Veemon and the Satellite Base to their own devices—he wasn't supposed to be here in the first place! _It's less dangerous that way_. Christopher's self-reassurances were futile, unable to calm that desire to stay. The loss of his companions manifested in Chris as a want for companionship, no matter how unethical it was to just drag others away from whatever responsibilities this universe held for them. _At least it won't happen again_. Still, he couldn't let go of Sally's tragic death, and the others before her.

However, Colonel Reeves did something unexpected: he **sneered**. Even in the face of defeat he leered at Christopher with full confidence. The man undid the catch, grabbing the digivice. "From hereon you'll see the true power of my new toy!" Lifting his arms in an X-formation, a red hue began to envelop them, brightening until Chris felt heat emanating from the crimson light. "D-Modify!"

Colonel Reeves released the formation, lashing his arms downward. It had the curious effect of _firing_ the cross-shaped light. "**X-LASER!**"

"Whatever you do, it's useless!" Christopher bellowed, standing in place. Dodging was unnecessary. "Nothing you throw can hurt me!" He welcomed the X-Laser with open arms, receiving it fully. It exploded upon impact.

.

Christopher emerged totally unscathed… or so he thought. His makeshift strap fell, releasing the white staff on his back. An X-shaped wound appeared across his torso. Blood dripped out weakly; it was a shallow wound. Then the pain kicked in. Chris collapsed. "AGH!" _W-why? _Confusion took over. _This wasn't—! But only æther's strong enough to hurt me here. _He glared at Colonel Reeves. _Why did his attack—_

"MYAHAHAHA!" the bastard laughed. "Useless? Obviously not!" Reeves looked intently at Chris. He hummed forebodingly, later beginning to chuckle. "I'm **so** going to enjoy beating the shit off you."

Before the Colonel could begin, a bloodcurdling scream filled the air. Chris and Reeves found Veemon having won against Lucille, who had collapsed in torment. The Colonel abandoned Christopher, racing to Lucy's side. Still observing, he heard something land on the ground. A careful scan revealed the DITE lying a meter away, within his grasp.

* * *

Colonel Reeves attacked Veemon from a distance, closing in. Veemon dove and took cover, avoiding the æther. "Diaz! Just **run**!" He hated giving the order, but it had to be done. The mission was a complete failure, most of his subordinates dead. Lucy had just been rendered useless; with Chris still loitering about, her usefulness waned even more. She had to flee; he was the only one capable of killing the two opponents, though he could be killed himself. For the sake of future leadership, at least a veteran should be available. Ivy and Junko by themselves wouldn't be able to handle the Modification Project on their own: after all, he and Lucy were in charge of operations; them, in recruitment. "You can't win without your digivice!"

Reeves healed her legs, watching the blue energy squeeze the bullets out her body. Lucy did not question the order. "I'm taking those dipshits on my own. I'm the only one who can!" It sounded arrogant, but it _was_ true, and she understood. She ran for it instantly, past the newly created break in the perimeter, past Christopher, who was engrossed with Colonel Reeves.

He eyed Veemon; the dragon noticed his gaze, putting up his fists, ready to fight. Reeves grinned. "You're first!" he cried, speeding towards him at modified speeds with arms crossed and glowing. "X-LASER!" Reeves deviated from his path afterwards and strafed, firing æther at the Chosen as he moved, attacking from several directions. He chucked a grenade, its mere handling supercharging it with electricity. "BLUE THUNDER!"

Several blasts of air interfered with its arc, pushing it back. The grenade landed far from Veemon, erupting in a mass of lightning. His X-Laser was dispersed explosively by some obstruction; his orbs were intercepted by celadon æther. Christopher Van Numen defended the dragon, the sword in his left hand, its gauntlet prominently exhibited. He held his gun on the other. Looking at the knot of his makeshift strap, Reeves guessed he put it back on and tied it for a quick repair.

Despite being outnumbered two-to-one, Reeves smirked even more, overconfidence flowing into his very soul. "I've **always** wanted to do this," he murmured, noting the stares on his opponents' crimson and goldenrod eyes. They were silent, watching his every move. "You two better keep your eyes on me; I'm about to show you the **pinnacle** of Digital Modification!" He undid the catch. "Truly, humanity has transcended its limits!" he exclaimed as a bright azure light shone over him, blinding even Christopher and Veemon. "**D-Modify: BIOMORPH!**"

* * *

The light was so bright, it caught Centarumon's attention. The centaur simply stared. "W-what… is that…?"

* * *

Wormmon has finally concluded: all three of them were safe. Nobody was chasing them; not even stray orbs reached them, dissipating as they traveled. He transferred back up to Commandramon and Floramon. The flower digimon tended to what was left of her missing arm, massaging it soothely, trying to make the pain go away. The military dinosaur, conversely, sat on his perch, observing the battle as it passed through his binoculars. He was updated on current events; Wormmon didn't like hearing the way Christopher used his friends as bait to kill the enemy.

They were watching the battle against the Colonel. Veemon had been proven capable of fighting a Modifier. Wormmon was impressed to learn the dragon discovered the weakpoint alone. It relieved him to discover there were several survivors huddling in scattered sections of the base aside from Centarumon. Christopher's interference prevented the Modifiers from conducting a "search and destroy" operation. It was highly appreciated.

A dazzling light shadowed Reeves and all nearby. Then it began to fade, its source rising in the ai. Wormmon pressed Commandramon for any details, since he had the binoculars. This time, it was handed to him. "You better look at this, Lord Wormmon. You just **have **to see it."

What he saw shocked him. Colonel Reeves was **floating**, hovering three stories above Christopher and Veemon. If that wasn't enough, his uniform had been reinforced with black armor similar to Stingmon's. A small jetpack was fitted on the new armor, allowing Reeves to hover. Dark gauntlets were wrapped around the Colonel's wrists, jutting out with a built-in spear launcher, bolstering the durability of his digivice's safety mechanism, though he kept the digivice safely in his palm. He had no helmet on.

Colonel Reeves was unarmed, but thanks to… whatever he did, the man now had two cannons attached to his waist.

_He looks… he looks just like…_

"Paildramon?"

* * *

Veemon was thunderstruck. "T-that's… that's…!" Wordless. He watched Reeves reach down and grab the two waist-attached cannons and pull the triggers. _Those cannons. _"DESPERADO BLASTER!" Energy bullets cascaded down. Veemon was too paralyzed to move. _That attack! _Chris, who ran for safety, slashed the air to force the dragon away before his position was bombarded. Then he leaped up the trees and countered, returning fire. Every single shot from Christopher **dispersed explosively** when they struck Colonel Reeves, soliciting astonishment.

"DESPERADO BLASTER!" announced Colonel Reeves, blasting Chris's position. The blond dodged and came in close, wielding the DITE. The Colonel was fully prepared for this. A single lance extended from his left gauntlet, covered in yellow electricity. "LIGHTNING BLADE!" Christopher barely dodged the close quarters attack, and was stabbed by the second lance from Reeves' right gauntlet. "ESGRIMA!"

The horrified Chosen watched Colonel Reeves lift one cannon and hold it before Chris, prompting him to raise the R-Scanner. "DESPERADO BLASTER!" Blasts of energy converged on Christopher, resulting in a grand explosion. The DITE, hurled into the air, landed next to Veemon, as he finally realized: all this time, the Modifiers were using attacks based on **his** evolutions: Fladramon, Lighdramon, XVmon, and even Paildramon. _Why? Why only __**my**__ attacks? What's my connection to them? There's got to be some reason!_

Sparks of intuition ran through Veemon's head, firing it up. An onerous weight settled on his heart; he shut his eyes, shaking his head uncontrollably. _No, no, no, no! _Tears streamed out as he reopened them, retrieving Christopher's DITE from the ground. It expanded automatically. _I won't believe it. _

Taking one step after another, Veemon raced towards Reeves, slashing the air one after another, hoping to bring him down. None of the air blasts were effective, but that didn't stop Veemon from trying again and again. _I shan't believe it! _

_That's not why you never came back!_

"Daisuke!"

This has become more personal than ever. No words could delineate the anguish tormenting the blue dragon, an agony escalating into poignant screams.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO DAISUKE?"

"WHERE'S MY PARTNER?"

* * *

Christopher crashlanded into the forest floor below, wondering what just happened. Colonel Reeves was struck by æther, yet it dispersed as if he was resistant to it. The armor was barely damaged, and even then the blue lines of energy coiling Reeves constantly regenerated whatever damage it sustained. Worse, the energy bullets Reeves fired had the same potency as C-grade æther. No… that applied to _all_ his attacks.

Wounded, unarmored, and **barely** recovered from his tragic arrival in this universe, up against an opponent resistant to æther and adept in close quarters, Christopher had no choice. He took the white staff from its strap, holding it with one hand. He leaped up and over Colonel Reeves as he attempted several shots on Veemon after brushing off his disturbed interrogation, smirking. "Like I'd know, damn lizard!" Reeves raised his cannons. DESPERADO BLASTER! Now go to hell and die!"

When the Colonel noticed Christopher's position, it was too late. _You're going down right now! _"V—"

"_Don't do it!" _

Chris stopped, hesitating when he heard Sally's voice echo in the innermost coffers of his mind. _"You know what'll happen, Christopher! You promised… you promised me!"_

Colonel Reeves grabbed the immobile Chris and smashed him into the ground. "GFAW!" Blood splattered out his mouth.

* * *

Reeves had to lose first before he'd talk. One look at the Paildramon armor he donned made Veemon realize they **had to** abuse the Modifiers' weakpoint. No other alternative existed: the digivice's battery was practically infinite given his haphazard usage. He had access to attacks from all of Veemon's evolutions up to Paildramon and worse, he was even resistant to Christopher's gun. _Yes, that's the only way!_

Veemon had eyes on Reeves' tightly-held digivice. "We're gonna beat you and make you talk!" he yelled, wiping his tears, rushing him as soon as he and Chris landed on the ground. He was upon Colonel Reeves swiftly, swiping at him with the DITE. Reeves met his attack with, "ESGRIMA!" He followed it with the same stab that struck Chris.

The Digimon of Miracles ducked and inserted the DITE into Reeves' right hand. He pushed it down with his own weight, using it as a lever to force the Colonel's hand open. The digivice was in sight, vulnerable. Veemon reached for it, only for his enemy to belt him with one cannon, launching him airborne. Flying, the blue dragon watched the Colonel modify his armor once more, adding a metal strap to the digivice he held, perfectly securing it.

When Veemon landed on the ground, he found Colonel Reeves aiming his cannons at him. "DESPERADO BLASTER!" As he fired, Chris trained his gun on Reeves and opened fire, distracting the Colonel. He got up and slammed his staff into his abdomen, knocking him far back into the forest.

Chris returned his staff into its strap, not intending to use it. He collapsed, reeling from all the wounds he sustained defending himself against Colonel Reeves. Veemon scrambled to him, tending to Chris. "Are you okay?"

"Barely," Christopher panted. "I'm effing tired; can't go on any longer. This **has** to end… but I don't know how…"

"We need to get his digivice," Veemon rejoined. "That armor will go away the second we do that."

The man eyeballed him. "**Seriously**?"

"Mm!" nodded the dragon. "See," Veemon rubbed it in. "Looking for weaknesses isn't a waste of time, after all!" Then he sighed. "I tried but… I couldn't do it. Now he already has a strap on it."

"Hmm…"

.

"I'm finishing you off right here, right now!" Colonel Reeves returned to the scene, hands clutching the cannons. They could see cerulean light gathering in the barrels, turning green as it did so. "DIE! JUST EFFING DIE! DESPERADO BLASTER!"

Instead of blue energy bullets, a stream of yellow-green energy burst from the two cannons, heading to him and Chris at breakneck speed. "Damn!" Veemon heard him murmur. "It's æther!" He raised his Scanner and forced Veemon back as he crouched. "Stay behind me, Vee!" The two rays converged on Christopher and Veemon. The Realm Scanner dispersed the destructive beams; Veemon watched them fly around them and crash into the ground behind, deleting it in an instant. Their potency was equivalent to the orbs the Modifiers have been using earlier!

Still, the area of protection the R-Scanner granted was too small. Veemon could hardly see it, but he was sure Christopher's arm was beginning to peel away. The blond supported it with his right hand, but that didn't help much, not when Colonel Reeves maintained the attack continuously. "Chris!"

Christopher looked back at Veemon. "Hand me the DITE."

The dragon did so, not knowing what else he could do. He was practically useless. How he wished he could evolve. The thought of evolution reminded him of Daisuke, bringing back the tears in his eyes. What did the DSI do to him? Is he still alive? _Or is he…_

He couldn't complete the thought. What kind of partner was he, to abandon Daisuke like that, to think of him… dead? Veemon refused to consider the possibility! He had to confirm it himself. That was the only way he could ever reconcile with that feeling of dread in his heart. _If only this jerk would tell me!_

Veemon felt Christopher wrap his bloodied right arm around his belly. "What the—" Chris deviated from the æther stream, hurling the dragon far away as soon as the forest came into view. As he soared, Veemon watched Chris maintain the Colonel's attention on him and returned fire, concentrating on the right arm where the digivice was.

* * *

Little did Veemon know that the Colonel's æther beams had an extremely far reach, affecting even monsters far away. The digimon called Centarumon was such a victim. It happened quick, allowing no time to react. In one second the large beam swerved through him; Centarumon almost failed avoiding it. But he didn't escape unharmed. A fatal wound struck him, leaving the centaur weak and dying. This sort of injury couldn't be mended, not even by the Lalamon.

Unable to gallop, Centarumon plodded towards Veemon, hoping he could at least help before he died…

* * *

Reeves continued to shrug it off even as Christopher came close. Then, Chris slashed the right hand, aiming to destroy the digivice… and slice off a few fingers in the process. The strategy was to weaken the armor beyond its rate of regeneration, then break through it **before** it could regain its former strength. Despite this, the DITE did not penetrate the armor so deeply. _Either I was too early or the regen rate's off the scale! _Seeking alternatives, Christopher focused on the thin area near the elbow joint, raising the DITE to amputate the right hand from the elbow onwards. _It'll work_, Chris figured, knowing how many times the right arm endured all the æther he just fired.

Unfortunately, Colonel Reeves saw this coming. He blocked the sword and bashed it straight off Chris's hands. Then he grabbed Chris's face and thumped it on a tree, pinning him down, squeezing it tighter and tighter. "AGH!"

"I'm going to kill every effing monster in this place once I'm done with you, you effing bastard," muttered Reeves. He began quizzing, "Why are you here? **How **did you get here? What's with this 'æther technology' bullshit? You better tell me everything…"

Chris coughed. "Why should I?"

"Here's one reason, asswipe." The Colonel stabbed him with a lance. "ESGRIMA!"

"AAAHHH!"

* * *

Veemon hesitated to rescue Chris. How could he do that when even he lost to the Colonel? He was… he was useless! He couldn't evolve without Daisuke close by! His proficiency with close quarters wasn't enough to fully match the Colonel's, not when he was in _that_ state. This was where he needed help the most, but where was it? Just where was it?

Wormmon was unavailable. Even with Ken around it would've been impossible to beat Reeves anyway! This was a battle they cannot win. Veemon knew how they could defeat the Modifier, but now that he has done something about it, that knowledge became garbage. The blue dragon kneeled on the floor, drained completely of any hope.

They were all going to die. He would never see Daisuke again. In fact, he was probably dead anyway. If he was alive at all… then he probably abandoned Veemon; Daisuke would've initiated communication otherwise. Those thoughts were already lingering long before he and Christopher even met at the Spire of Courage. Three years of isolation could do that to a Chosen digimon.

He never gave up, always clinging to the hope that one day, Daisuke would return. For that sake, he adhered fanatically to his personal sense of justice, shaped by his past joys and tears, his past tribulations. Veemon ensured nobody killed humans in his presence, constantly preached the value of human lives and the idealistic scenario of former enemies becoming friends, of humans partaking in a healthy relationship with digimon as was once true of the world. Fewer digimon believed him as time passed, as the men became extremely hostile, as more friends died under human hands. He was beginning to lose hope too, and would've probably given up on Daisuke and the beliefs representing him if it wasn't for Christopher's sudden appearance. Why Chris spared him after their first meeting was a complete mystery, but the only explanation was that the man sensed some good in him. It was elating: he was the first human he could call a friend. Even better, he became the first testament to his beliefs. _Daisuke would've been happy for me_.

But now, would Daisuke be proud of him? Now that he was so useless, unable to bring himself to rescue a friend? It was ironic: Veemon was the Digimon of Miracles, yet even he was afraid his efforts would all be for naught…

"Lord Veemon, what's wrong with you?"

He snapped out of it. Veemon turned, discovering Centarumon leaning on a tree, heavily wounded. He ran to him. "Centarumon… not you, too?"

"Why… aren't you rescuing him?" asked the centaur, gesturing towards the interrogated Chris.

"But I can't beat him!" argued Veemon. "I'm useless! I'm **so** useless… can't even evolve… I'll be killed the second I try."

"That's the problem with you Chosen," Centarumon complained. "You're so dependent on your partners… you're weak on your own."

The dragon couldn't respond. He was right. As Veemon, he couldn't have beaten his enemies in the past. As Veemon, he couldn't even kick the Modifiers' asses. He needed to evolve back then; now he required a gun, and Christopher's weapon, too. The teamwork was also necessary.

"Stand on your own two feet, Lord Veemon." He looked up at the centaur, who now sat on the ground, growing weaker by the second. "That's how **we** lived," making a clear distinction between the Chosen and his kind. "Weak or strong." The centaur began to disintegrate. His voice wheezed, resembling more like a breath. Bringing his petrified hand up, he pointed to Christopher and then Veemon, struggling all the way. "Everyone… even him… is counting on you…"

He was gone.

* * *

"Centarumon's dead." Commandramon set down the binoculars after seeing the centaur die. He bowed his head, closing his eyes reverently. "It's over," he said. "The Satellite Base has fallen. Lord Veemon's far too deep for us to save. Chris can't even win." Commandramon looked at Wormmon and Floramon. "We should head for the nearest terminal."

Wormmon's cerulean eyes reflected his decision to stay. "No. We shouldn't lose hope."

Commandramon shook his head. "Hope? That silly feeling isn't going to get us anywhere—"

"It did for us back then," interrupted Wormmon. "That's how we beat BelialVamdemon. Besides…"

* * *

("…the battle's not yet over.")

Crestfallen, Veemon urged himself to keep going on. He moved towards Colonel Reeves and Christopher. Neither could see him coming. Reeves probably didn't care, thinking himself too powerful for a Child-level like him to touch. _"Stand on your own two feet, Lord Veemon_,_"_ reiterated Centarumon's words.

Veemon found the DITE and retrieved it, sniffing. Emotions swirled within him, filling him with fear, diffidence, despair, and grief. His heart swelled, fixing the digimon to the spot. _"Your own two feet_," the words reverberated, compelling Veemon to step forward. And another. And another.

He knew there was no way he could possibly win against the Colonel. There were no more plans. Still, Veemon forced himself forward. Christopher needed help; he was the only one who could supply that.

"_That's the problem with you Chosen. You're so dependent on your partners, you're weak on your own." _It was almost laughable to note how someone so powerful relied so much on someone so weak.

"I…"

"_Stand on your own too feet."_

The return of normalcy, of those days long gone. That's all he ever wanted since this stupid war began, since the stupid humans began distrusting the monsters, not realizing its source was far, far closer to home. Was that so hard a wish to ask for? How could it be so idealistic and naïve when the Chosen Children lived it out ten years ago before and after the Digital Revelation?

_For those days…_

"…can't give up now!"

The DITE expanded immediately, responding to his conviction. As much as he wanted to see his beloved partner, Veemon understood he couldn't linger on Daisuke's absence any longer, whatever the cause. Thoughftul wishes would do nothing. In the end, one had to do things themselves. That's how the non-Chosen lived. If that meant violating his promise to Daisuke, if that meant acting on his own…

Veemon slashed the air, discharging strong gusts striking the Colonel from behind. Despite the futility of the move, he even brandished his SIG and shot at Reeves, aiming for the joints in the armor—these were obviously weakpoints.

His actions attracted the Colonel's attention. The red-haired Modifier loosened his hold on Christopher, looking back at Veemon as he responded with a litany of curses. The blue dragon spied his free hand fumbling for the cannon, intent on firing another _Desperado Blaster_. Unafraid, Veemon proceeded, howling a battle cry, readying the blade.

Chris took advantage of this, grabbing Reeves' armored arm with both hands and lifted it slightly, permitting some sight. Veemon watched him raise his feet; Colonel Reeves didn't feel a thing, his armor dulling his nerves with its thickness. Instantly he understood his plan. Veemon nodded. _Do it_, he thought, rushing forward without fear, with full confidence.

Reeves pulled the trigger, just as Christopher kicked up, striking the elbow of the firing arm, distorting his careful aim. The Digimon of Miracles spied the blue energy arcing upwards thanks to Chris's interference. Colonel Reeves, furious, turned back and conjured electricity in his free hand. "You effing cunt! ELECTRIC—BWAGH!"

Veemon thrust the DITE into Reeves' armpit, abusing the thin armor there. Luckily, this turned out to be the arm squashing Christopher's head. Its grip vanished, Chris took hold of the forearm and sent an uppercut straight into the elbow, striking it with such force the joint cracked, effectively breaking Reeves' right arm.

Chris threw a fist at the Colonel's neck, but he missed, due to Reeves crouching. Wincing, the Modifier gyrated and booted Veemon. "Ah!" And the dragon was airborne, clutching the DITE for dear life, knowing full well how vulnerable he was to the Colonel's instant-deletion attacks.

Reeves looked up and dove sideways, narrowly avoiding a slam from Christopher's white staff. The thundering sound of its impact on the ground suggested the immense danger it posed. He ignited his left arm with fire, then its lance with electricity. "KNUCKLE FIRE! LIGHTNING BLADE!" Using it, Reeves traced a scarlet X in the air, facing Veemon as he landed on the ground. "X-LASER!"

The blue dragon braced himself for the attack; if it could hurt Christopher, there was no telling what would happen if _he_ received it. Veemon got up, but it was too late to dodge. The dragon obstructed the laser using the DITE, barely noticing that Reeves had something else in store for him.

"No more miraculous escapes, effing lizard," spoke the Colonel with grim finality, pulling the trigger on his left cannon as he struggled to stretch his right arm (it was beginning to heal). "DESPERADO BLASTER!"

Christopher intercepted the blue bullets using his æther gun, which he retrieved from the ground. He approached the Colonel, distracting him, forcing him to redirect his cannon on him. Veemon dashed forward. Just then, Reeves' right arm has fully healed itself. He raised both cannons, one on the dragon and the other on Christopher, charging then firing them.

Veemon kept charging, driven by a faith Christopher will shield him one more time. Despite all instincts urging him to evade, the Digimon of Miracles plowed through, swearing he'll repay Chris for the defense he's been giving him. As expected, Chris deserted his position to place himself between the Chosen, dispersing the æther streams from close quarters using the R-Scanner. The next moment, Veemon found himself sliding underneath both Christopher and Colonel Reeves, rising behind the Modifier. "W-what the eff!"

The dragon got up swiftly, turning around to slash Colonel Reeves' back. The attack and its generated wind blast launched the Modifier airborne. Christopher prepared to fire, but Veemon had a more productive idea: "Chris! Grab the digivice!"

"RIP IT OFF!"

"Gladly!" bellowed Chris, catching the device and grasping it tight before Reeves could even clench his fist. One strong pull, combined with Reeves' unstoppable trajectory, would remove the modifications. The Colonel didn't fail to squeeze his hand right after Chris claimed its precious treasure, aiming the barrel of his cannon at his face. "DESPERADO BLASTER!"

* * *

Finally at the edge of the base, on the southwestern corner, Lucille looked back, getting a far glimpse of Colonel Reeves kneeling before Christopher, clad in only his uniform. The blond stranger clutched half his face; even from a distance she could see it was covered in much blood. Yet the fact he still stood meant whatever damage he sustained was low. Veemon settled far behind Chris, watching. The battle was over: the Modifiers had lost.

Lucy barely saw Christopher flap his mouth. The man was questioning the Colonel, and she knew exactly what about. Aldo was similarly grilled. She was in no position to help, even if she wanted to. _I'll avenge you_, Lucy promised, steeling herself to walk away, back into the Great Forest, hoping she could still catch up to Aldo and Tina ahead. She, too, knew what awaited the Digital Monsters' prisoners of war.

* * *

"This is an interesting tool."

Those were the first words out of his mouth. Reeves silently watched Christopher ogle his digivice; the goldenrod eyes displayed curiosity and awe. There was a blue sheen over them; it brightened for five seconds. Suddenly he seemed to understand what the digivice was all about. "So it's a neural technology, too."

He nodded. "This will be **very** useful for me." The digivice suddenly disappeared, dispersing into data absorbed into the gauntlet's cerulean gemstone. Looks like the gauntlet wasn't simply a fancy piece of armor as the Colonel thought. "Now," accosted Chris, his voice betraying his intention to interrogate Reeves on the spot. "Where did you get your æther technology?"

Veemon tried to interrupt, posing his concern for Daisuke on Colonel Reeves. Chris shushed him as he did some tinkering with his handgun, eventually managing to remove the top part of the weapon, revealing a pale green core at the back of the weapon. "You see this?" He crept closer for Reeves to see. "This is an æther core. It's what powers your guns. Crystallized æther. Just one can last you years." Chris motioned to Veemon, ordering him to toss him the sword.

Colonel Reeves saw him fondle the blade, stepping closer. "But you can only produce cores with an immense amount of the _right_ æther particles, or with something greater than that."

"**Your** cores," he continued, "could be produced with B-grade æther particles. It takes a lot more time to do the same with C-grades." Reeves could barely keep up with his words, but what he was talking about made some sense: these so-called "æther particles" can be crystallized with technology, and are ranked in grades. The higher the grade, the less one needs to convert to a more inferior-level core. Still, "So what's your point?" hissed Reeves.

Christopher became enraged unpredictably, shouting thunderously in the Colonel's ear. **"WHERE-IS-THE-REALMSTONE!" **Veemon stared on; Reeves could feel some fear in the little dragon, as if he had never seen this side of his "friend". "WHERE IS IT? I know you have it!" Intense pain forced a pained scream from the Colonel, with Chris thrusting the sword into his abdomen. "You wouldn't have æther guns otherwise!"

"Agh… I d-don't know what you're talking about. O-o-o, only R&D has the answers!" The words slipped out his mouth without even thinking. Reeves got his respite as soon as Chris heard it; the sword slid out, even the man calmed down, his emotions getting the better of him—_is he so desperate to find this Realmstone thing?_ Even so, he regretted mentioning R&D. Christopher glowered, eyes losing all emotion. "What is R&D?"

"Go screw yourself," spat Reeves. He wasn't saying anything this time. He'll endure whatever Chris will dish out. The man understood that as well, giving him a countdown instead. "I'll kill you," he sentenced, decision irrevocable.

"Ten. Nine."

Colonel Reeves was tempted to tell him everything, but seeing the ruthlessness in Christopher's eyes made him doubt his personal safety. "Eight." It's likely that the man will kill him the moment he blabs. "Seven. Six." There _was_ the chance of Veemon interfering; the way he protected the dragon made him an unlikely target for any killing strikes from Chris. Nonetheless, being spared would lead to being mauled and mutilated by his fellow monsters. Reeves didn't think the Chosen had that much influence over them after all. "Five."

_Damned if you do, damned if you don't. _That's how this whole bullshit looked like. There was no way out of it. If Colonel Albert Reeves was going to die then he had to go out with a bang. "Four." He eyed Veemon far back behind Christopher, monitoring this merciless act, condoning it out of fear. How could anyone not see its quivering blue body? Chris exploded right in front of the digimon and was now apathetically counting down to the Reeves' own demise. "Three."

His digivice was taken. His rifle was destroyed. Chris struck his kidney and stomach with that stab earlier. "Two." All Col. Reeves had were his standard-issued sidearm and combat knife. Quickly, the red-haired Modifier formulated a plan, one he knew would earn success. He only hoped his accuracy and Christopher's susceptibility to human error would play in his favor. "One."

Chris exhaled. "Time's up, Colonel Reeves." He lifted the DITE, vying to slam its blade down his skull.

That's when he acted.

Rolling to the right, Colonel Reeves eluded the skullsplitter in a blink of an eye. Taking out his sidearm, he knew he only had moments to shoot. The Modifier aimed down the sights of his pistol, shooting Veemon several times before Christopher blocked him with his own body, letting the bullets ricochet off him. He stomped on the gun, squashing it beyond repair and crushing Reeves' hand. "RAH!" Chris shouted, plunging the sword into the Colonel's neck.

Everything was going black. Christopher made sure he'd die a fast death. Dizziness was ensnaring him, accruing weight on his drooping eyes. The last thing Albert Reeves saw was the ashen staff sticking out Chris's back. Ornate, there were undecipherable golden runes on it, all unreadable. Though seemingly metal, it looked like it was smooth and sleek. Now **he** wanted to ask a question, one whose answer would elude him forever: why did Christopher hesitate to use it in the earlier obduracy?

* * *

Veemon was down. "Vee!" Christopher dashed to him without thinking, scanning the status of his body. Three bullets landed on him, one or two in relatively vital parts. The blue dragon was unconscious. He needed medical attention as soon as possible.

Chris then heard a gasp behind him. "Lord Veemon…" He gazed back, discovering a Gazimon, not knowing it was the **only** survivor from Centarumon's group.

"Find someone who can help," Christopher ordered, deciding to stay by the dragon's side. _If only you were here, Sally._ "Go!"

Gazimon departed, leaving them alone. Chris put his finger in Veemon's mouth and pulled it slightly open, turning his head towards the ground. It'd keep his airway open; Chris needn't worry about any complications while he waited… and pondered on what the late Colonel Reeves told him.

"_Only R&D has the answers."_

_._

"R&D, huh?"

* * *

Wormmon saw everything that happened. He was relieved to know the Midnight Assault has finally ended. Veemon may have been shot, but a lone Gazimon was seeking any stragglers among the digimon. Since the Modifiers were unable to do a full clean sweep, there was bound to be someone who could help. "We won." Christopher certainly played his role in this victory, even if he did it unwillingly, pursuing only his own agenda.

Commandramon, also going through the binoculars, looked up at Wormmon with sad, orange eyes. "But, Lord Wormmon… at what cost?" Only then did the Digimon of Kindness realize the magnitude of this Pyrrhic victory.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

[5] This time, I didn't include a "teaser" paragraph at the end of the chapter. I think the ending speaks a lot for itself already.

[6] If you managed to reach the end of this ordeal I call "one chapter", then be happy. The second story arc begins from here on out. Let's hope my writing skills will bring out the best of what I've got planned. :D

[7] Truncated responses to reviews

**TaichiZeromaru:** Thanks for the comment. Hope the quality is maintained in future chapters. Regarding the "one problem", I too find the combat scenes problematic. I have a bad habit of delving into details excessively to the point the story progression is slowed down considerably. I have to address this quick, too, before the plot enters another battle. Any suggestions for me to do this are welcome, because it will significantly reduce the writing time and word count of every chapter. As the author, even I admit the story has progressed very little. The second story arc was planned to start on chapter 6 (transition chap being chapter 5), not chapter 10. God help me resist future temptation of delving into details...


	9. Partners by Circumstance

**Author's notes:**

[1] 17,840 words. A bit higher than the expected word count, but still considerably less than the previous chapter. I apologize for the inconvenience.

[2] Before I go on with the fic, I'd like to send out some words of appreciation to two parties. The first is, naturally, MYSELF. I am not trying to sound egocentric. It's really the truth. _The Interloper's_ reached well over 100K words (thanks to my obsessive-compulsive addiction for detail) and is now officially in nine chapters, and still counting... hopefully. :) Plenty of perseverance in proofreading and constant attention to detail in the narrative was needed for this. And to add, I have broken free from my personal "Chapter Eight" curse. In all - I mean ALL - the stories I have made, whether they were fanfics or original works, published or unpublished, NONE OF THEM EVER MADE IT PAST CHAPTER EIGHT. No joke. I really mean it. The very fact that I published Chapter 9 is a milestone in itself for me. ^^

The second party I'd like to thank is YOU, the reader. This isn't some ass-kissing. I'm dead serious about this. Thank you for enduring all my long chapters. Few of you have probably encountered fictions whose word counts are just as long or even longer than mine. Regardless, they're all a bitch to read in the end! Still, knowing I'm actually getting people to read what I'm writing and even put in some thoughtful reviews (that _actually _contain criticism.) is an awesome motivator.

[3] One last thing. The chapter is replete with character-to-character dialogue. I've gone through hell working the conversations in my head, and I am not sure if the end product satisfies YOUR standards of how the canon characters (like, say, Ken and Wormmon, for instance) would sound/read like. If you have any suggestions on how I can improve my portrayal of the canon characters, put it in a review, or send it in PM form. Either way, it doesn't matter so long as I get it. I want tips _specifically _on the Yagami siblings and their digimon because they're debuting in the next story arc.

[4] Now go and read the chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

The Digital World. A colorful realm spawned from a mass of trash data accumulating within a growing network on the advent of the 3rd millennium. Monsters populated this world. Monsters of various shapes and sizes, of colors vibrant and dull.

Monsters capable of rational thought. Digimon, they were called.

Christopher Van Numen found himself in this world the other day, entering through a portal only someone like him could employ. His heart and body burdened immensely, the blond was met with hostility from the onset, assaulted by an enormous rhinoceros-like creature whose introduction bore the intent to murder him.

Understandably, caution pervaded his response when he woke up with a blue dragon as high as his waist sitting next to him. Why he did not kill the beast escaped him, but this creature disarmed him with its curiosity, causing an embarrassment that led to an offer of friendship—along with a disturbing first impression. Christopher was not surprised, considering he choked the little guy until he blacked out when they made contact.

Since they shook hands in that cave, Veemon—an apt name given the prominent yellow V-shaped mark on his forehead—had a disposition vastly different from the dumb beast that greeted him with rage and from the other monsters the cute, childish, and playful dragon called friends.

Veemon was instrumental to his continued survival, having brought Christopher to a satellite base in the Great Forest, a land blanketed by unnaturally tall redwoods and other such trees, every one reaching for the skies, their branches thick and sturdy enough to handle a grown man's waist.

At this very moment, Chris was perched on a branch over ten stories aboveground, leaning on the wide trunk as he ruminated on the battle that had taken place the other day, recalling the scandals his very entry sparked, the undeniable distrust exuding from every one of Veemon's so-called comrades. The Digimon of Miracles fought on his behalf all the way, defending Chris's trustworthiness, even as the blond was being interrogated without dignity behind his back, slapped around and shot at like a prisoner-of-war.

For Chris, the questioning was more annoying than it was agonizing. Rather than slaughtering all his "captors" and escaping the base, he had elected to endure it, if only to acquire some trust. Such debasing acts were customary for him: traveling from one universe to another meant meeting people who did not regard the man with confidence, who were wont to misalign him and tag malice on every single thing he did.

For Chris, acquiring trust was a necessity, one that took precedence over his own pride. He knew from experience these humbling moments often brought plenty of benefits in the long run.

Unfortunately, Veemon had trouble keeping things to himself. Though it was never his intention to do so, the blue dragon he was growing to like inadvertently gave his interrogators details he considered personal. Personal enough to warrant his withdrawal from the questioning. He intended to leave afterward, to do what he was supposed to do, to conduct his search for the one thing he could use to alter his fate.

A part of Christopher did not want to leave the first friend he made in the Digital World, but he had told himself several times he did not have a choice in the matter. This friendship would eventually influence the events driving the fate of this universe. He had to mitigate this strong potential for change before it was too late.

Only when the satellite base was attacked moments after this decision did Chris realize it **was** too late. Human operatives invaded the compound, attacking from inside and out. The three infiltrators that dared to make an attempt on Veemon's life wielded weapons capable of _hurting _the blond, weapons that ran on **his** technology. Weapons that fired orbs of green light: æther particles of the lowest grade. It mesmerized Christopher to no end on how these men procured such arms, yet it did not fail to dampen his heightening resolve to stay in this universe, to stay with the dragon that had befriended him, for this universe now held some promise.

Assisting the digimon in repelling the attack (it was a Pyrrhic victory, to the monsters' dismay) produced a clue to unraveling the secrets behind the æther technology. "R&D" was among the last words spoken by the red-haired operative orchestrating the entire operation. While it obviously meant "Research and Development", Christopher was determined to learn about the organization that backed these soldiers. Its identity had become crucial the moment he found out they were capable of drawing out a power that could destroy him, when everything else was incapable of it.

.

.

A single day already passed since the Digimon Monsters won—barely—the Midnight Assault and defended the satellite base. Fifteen battle-hardened soldiers deployed by the DSI descended on the compound, overwhelming them with experimental technology. Only through Christopher Van Numen was defeat thwarted, yet even his presence could not prevent the deaths of scores of digimon.

Of all the participating operatives, only three managed to survive and escape. Humiliated by defeat and, or so Chris thought, craving for vengeance. Retribution. For themselves and their comrades. It had been a gruesome, lopsided battle. One might even call it a massacre, for the bodies of the dead still littered the forest floor when the fight was over.

The human corpses left behind new technology in their wake, all for the Digital Monsters to take and exploit. Three were the black rifles observed to possess the ability to hurt Christopher, empowered by æther cores of the lowest purity. Six were thin, silver digivices, worn on the wrist and activated in the hand—the only one of the sixth energized by æther, once wielded by the Colonel, had been claimed by its owner's slayer.

But Christopher did not care for this. At the time of Reeves' savage death, Christopher was not concentrated on the spoils of battle, but on the blue dragon he had managed to shoot in his last moments… thrice! Unconscious, Veemon's breathing had been rapid and shallow, his body suffering as it slowly died from the three bullets.

Chris, while pondering over the Colonel's final words, stayed beside the dragon, not once leaving his side, goldenrod eyes peering straight at him, and would have continued their perpetual scrutiny had it not been for rapid footsteps trudging through the forest.

Gazimon had found a Lalamon hiding somewhere within the satellite base. The three digimon entrusted with the medical care of their compound managed to survive the Midnight Assault. Two were preparing the clinic for emergency procedures, while one accompanied the long-eared digimon to their beloved Chosen.

As soon as Veemon was moved to the Command Center, Christopher swept the area for any human stragglers, not wanting to risk anyone sneaking in and finishing the job. This paranoia was unwarranted, for there were only fifteen operatives in the Midnight Assault. Four escaped the battlefield and the rest were slaughtered. Still, it was the only way he could cope with his frustration—Chris blamed himself for letting this happen, for failing the little guy.

Besides, more often than not, this obsession with security saved lives, not merely his own.

He returned to the clinic long after he set out, confident in the safety of the satellite base. Commandramon, Wormmon, and an injured Floramon had arrived there, if only to see how Veemon was doing. None of them paid attention to Christopher when he went inside the clinic. None of them even bothered talking to him, let alone thank him for saving his life, for keeping the Colonel from shooting the dragon further. _How ungrateful_, Chris's mind grumbled.

How the three of them survived the Midnight Assault did not only surprise the blond—they also puzzled him. Unwary of the valor they have exhibited during the battle, Chris eventually dismissed their survival as a result of cowardice. Pathetic and weak.

The three digimon parted ways since then. Wormmon was last seen entering the War Room, never to return. "Went back to the Tactician," Floramon had told him before falling asleep on one of the clinic's many beds.

Chris had long forgotten who this "Tactician" was, but he could not bring himself to care. It did not matter. Christopher patted the dust from his earlier battle with Aldo Kikuchi off his bed and spent the rest of the night lying on it. His eye twitched at the sight of the two gaping holes in the corner, adjacent in all their naked glory. _They __**better**__ not make me fix it._

As he slept, Veemon was transferred to his room for much-needed rest and some degree of privacy. _Respect for the Chosen_, Chris would've conjectured.

Christopher Van Numen woke up after a full night's rest. He deserved it. He seriously did. All twelve hours of sleep. Rested, Christopher took a white shirt and dark grey pants from one of the closets nearby. Apparently humans visited the base from time to time; he was lucky the shirt fit. Tying the white staff to his back, he began a random stroll around the base. Two wizened cherry trees had rooted themselves to the Satellite Base's western and eastern sides, generating a thick fog that spread out from the base. Whoever the Tactician was, he did the right thing concealing the Satellite Base from further detection.

Bored and with nothing to do, Chris climbed up one large tree to the very top, lying down comfortably on a branch more than ten stories high. The sun shone magnificently through the trees, passing by Christopher in its golden glory, its light still unfiltered by the tangled web of leaves below. There, he relaxed, taking the time to finally take in everything that just happened.

Limbering up, Chris knew what to do now. Without hesitation, the man leaped off the branch, falling tens of feet down to the ground, landing on the forest floor with a deafening crash. The jump was adrenaline-pumping, but it had little effect on Christopher. In fact, he only winced, feeling slight pain from his lower-left abdomen. Another day of rest would do him well. Rest wasn't in his mind at the moment; he was far too focused on something else: finding Commandramon.

.

.

"What do you want?" muttered the military dinosaur, gathering the bodies of the human Modifiers with Floramon's assistance. The lone Gazimon was with him, scribbling names of digimon that have died in last night's battle. "We're damn busy, as you can see." He obviously didn't want to talk to Christopher, though he seemed more grumpy than usual.

"Busy?" Christopher queried, shadowing Commandramon as Floramon dumped the body of Mark next to the rest of the pile. The military dinosaur did not respond, barking orders instead to Floramon and checking up on Gazimon's list of the dead.

"We're cleaning up," muttered Commandramon at last. "Also documenting who died last night." He ogled Christopher, looking straight into his eyes. "Including those **you** used as bait." The words were stained with fury, an anger suppressed. Floramon and Gazimon too had the same glaze in their eyes, Chris noticed after a second look.

"I'm only here for one thing," Chris verbalized, going straight to the point. "Tell me everything about the DSI." Commandramon was startled to hear something like this come out of him.

"Not even the Tactician tells us much," rejoined Commandramon. "But why're you asking? It's not like you're going to—"

"Just tell me."

.

.

He heaved a sigh. "Look, all I know is, it's an anti-digimon group based in the Real World. The kind of guns they're carrying, all the people they're ordering around, kinda gives you a hint to how much support they have out there."

"The Real World?" _Not this "Real World" crap again. _Honestly, Christopher had difficulty grasping what Veemon had told him the other day at the Spire. The Digital World was simply an artificial offspring of technological innovations in the Real World, where humanity flourished. Everything in it was made of computer data. That there was a distinction between "Real" and "Digital" confused Chris. How could the dinosaur he was speaking to right now be mere data? How did entering this world convert Christopher into data without him even knowing? The stupid delineation couldn't even explain his sense of touch in this world. "Don't you have anymore information?" Information more credible and relevant.

"Ken Ichijouji," dismissed Commandramon. "The Digimon Tactician. Why don't you just talk to him?" _Not in the mood to talk, I see._

"Well, where is he?"

The military dinosaur paid no attention to Chris, investing his attention on Gazimon, who accosted him about those who perished in the Command Center. Christopher waited for Commandramon to give Gazimon an exhaustive list of all the digimon stationed at the Command Center. How he managed to remember them all was amazing. _I can't even do that_.

"The Tactician won't be going here for a while," responded Commandramon, who noticed Christopher still standing close to him—he was _that_ determined to get answers. The military dinosaur must've felt it. "Wait a few days. He's swamped with responsibilities; heard we just got attacked by the DSI two days ago at our territory near Edo Village."

"I see." _Dammit_. Chris despised waiting. Every second spent waiting was a second wasted. Sadly, he can't weasel his way out of this one. He _had_ to wait. It was a fairly reasonable price for what he's after, anyway, since there really was no way he could resume his journey, not without finding a way back into this… Real World place everybody kept mentioning.

"Oh, almost forgot. How's Veemon doing?" He hasn't seen the dragon since this morning. "He awake?"

"You're expecting that _knowing_ he got shot three times in a row?" Commandramon snorted, inviting a slight frown from Chris. "I don't think we'll be hearing from Lord Veemon for a few days." He looked at him as if he had an eyebrow raised. "Why, you planning to visit?"

"As if!" Chris rebuked. He walked away. "I'm just asking."

* * *

The familiar vending machine slipped into sight hours after Lucille Diaz retreated into the Great Forest, intent on going home. Without a digivice, the Modifier was defenseless against any digimon she'd encounter. Luckily, the worst case scenario never happened. Lucy got out of the Great Forest, just when the entire place was filling up with a thick, dangerous mist. From the distance she could make out Aldo standing by the decrepit machine, waiting for signs of life. Beside him laid another body, possibly another survivor from the Midnight Assault.

Relieved, Lucy strode with ease in her steps. She was safe now. Well, more safe than she could ever be last night. Finding the river itself through the secret path took long. Getting to the shallow portion upstream in sheer darkness took even longer. She watched Aldo nudge his companion awake; it was Tina Fujieda. Somehow she was able to catch up with Aldo, without getting lost.

"**This** is all that's left?" blanched Lucy. "Just the three of us?"

Aldo nodded slowly, compunctiously. "We've been waiting here for three hours. As you see, nobody else before you."

Lucy's fist trembled. She slammed the vending machine, evoking a loud thud. "I swear, those two will pay for this." Obviously Christopher and Veemon were to blame for this, nobody else.

"We're striking back soon, Lucy?" pressed Kikuchi. "I'd love heading back there with the vets."

She snorted. "After that dismal failure? We lost experimental technology and twelve lives. For all we know, the Tactician knows about the attack now and sent out some digimon to buttress the defenses." Lucy gestured at the accruing fog. "And look at this! We won't find the Satellite Base anymore with **this**! I bet you the Tactician already deployed a Cherrymon or two." Diaz sat down. "Nobody's going to greenlight a counterstrike. All we can do is report to the Vice-Chair as soon as possible and wait for further orders."

"You can count me out," floated a female voice.

Lucille glared at Tina. "You're **quitting** on us, Fujieda?"

"The missions I got back in M&A as a mid-ranking soldier were tamer than this," she lamented. "I only joined the Modification Project in the first place because R&D paid a higher salary, plus benefits!" Who wouldn't be enticed by the pay? Modifiers were paid **500%** minimum wage, and that's not including the tuition, housing, and healthcare benefits.

"You wuss, don't you even care what we're doing for our country?" Diaz snapped. "For **humanity**? If we let those SCAI get their way, they'll deceive us all! You don't have to look far; the Chosen Children are prime examples."

"I have an eleven-year-old depending on me!" Tina reached into her pocket, taking out a small wallet-sized photograph, protected in a plastic sleeve. Displayed was the picture of a young girl. She had maroon hair just like Tina's, her smile very disarming. "Yoshino and I only have each other. I went to the DSI only for her sake. If I die…"

"You're tied down by higher priorities," Lucille acquiesced. "I get it." She looked at the afternoon sun as it began to set, before making eye contact with Tina, her eyes boring into Tina's. "At least you have a sister to take care of. My entire family's been killed by digimon."

"…I'm sorry," responded Fujieda. Her defensive gaze became soft, as if trying to sympathize with Lucy. "I-is," she stammered, curious, "that why you're in the DSI? Revenge?"

"I'm **way** past revenge." Lucille glared at her, frightening the Modifier. "Don't you belittle my passion for this organization."

"Sorry!" blurted Tina. "I didn't mean to."

Diaz dismissed Fujieda, ignoring her. It didn't matter if she had no intentions of trivializing her reason for fighting. _Liar. _That the word 'revenge' flew out her lips betrayed her sympathy; her mind connected the wrong dots, misconstruing Lucy's blooming support of the organization's cause, without even seeking elucidating information. _Damn liar._ The yellow-haired Modifier ogled the Black soldier next to Tina, eyeing him condescendingly. "You're opting out when we get back, aren't you, Aldo?"

"Nope." Kikuchi expressed no diffidence in his response. "I'm staying with you 'til the end." Lucy had such a disbelieving glare in her eyes, Aldo was compelled to supplement, "Despite the risks, being a Modifier's a lot of fun. I get to do shit I could **never** do as a regular. And…" she could swear Aldo blushed the next second.

"And…?"

"That's it, I guess," shrugged Aldo. "You want more? I can come up with another five." He laughed.

A bead of sweat ran down her cheek. "Forget it," concluded Lucy.

* * *

"STUPID!"

SLAP! The smack resounded throughout the single bedroom. Wormmon looked up at Ken, into his teary eyes. His partner's hand returned. Wormmon braced himself for another painful slap in the face. "You dumb, little, piece of—!"

It never came. Instead, gloved hands curled him up, pressing him into the chest of his partner. "You could've died!" Wormmon winced at the pain, feeling it on his back, where his injuries were. "You, could, have, died!"

The Tactician sobbed.

Wormmon didn't regret narrating last night's events. The Digimon of Kindness cheated death several times, but in doing so acquired gamebreaking information. He endured Ken's wrath, steeling himself not to buckle, waiting for his partner to calm down. "Ken…"

"Had I known," he murmured. "I would've sent several Perfects immediately."

"It wouldn't work, Ken," stated the green caterpillar matter-of-factly. "Even Adults were killed instantly." The Digimon Tactician barely grasped the fact the DSI acquired high-energy weapons capable of deleting anything they pierce without fail.

"But… But!" the Tactician stammered. "At least, you wouldn't have been…" His warm, purple eyes panned down to the gigantic stab wound on Wormmon's back. Ken forced himself to look; it was so obvious in his eyes he didn't want to gaze at it any longer.

"It's not so bad," reassured the Chosen, proceeding to the information he personally gathered on the digivices, on the new weapons, and on the stranger called Christopher Van Numen. Despite the fact it all sounded quite ludicrous and hardly believable, Ken, when he regained his lucidity, failed to restrain his excitement.

"Using the digivice to power ourselves up," trailed his voice. Clearly his mind was busy working, digesting the information. "I never thought we could use them that way!" He took out his own: a small, handheld device resembling a fancy walkie-talkie. Purple stripes cascaded its side grips. The Twelve's digivice, dubbed 'the D3' ten years ago when it first manifested. "Hmm… Koushirou will like researching this." Koushirou Izumi was always the man for technical jobs. Ken Ichijouji was undependable; his impeccable intellect and engineer-level comprehension disappeared days before the Digital Revelation took place. Although he retained a superior level of intelligence, Ken was a shadow of his former self, but Wormmon loved his partner that way: caring and kind, always considerate of his friends, yet shrewd, tactical, and unrelenting in the face of his enemies. "Do we have samples we can reverse-engineer?"

"Five digivices," answered Wormmon. Ken nodded acknowledgingly.

He asked, "What about those energy weapons?"

"Only three," stated the worm. "Most of them were destroyed by Chris."

Hearing the name made him scowl. Wormmon's story gave Ken a bad impression of the man. He refused to cooperate with their demands; Chris rejected all requests to divulge his origins and his intentions. Worse, he killed their comrades, using them as bait and decoys. His protection of the Digimon of Miracles and the pivotal role he played in repelling the Midnight Assault were discounted in the face of these facts. In tbe end, the Tactician held caution against him, wary of his ulterior motives. "We'll be lucky if Koushirou gets even one," already suspecting some initiative from the blond.

Ken Ichijouji then stared at Wormmon inquisitively. "Why **did** you go off on your own?" The Digimon of Kindness hoped his human half would skip the question entirely; he tried to keep the behind-the-scenes agenda hidden for as long as possible. But it looks like his actions inevitably raised alarm bells in the Tactician's mind.

"I didn't trust Commandramon's report. It felt doubtful," rejoined the caterpillar. "Plenty of warning signs."

"Why didn't you tell me—"

"One of your most trusted officers lied to your face?"

"…"

* * *

After Commandramon's rude dismissal, Christopher had climbed back to his perch and returned to his conjectures and speculations, conceiving theories on how the Modifiers acquired æther technology, his guesses ranging from sensible to absurd.

There was simply no reason why humankind as it was in the 21st century would be granted something as powerful as æther. Technologies derived from it were certain to provide unparalleled military power and a near-infinite amount of energy in the long-term, overwhelming any politician into madness with the sheer volume of military and economic might at his disposal.

He could not help but focus on the æther cores the guns ran on. How did they establish the supply? How were the raw æther particles gathered and crystallized? Did someone develop a machine for this? Or did someone provide an existing æther core, one of a higher purity, a higher grade?

Christopher found the first too ludicrous to accept. The second had more weight on it, but, _who'd be dumb enough to do that?_

A nagging in the back of his mind reminded the blond of an alternative rebuttal, one he hoped strongly to be false. The reminder persuaded him to drop it all, to leave his world of speculations and instead relax, for the fact he had to wait for the Digimon Tactician meant he had some time on his hands. Time to forget about the troubles and trials of his past, the problems of the future, and instead focus on the tranquility of the present.

To his surprise, the night had already fallen upon him. The moonlight was bright enough to cast a dim light throughout the entire forest, accentuating the serene peace it cast him in. Countless leaves filtered the moon's wondrous beams, leaving behind a lifeless luster for the denizens on the ground hundreds of feet below.

_Never thought I'd waste a day just thinking_, mused his trouble mind, even as Christopher Van Numen fell into the compound.

For saving the satellite base from the enemy, the digimon were kind enough to let him stay in the clinic—a tree branch was better than a bed, definitely. When he trotted into the Command Center and went up those stairs, he discovered the corridors to be cleaner and significantly more populated. Even now in the night, a good number of digimon were busy mopping the floors and carrying equipment designed for rehabilitation works on the building. Repair was definitely underway.

Approaching the three-way intersection on the second floor, two black screens covered the gaping holes on the clinic's wall, secured tightly by tape and other fasteners. Work was being done on the concrete, and whoever was in charge didn't want anyone messing up their progress.

Christopher had opted for the long, roundabout route to the clinic rather than ruthlessly barging his way in through the opaque screens, and was already close to the double doors when he heard another door close behind him. He couldn't help but look back and perceive the back of a Lalamon drifting away from the redwood door on the corner.

His interest stoked, Chris rotated and slunk bank. Shifting his eyes for any possible witnesses, he laid hands on the knob and turned it when he was certain no one was looking. The door opened into a plain room, designed by the architect to be as bland and dull as the clinic. Whoever lived in this boring place worsened the aesthetic appeal, having scribbled all over the wall.

He surveyed the room, wondering whose it was. Seeing the bed on the far side answered this curiosity: Veemon was fast asleep, tucked safely under a blanket and bandaged in several places. The Command Center's centralized air-conditioning system maintained a temperature about 18° C, at least according to a diagnostic report by the Realm Scanner.

Instead of approaching the sleeping dragon, the blond panned his eyes. He examined the wall, scrutinizing the scrawls Veemon must have etched in the past. Many of them embodied optimism, carrying a hope for the future, encouraging Veemon to remain patient.

To keep holding on.

"_Daisuke will come back. He's my partner."_

"_Never forget your promise!"_

"_He'll return someday."_

As Christopher went on, he began to notice some scribbles were more recent. _Probably within the past three months_, he guessed. These produced an image of dropping morale. Repeated lines of _"He's coming back"_ abound. Questions were popping up, overlapping with the older, more sanguine scrawls. _"Why isn't he here yet?"_

Catching his goldenrod eyes was a heavily scratched-out sentence close to the bed. _"Daisuke abandoned"_. Though incomplete, it was easy for him to fill in the statement. Even easier to postulate Veemon's reasons for denying it.

Right above the sleeping body was a small 4"×6" picture of its owner with the biggest grin on his muzzle, the arm of a young, maroon-haired teenager wrapped around his neck, bringing both dragon and human close together. Like best friends. Like partners.

Like brothers.

_So this is Daisuke_, Christopher realized—it was no longer a guess, for it was so obvious in Veemon's wide rictus. Written on the picture itself were the words, _"I miss those days."_

When he gazed on the Chosen's, taking in the quiet solitude his muzzle took on in his sleep, a rare insight flowed into him, revealing the weight behind the words Veemon spoke not long after they shook hands. As new acquaintances. As new friends.

.

.

_Christopher noticed his new "buddy" maintained an excited and rather gleeful look on his muzzle long after their hands parted and their introductions finished. Veemon's eyes were glistening, threatening to burst into tears. Tears of joy, or of sadness, he couldn't predict, though the blond could care less either way._

_Yet curiosity impelled him to ask why, triggering a bout of buoyant laughter from the dragon. Tears—of joy—ran down his snout. "You wouldn't believe how _long_ I've been waiting to _actually_ talk to a human!"_

.

.

Veemon's morale had all but perished when they first met, but like an innocent child, he clung desperately to a long-forgotten promise with his absent partner. Veemon must have missed his old life so badly when he woke up in that cavern with someone who didn't attack. To speak with and offer his friendship to Christopher Van Numen—a complete stranger!—was not merely a reflection of his beliefs, for Veemon had a deep-seated longing for something similar to the relationship—the brotherhood—he had shared with this Daisuke, once upon a time.

All the Chosen wanted was for everything to return to normal. To live those happy days once more. It was such a moving insight, Chris could not help reminiscing as well.

.

.

_It was a moment that took place a long, long time ago. Perhaps years before his arrival in the Digital World. The Green Aurora, a spacecraft designed for swift travel across galaxies—across the multiverse—floated in sight of a beautiful and prismatic nebula._

_Christopher Van Numen, taking advantage of the wondrous image, materialized a handheld camera from the Realm Scanner's inventory. Though the Canon IXUS was obsolete in the distant future, the blond kept it out of sentimentality, for his most priceless memories were contained within. _

_Sally's cerulean eyes were curious at the object. "What's that you're holding, Chris?" she asked, hands itching to touch the metal casing. "It looks so… primitive." _

_A man whose face and body were scribbled entirely with scars whistled in awe. "A working 21__st__ century camera?" He sucked an object that operated very much like a cigarette, as if testifying to the ubiquity of artificial relief. "Museums will pay tons of money for that."_

_Chris ignored his unfeeling comment. He turned the camera on, aiming it at his and Sally's rugged, rather intimidating companion. "Say cheese, space pirate."_

"_H-h-hey!" he clamored. "Don't you __**dare**__ point that damn thing—_

_Click. "Too late, Ivan," chuckled Chris._

"_I've always had this with me since I left home." He gazed out the window close by, finding a beautiful, prismatic nebula right outside. Within the confines of the Green Aurora, Christopher felt only safety, liberated from the terrors that continue to hound him, reminding him of his life's burden. "Hey Sally," he beckoned, gazing into her cerulean eyes as she did to his own. _

_They stood before the window as Chris raised the IXUS, aiming the shutter at him and his beloved. "Now smile."_

_A second later, the blond presented the priestess her photograph, eliciting a smile._

_As well as a question. "Why?" Her smooth, supple hands tapped the bracer strapped to Christopher's left arm. "The Realm Scanner can also— _

_A chuckle interrupted her. "So what?" Chris retorted. "All the best memories I've ever had in my life are in here." He kissed her, relishing the sticky feeling her lips left on his. "I just don't want to forget you're part of it when all this is over._

"_Back to normal."_

.

.

"You and I aren't so different from each other." Christopher Van Numen knelt beside the bed. He ogled the blue dragon. Stroked the warm, leathery body. "Fighting for normality. For better days long gone."

Guilt attacked, imprinting the tense moments of last night's battle. Every one. It stoked the reflections of the morning. A mental image of Veemon going down with bullets in his body filled his head, a harrowing mirror to the memory of Sally Xyphard vanishing in a flash of red and lime. _I can't…_

He shook his head, recalling the dreadful circumstances that brought him here, that gave him the friends he loved.

Friends he failed to protect.

A feeling of personal responsibility overtook him, driving Chris further into depression. The more he looked at Veemon, the more he saw another Sally. Another Ivan. Another source of endless despair. Chris knew the easy way out was to hold oneself detached from the world, from reality as it was. The ramifications were obvious: no associations to fuss over. No relationships to worry about. No friends to lean on.

It would result in a lonely life, fueled by selfishness and cloaked in desperation. Hunted like an animal. A prized prey.

Christopher did not want this. No sane person would **ever** want this!

He slowly withdrew his hand, retracting his arm away from the peaceful sleeper. _It's better this way_, he thought, the unimaginable consequences of their camaraderie running through his mind, never soaring to the level of optimism Veemon always seemed to operate from, much to Chris's own surprise. _I'm just a curse_, he repeated, rising from the bedside.

Though asleep, the blue dragon rolled over to his side and reached for Christopher's arm, as if he knew the internal conflict brewing within his friend, as if he had sensed his repressed melancholy. Despite the serenity sleep had blessed him with, Veemon hugged the limb, clinging to it so tightly it could've been his hope. His amity. His very aspiration.

Had Chris run all three metaphors through the Digimon of Miracles, he wouldn't have strayed far from the truth he gleaned from the terse recollection of their first meeting. It was as if Veemon was just as desperate to keep his new friend here, to prevent him from leaving, to instill in him the principles he espoused and lived by: that humankind could be friends. That innocent hope still existed notwithstanding the harsh reality of life.

Christopher stopped the moment he felt the five digits wrap themselves around his arm. Slowly, he returned to the bedside, kneeling. He settled his head between Veemon's snout and neck and made himself as comfortable as he could.

Veemon's leg laid itself to rest on his back as he adjusted positions, turning Chris into a living pillow. The blond did not mind at all, as sleep was overtaking his mind just as much as the concerns he could not address. Was it already too late for him to leave? Was he in this too deep? Too far to undo the damage his mere presence alone inflicted on this universe?

A silent prayer for mercy was the only thing Christopher managed before slumber drew him in.

* * *

The Digimon of Miracles fared well for the next three days. Although he has yet to awaken, reports received by Commandramon asserted improving health, recovering at a rate so fast, everyone, including the report's intended reader, attributed this healing to the dragon's status as a Chosen. Clearly, fighting was not the Chosen's only talent. That the Chosen were special was a shared belief among the Digital Monsters. Across all digimon, from every point in the Digital World.

During these same three days, the military dinosaur couldn't help but notice the reports were no longer coming in every three hours. Lead times were getting longer, and the Lalamon somehow managed to avoid him whenever his orange eyes sought them out. By noon the second day, Commandramon had been so concerned with this sluggish pacing, he decided to conduct the report himself to see just why the blue dragon's health wasn't being monitored diligently. Worry and anxiety, naturally, gripped him; for if something happened to the Chosen under _his _watch, the Digimon Tactician would never forgive him.

Commandramon would never forget the sight the door introduced. Hovering before him were the three Lalamon responsible for the regular updates. Normally, the military dinosaur would've plucked them from the air and slam them into the ground for much deprecation. Whatever impulse to censure his subjects boiled into nothingness the moment his orange eyes landed on the lone bed in the brazenly vandalized room.

Christopher Van Numen, who yesterday admitted no intent on visiting the blue dragon, had huddled next to the bed and fell asleep. His head rested on the mattress, an arm across the digimon's sleeping form. The malevolence and aggression he typically assumed in public was noticeably absent in this peaceful scene.

From seeing Chris's ruthlessness with his own eyes, Commandramon could not believe what his eyes were gaping at. His jaw struggled to reach the floor when, a minute after their arrival, the Chosen turned and clasped the human arm like a pillow, his muzzle unconsciously nibbling the hand. Watching Veemon raise his leg and bring it down on the blond's back, Commandramon was convinced.

Convinced the scene before him was real and tangible.

Convinced any attempts to examine the blue dragon's health would inadvertently wake his companion. A scenario that might cause the examiner's premature deletion.

His orange pools cast their gaze on the floating buds in front of him, their beady eyes going back and forth from Veemon and Christopher in front, to Commandramon behind them. _That's why I wasn't receiving my reports on time_, the military dinosaur realized.

The Lalamon drifted to him, their thin, barely discernible eyebrows slanted. Sadness being emitted from their faces. Apologetic. Hoping their superior wouldn't be too harsh for their inability to follow through.

Commandramon condoned the lapses in performance. "Don't fret over this," coaxing the anxiety from the three. "At least Lord Veemon looks okay." He gave the female digimon a consoling and approving nod. "Just do what you've been doing. I expect at least one report tonight."

Only then did he turn around and leave; the Lalamon left the human and digimon alone, attending to their business. Before closing the door behind him, Commandramon shot one last glance at Christopher, whose countenance lacked the slightest signs of discomfort from being treated as a cushion for Veemon to snuggle, drool, and gnaw on.

Whether he was against it or otherwise, Chris would never admit he was, little by little, growing attached to the Digimon of Miracles. Not to anyone. Not even to himself. While annoying naivety and childishness characterized the blue dragon, Commandramon could never deny the Chosen _always_ had a way of getting others to like him. Neither could he ever forget it was Veemon alone who defended him the other day, when everyone else wanted the man cast out or ripped apart.

Chris would rather seek refuge in the sorry excuse of waiting for the Tactician to come and visit. Why he was inclined to contest this developing attachment was not Commandramon's concern—though he certainly had his own reasons, the military dinosaur was merely uninterested. Commandramon rarely engaged in speculation.

However, what Christopher did in his waking hours **were** worth speculation. Whenever he wasn't sleeping with the Chosen, he was reported loitering throughout the base, wandering the compound. Skulking. Lurking like he had fully recovered in merely two days of rest—a shock to every digimon in the satellite base, for ordinary humans _never_ recuperated that fast.

Not from the wounds he had on his abdomen. Not from the injuries he received during the Midnight Assault.

Then again, Chris was far from ordinary. The blond's suspicious activities were yet more reminders of the shadowy background he withheld from anyone and everyone. _Lord Veemon included_.

No digimon dared to confront Christopher for his actions. Two days were all that was necessary for his unnatural—inhuman—combat prowess to spread throughout the Digital Monsters. Every digimon brought in from the Fortress or other areas controlled by the Tactician had a distinct fear of him. A fear renewed by the quick and sudden death of an Adult digimon three times the man's height, who had been skeptical of the blond's alleged strength.

What was Chris seeking in the satellite base? What would he do when he found it?

On the third night, one of the new monsters, Musyamon, approached Commandramon on the second floor, as he was patrolling the second floor of the Command Center, by the window overlooking the compound. His blood-red Tokugawa-era armor and hefty _dao_ saber normally commanded either awe or fear on whoever laid eyes upon it. The military dinosaur, impressed, blanched when he found Musyamon white with terror. "C-commandramon! S-sir!"

Commandramon did **not** like seeing apprehension smeared all over the face underneath his gawdy helmet. "What's wrong?"

"It's Chris, sir!" accounted the creature. "I just spotted him entering the first-floor armory!"

_The armory? What the hell would he want in there? _He went for the stairs immediately; noticing the samurai digimon wasn't following him, Commandramon revolved and barked. "You coming?"

"Err…" Musyamon fumbled his fingers. "Well," he trailed diffidently.

Commandramon blanched. "You, you're **scared**?"

The _**menacing**_ samurai nodded, ashamed to say even one word.

"I can NOT believe this!" the military dinosaur slapped his own face. Watching Musyamon twiddle around in fear blew his mind. Whatever Commandramon's first impressions of him were, they were going negative fast. Very fast. _What kind of samurai breaks down? _He beckoned the samurai to come. "Well, you're coming with me anyway!"

Growling, "It's an **order**."

"Ch!" Musyamon gulped, cowed—rightfully so; Commandramon, despite being Child-level digimon, were considered high-ranking officers among the Digital Monsters, their cunning tactics and honed combat skills valuable assets in securing deaths of even weak Perfects… alone. The samurai slogged behind Commandramon, doing absolutely nothing to hide his damning reluctance. _Note to self: give this wannabe swordsman the worst training he'll ever have first thing next week._ Turning this coward into a brave soul was something Commandramon had plenty of experience in. Withal, he _was _the one who formally taught Veemon how to use a gun, and contributed to a significant improvement in his close combat skills, not that he wasn't a decent fighter before then.

.

.

A blue sheen flickered out Christopher Van Numen's goldenrod eyes when he filed out the first floor armory by the time Commandramon and Musyamon arrived. He and the military dinosaur exchanged piercing glances; Musyamon shrunk back, afraid. "Just **what** were you doing in there?" grilled Commandramon. No more speculations. He wasn't letting this chance to wring the information from Chris get away!

"You don't trust me?" sneered Chris. "I thought your 'Lord Veemon' made sure you—"

"I don't care!" spat Commandramon, utterly disgusted by the curt usage of the Chosen's name. No matter how he looked at it, it was really hard to believe Chris was developing an attachment to him. "Lord Veemon may trust you, but **I** don't!" He brandished the M16 he carried with him for patrol duty and aimed it on Chris's head. "What were you doing? Tell me or I'll shoot a bullet straight into your eye!" The shot wouldn't kill him, Commandramon knew. But at this range, he'd at least cause a _lot _of pain.

He watched Christopher roll his eyes, apathetic to this situation. "Minimizing my influence," was his cryptic response, spoken without emotion, robotically perhaps.

"What the eff's **that** supposed to mean?"

Chris snickered condescendingly. "Exactly what I just said, you idiot. You **know** I don't belong here. Figure it out."

The man walked up, ignoring Commandramon's vulgar invocations. "And where do you think you're going?" he snapped. "We're not yet done!"

"Veemon's room." Chris yawned. "Oh, and… yes we are. Good night."

As soon as Chris was out of sight, Commandramon kicked the concrete wall repeatedly. "Dammit! I. HATE. HIM. SO. MUCH."

"Sir!" exclaimed Musyamon. "Calm down!"

.

.

Commandramon breathed excessively when he was done, exhausted. The concrete was beginning to shoulder marks from his frustrated beatings. "Musyamon, do you remember what he said?" he struggled to ask. The military dinosaur could barely recall what that jerk told him.

"H-h-he was 'm-minimizing his influence'," the samurai stuttered. "Th-tha, that's all."

He sighed, all the ire flowing out his snout. "I don't get it." Commandramon bowed his head and ruminated. What influence did Chris have, again? Searching through recent memory… he remembered Chris was the one reason why Veemon still lives, why the Digital Monsters won the Midnight Assault (at a terrible price). That's when he apprehended another thing he brought into this whole mess: those energy weapons the Modifiers used, three of which were retrieved from the dead bodies littering the compound. Chris **did** claim it was his technology.

_Shit!_ Commandramon bolted into the armory, slamming the door wide open. He ransacked the small room, hands grasping one gun after another, orange eyes identifying them. In the end, the black gun was determined gone—vanished without a trace. At least the digivices were well accounted for. The military dinosaur glanced down, censuring himself for not realizing sooner, only to see a small depression on the floor. It was a clean work, no signs of forced destruction, as if it was erased utterly.

His gun. That's how Christopher disposed of them. Commandramon rose, understanding what Chris was doing. The man knew the Digital Monsters would try hoarding the weapons for their own use, and hence hunted down the rifles one by one, using the Scanner to find them. One was already gone; the other two were still in question. As an officer of the Digital Monsters, he couldn't let Chris do away with an opportunity to bolster their fighting ability. Exploiting the fact he's asleep at the moment, Commandramon gave a clear instruction to Musyamon. "Inspect the external armory and the barracks! Look for the black rifles! Get someone to help you if you must!"

"DO IT!" roared the military dinosaur, forcing the samurai to scamper, executing his order. A minute later, he slumped down, drained. _Please, please, please, I hope he didn't get them all._

* * *

It was the last thing he saw last night.

Colonel Albert Reeves dodging Christopher's finishing blow at the last second, taking both the blond and the dragon by complete surprise. Three holes were punched into Veemon's torso, where his tough and resilient skin was at its weakest, burning easily into the body and settling in his vital organs.

Pain flared throughout the dragon's entire body, intensifying as the Chosen collapsed, his large, crimson eyes dilating as his vision turned black. Gradually. Veemon struggled to remain awake, only to succumb, feeling agony for every breath he took.

Colonel Reeves profited from his gamble, from exploiting the last few moments of his life. Veemon's quick, shallow breathing permitted him to glimpse the soldier's reward: the ebon blade of a vengeful Christopher plunging deep into the neck without the mercy of instant death.

For many, being unconscious from something other than natural slumber was the same as being dead. All one would remember was a great, black wall. There were no visions. No dreams. No images of a deep, vast tunnel with a light at the very end. There was simply _nothing_.

Had he been conscious during his incapacitated state, he would've agreed with this concept. Perhaps he would've gone mad from the utter emptiness of the dark, soulless space, where he could not even see his own hands even if they were right before his red eyes.

Fortunately, this sort of experience was too surreal to happen in the plane of reality, however mundane it usually was in the realm of fiction, media, and religious speculation. From Veemon's point of view, it was like the dirty and uneven soil of the Great Forest suddenly, on the moment everything went black, became cloth coiled gently around his waist and legs, concealing within a soft cushion Veemon knew from instinct was a bed.

His bed.

In his room.

Something was different, however. One twitch was enough for him to realize this. One twitch to discover his hands—no, his entire body—was curled around a firm, yet comfortable object. Warm air intermittently blew onto his sternum, following the rise and fall of a surface his leg rested on.

As the dragon's eyes bloomed to life, the vision they granted recognized the bush of blond hair next to his muzzle. Sitting up to investigate was unnecessary, for he had, in an instant, understood the first human friend he made in three years had kept him company, tucking his head by the curve of Veemon's snout and throat for comfort, the arm set in front of him with the Chosen's hands clasped onto it like a teddy bear.

It was obvious Christopher did not mind the prospect of Veemon degrading him into an object to unconsciously hug in his sleep. This sight induced neither astonishment nor surprise, nor rumination; only a smile full of mirth, rather, as he interpreted this moment to be the man's recognition of their friendship and acceptance of it. It dismantled all notions, all postulates, asserting the blue dragon had been a mere tool for his new friend. A stone to step on.

There could be no other analyses.

The Digimon of Miracles lifted his leg off Chris's shoulder, believing it rude to have wrapped himself around his friend as if he had been a stuffed toy. As Veemon relinquished his tight grasp on the blond's arm trying to sit up, his slight movements caused his companion to stir. "Hey," Chris spoke, managing a grin, one in which either joy or relief were identified. "Finally woke up, eh?"

Thoughts of his unconscious state were the first things to pop into his head. "How long was I—

A grunt from Christopher interrupted him. His attention seized, the blond raised his hand, four fingers up. "Four days."

"**Four**?" Veemon cringed. _Whoa_. Chuckling loosely, "Guess I… I've been out for a while."

A nod. "You were." Chris shook his head, finding amusement in his thoughts. "I spent most of my time here, to tell you the truth."

Veemon blinked. Twice. "Really?"

"Really." A second later, Chris scratched his head, explaining in a sheepish tone, "I don't know why, Vee, but I feel better just staying here."

A smile formed on Veemon's muzzle. "Awww," he crooned, unable to suppress a childish, appreciative giggle. "Thanks."

The blond reached for his head and rubbed it a few times. "Don't mention it." Then he laughed, enticing the dragon to stare oddly.

"What's so funny?"

Christopher shot a passing glance at the door and pointed at it. "Eeehh, I've been seen hanging out beside this bed so many times, one of the floating flower things taking care of you told me you'd wake up after _six _days." Cupping his chin for a fleeting second, "You were already healing quick for someone who got shot three times—and in vital areas! I remember being told it's because you're special or something.

Veemon watched his blond friend rise and take a seat right beside him, the two of them leaning on the wall. "For you to wake up two days ahead of schedule," Chris went on, putting his arm around the dragon's shoulders. "It's a pleasant surprise, isn't it?"

"Yeah," retorted the Chosen. Quietness stilled his tongue, as his last memories of the Midnight Assault lingered in his mind, now that Veemon's logical reasoning was no longer encumbered by both the shock of his awakening and the fatigue beleaguering his full-grown, three-foot body.

Veemon could still visualize the transformation Colonel Reeves undergone, the deceased soldier becoming something _like_ Paildramon. Thinking about it never failed to send chills down his spine. Frustration also accompanied the nervousness that attacked—Christopher Van Numen hoarded the spotlight, never giving Veemon the opportunity to extract information on Daisuke Motomiya. Desperation seemed to accompany his voice, which would've been forgivable had Chris chose not to hijack the short conversation and hog the questions to himself. A rude and brusque decision. One that angered Veemon.

One that also disappointed him. _I wonder how I'll find clues on Daisuke now_. His head drooped, ears becoming limp. _I don't have leads anymore_, a_ll thanks to you!_ A frown appeared on his muzzle. His hands gripped the blanket, crumpling the fabric, the stubby claws threatening to damage the cloth.

"Vee..."

The dragon relinquished his hold, attention now on the man responsible for his plight. "What?" a dry response escaped his snout.

"You're _glaring_," said the blond. "Are you okay?"

"Just thinking about Daisuke," whispered Veemon, releasing a melancholic sigh. Tears as clear as water drenched the sides of his muzzle, streaming down one by one. "They've done something to him, Chris! I can't, I can't stop thinking about it!"

_How you took the opportunity from me!_ He let the anger slide. Cool off. Christopher did not deserve his rage and frustration, for he had been just as desperate as he was, seeking information from the late Colonel Reeves. Further, Chris had been with him for almost the entire time he was asleep. How could he shove away someone that concerned for his sake, when the only transgression he had ever done was a short and temporary bout of selfishness?

It wasn't like Christopher denounced their friendship or betrayed him for whatever he was seeking. Veemon believed detestable and utterly unforgivable acts, decisions, were beyond the blond. Far from Chris's mind.

The Digimon of Miracles' fist punched the wall, a clear _thud_ echoing in his and the human's ears. "Rrrrrr!" He growled, forgetting about the human beside him. "If only he'll let me go!"

"Go?" Chris repeated. "Go where?"

"To the Real World!" he said, explaining, "Where I can find the DSI." _Where I can get answers!_ Veemon hissed, "But Ken never gives me the green light. He won't allow—

A low hum filled the air, quenching the aggravation and frustration boiling within the dragon. Its source was right next to him. He stared at the blond, eyes trained on the fingers stroking their owner's chin. "So there **is** a way to get there," he murmured.

"Since _when_ were you interested in the Real World?"

"Since four days ago," came the deadpan rebuttal.

The Chosen froze. Motionless, crimson pools hovered in place, glistening as Veemon ogled the blond through them. _Since I blacked out? _"Why?" he asked, aware it was a stupid question the before it rolled off his tongue.

In Veemon's defense, he did not think of the impression it might imprint on his friend. Christopher has been with him for a few of his waking hours, and he was certain Chris could tell this was a question aimed not at being intentionally obtuse, as Veemon already had a distinct idea to the reason behind his fledgling interest in the Real World. It was a question intended to fish for information; an opportunity for Chris to open up, to deepen his friendship with the Digimon of Miracles and, the blue dragon hoped, possibly clarify some of the many mysteries surrounding this stranger.

After all, Veemon was a digimon characterized by curiosity. Of course he had to satisfy it! There was nothing wrong with trying to ascertain the causes behind everything unnatural behind the human he befriended so recently. Nothing at all.

Nonetheless, Christopher Van Numen submitted a guarded reply, as if privy to the invasive goal. Or perhaps, the dragon's mind suggested, out of habit. "They've got what I want." Veemon tensed slightly when the blond's hand moved of its own accord, beating the Chosen's to his muzzle. Chris was nonchalant, even as his bare fingers wiped the drying tears off the dragon. "No," he corrected himself. "What I **need**."

Veemon kept staring at the blond, baffled at the contradictory signals being exuded. Anyone observing them would have certainly thought the abnormal human and the blue dragon he befriended were close, but from the latter's perspective, what he was doing only served to confuse him. Christopher did not open up as he hoped, yet the gesture of wiping tears away indicated their friendship had some value to him.

It was as if something was always nagging at the blond's head. Something that made him hesitate. Diffident over the thought, over the process, of becoming closer to someone else. A psychological barrier, aimed at anyone and everyone. It didn't matter if that person was a woman. Another male. Or, like Veemon, someone who wasn't a member of the blond's own species.

Before Veemon could formulate a sufficient retort, one that addressed his bewildering observations, the door to his room swung open. "Wow!" A surprised voice, whiny yet amicable. A voice the blue dragon found familiar. "Veemon, y-you're awake!" The two of them turned towards the speaker, espying a stunned Wormmon standing at the gaping doorway.

* * *

It was the first time Ken Ichijouji set foot in the Great Forest, the first in many months. The Digimon Tactician materialized in the War Room, basking in the regal glory of his garments. His cape unfurling behind him, Ken had never been so close to his former ideal as the Digimon Kaiser, yet never had he been so distant from it, having assumed this position not for his own sake, not for his own selfish dreams, but for his partner's survival, for the preservation of human decency, for the defense of those he once attempted to subdue ten years ago.

Commandramon was waiting patiently for him and Wormmon outside the War Room, now virtually open to the public thanks to Veemon's stunt, ripping the steel door out of its hinges four nights ago. In contrast to the bland serenity of the corridors (one would do well to ignore all the construction work and tools scattered across damaged areas of the hallway), the digimon was jittery in anticipation.

Today was unlike any other day. The Great Forest's satellite base—one of the major territories controlled by the Tactician—had been attacked four days ago. Casualties were practically 100%; digimon fresh from training and experienced alike had to be deployed to repopulate the area alone, just in case the DSI mustered the courage to seek out the compound again, even after the terrible losses they faced that night, even after the two Cherrymon guardians churned constantly a protective mist that obscured vision for all beyond the confines of the base.

Veemon, partner to Daisuke Motomiya, the Digimon of Miracles, was, according to morning reports, still unconscious in his room undergoing medical treatment, recovering from bullet wounds to vital organs. The enigmatic Christopher still roamed the grounds, no doubt wandering the compound out of reasons only he could provide.

The Tactician's agenda for the visit were easy to recall. One, verify fortification adequacy. Two, check on Veemon. Three, figure Chris out—his background, his abilities, and more importantly, his motives. Ken found Christopher's humanity understandably difficult to believe, considering his digital half's and Commandramon's accounts of his superhuman strength and durability, not to mention the alien technology constantly on his person.

That he appeared out of the blue was suspect. No matter how much the Child of Kindness would love to attribute his appearance to a miracle, Christopher's perceptible animosity towards anyone who thought him an ally and ambiguous intentions ensured he was a liability. Albeit one they couldn't afford to antagonize.

Commandramon genuflected before his master like a dog. Ken flinched from the gesture, feeling a dull pain from the memories of his past as the Digimon Kaiser. "Ken Ichijouji," the prehistoric soldier greeted, not noticing the Chosen Child's discomfort. "The Digimon Tactician. It's been a while."

"F-Four days, you mean," Ken managed, clearing his throat to dispel the uneasiness. "A bit short, isn't it?"

"True," acknowledged the dinosaur, quipping. "But a lot could happen in those four days." A direct allusion to the attack. Commandramon led the human-digimon pair to the shattered window, where the Chosen Child and his digital half could view the panorama of restoration happening in the Satellite Base at that very second. "Since repelling the DSI we've begun rebuilding the base and gathering the spoils they left behind."

Commandramon's orange eyes and Ken's purple orbs locked on each other. A silent, and probably awkward, second elapsed before the dinosaur shut his eyes and bowed his muzzle in deference. "I'd like to thank you for sending us some reinforcements."

"I had to." Ken scratched his head, uneasy at his subordinate's reverence and respect. "And you don't need to bow your head like that to me, Commandramon. I'm not the Kaiser. I'm just your Tactician."

The dinosaur blinked. "B-but, sir!" He stammered, "It's not what you think—

"I _know_," Ichijouji cut in. "Still, there's no need for all that. Wormmon told me you lacked manpower for repair work and base defense as most of the digimon under you and Leomon were slain. That's it." He inspected the corridor, examining the hole only Veemon knew was caused by the intense combat between Christopher and two Modifiers. A column of concrete covered half of its height, drying in the morning breeze. "Well, you seem to be doing a good job delegating tasks."

"Thank you," replied Commandramon.

"So," the Tactician went straight for the first item on the agenda. "How are the new fortifications?"

Before his subject could speak, "Hey Ken," interrupted Wormmon, leaping off the sweet spot on the shoulder. "I'm visiting Veemon first. Haven't seen him since that night."

Ken nodded in approval. "Alright, but wait for me there." He rubbed the caterpillar's head, eliciting a joyful trill from his partner. "I'll catch up to you soon." They parted ways, with the Digimon of Kindness trotting towards the three-way intersection and his human half heading the opposite direction, Commandramon in tow.

"Okay!" Wormmon chirped.

.

.

Veemon's door was ajar when Wormmon arrived at the wooden panel. He could hear voices from within. _It can't be_, the caterpillar doubted. Lalamon's analysis of Veemon's injuries and current state asserted the blue dragon wouldn't be regaining consciousness until five or six days after the Midnight Assault. In retrospect, Veemon's level of endurance amazed Wormmon, for he fought the Modifiers alongside Christopher Van Numen despite the staggering accumulation of stress and damage his body had borne since the Digital Monsters' failure at the Spire of Courage.

He barely had time for rest when the DSI forward team attacked, and the poor monster had already been suffering from anxiety considering how ardently he defended Chris before and during the interrogation.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, startled to see one of his closest friends awake, and relieved as well. "Veemon, y-you're awake!" His azure eyes recognized Christopher kneeling beside the bed, one hand on the dragon's muzzle, swabbing something off his ashen cheeks. A little crust glittered on the blond's eyelids, pointing to a recent awakening.

_So he's been sleeping here_, he inferred. Wormmon could've sworn the blond moved out of the Satellite Base long ago, or perhaps camped somewhere far from its populace, given the discrimination and suspicion he was subjected to on arrival. Truly, it was an astonishing development.

Veemon's joy for the sight of his fellow Chosen was quick to snap the Digimon of Kindness out of his stupor. "Hi, Wormmon!" he cheeped. "Only for a few minutes, really," the dragon chuckled. "How're you?"

"Just came from the Fortress," replied the caterpillar. "…with Ken," he added.

Veemon's mouth became a gaping hole. "Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh," he mouthed, like the mere mention of his partner's name was supposed to conjure uneasiness. "And?" he pressed. "How'd it go?"

At that moment, the context of the last time he had seen the Digimon of Miracles dawned on Wormmon. Ken was blissfully unaware his partner acted on his own, conducting an investigation in the Satellite Base, not realizing the next time he saw his beloved partner, the digimon would have an unsightly gash on the latter end of his body.

"Ken was **livid** when I got back," Wormmon replied, once he had crawled closer to the bed, if only so he could have a proper conversation with his fellow Chosen. Hesitation was absent in his voice, for the gaucherie of the subject had four days to vanish.

"Did he go 'Kaiser' on you or something?" Veemon joked, alluding to the way Ken used to slap him around and beat him senselessly, out of either frustration or condescension, ten years ago when he was the antagonist, unsuspectingly influenced by the Dark Spore.

Wormmon's antenna fell, recalling the way his human half smacked him the day he returned. The grown man _kicked_ him after examining the wound he got from the Beast Sword that night. "Now that you ask," he murmured, observing the dragon's contracting pupils at the correct assessment of the caterpillar's body language, "yes, he did." He sighed. "I **did** cause him a lot of worry…"

"Hey, hey," Veemon cheered. "It's okay." He gave Wormmon's back a light rub; the Digimon of Kindness liked the softness of the dragon's hands, but the gesture paled to the way Ken did it. His partner always knew the right spots, not to mention the right methods to bringing out the affectionate trill Wormmon would chirp in satisfaction. "That's _nothing_ compared to what I'm gonna do to Daisuke when **I** see him!" he chuckled, making him wonder what sort of mischief Veemon had in mind.

The two of them laughed.

Both were oblivious to the blond man resting his head on the mattress with a rather distant gaze in his goldenrod eyes, having nothing else to do but stare at the white hills and crests of the blankets, some held up by Veemon's lower body, his hands nothing more but natural cushions. He had nothing to do with the prate conversation, for the two Chosen digimon were busy gossiping on the latest developments with their friends back in "the Fortress", the fitting name the Digimon Tactician gave his headquarters. Wormmon happened to be talkative, or better yet, loquacious, whenever the subject shifted to Ken Ichijouji.

If anyone, even Veemon, were to study this scene, it would certainly look like Christopher was—but not intentionally—alienated by the two monsters next to him. The apathy glazing his unnatural eyes was a clear sign he did not mind the lack of attention.

It would be clear to any observer, if not fully transparent, how Chris and Veemon's friendship flagrantly reversed the traditional roles assumed by the human-digimon partnership. Had this scene taken place in the Real World under all assumptions of normality, this animated conversation would've been conducted by a pair of humans. They would be the ones filling the air with their voices and unimportant chatter; only the digimon would have the same, unconcerned haze of Christopher Van Numen blanketing their eyes.

Neither the blue dragon nor the green caterpillar was aware of the blond's presence until Veemon questioned Wormmon on Ken's visit. "So why's he here? Official visit or something?"

"The place's being repopulated, Vee." Mild irritation tarnished Chris' sentence, as he did not expect his draconic friend to ask a question so banal. So obtuse. "Construction's underway all over the base. Inside this building and out! The other day I saw a couple of two trees—**really** old and **really** thick—guarding the entire compound." He tilted his head, unable to believe the words coming out of his own mouth. "Making some kind of mist from their bodies.

"This Ken you two were talking about," the man turned his head so he could look at both Veemon and Wormmon in the eyes. Either digimon were staring back, caught off-guard by the blond's sudden actions. "He's the Tactician everyone's following, right?"

Only the caterpillar nodded.

"I think he's just checking the defenses or something. If this place was important enough for him to go here, I'd do the same thing in his shoes."

"Uhhh huuuhhh," Veemon drawled, not knowing what to say to that. His eyes decided to give the dull ceiling their full attention for a full ten seconds before he giggled. "You're right!" Rumpling Chris's hair, "Makes sense to me!"

Wormmon let out an awkward cough. "Hey," he crowed. "Christopher, right?" The only human in the room focused his eyes on the green digimon. All ears. "I didn't think you'd still be here, not after what happened." He was certain Chris understood his reference to the manhandling he received during the interrogation four nights ago. Although it could've been just as easily extended to the harrowing battle all three of them partook in and survived. "Why did you stay?"

The man blinked, like he never anticipated someone asking him this question. As if it was perfectly normal, if not expected of him, to stay in the Satellite Base. Chris needed a few seconds to prepare his response, but before any word was spoken, Blue arms snaked around the blond's head and pulled it up underneath his own with little resistance. "H-hey!"

This complaint was ignored. "Wormmon!" he admonished. "**Must** you ask him that?" Judging from the closed eyes and the wide grin, the dragon couldn't have been happier even if he tried. Chris was in the process of assuming a more comfortable seat _on _the mattress when he was drawn closer. "Christopher's worried about me!" Veemon nuzzled the blond's cheek, laughing cheerfully. "He's been sleeping with me the past few days. Told you we're good friends!"

There was nothing Wormmon could say to dispute that. He had to concede, of all the times he had seen Veemon in the past three years, this morning was probably one of the happiest for him. The dragon's joy was amazing, considering the somber and dejected ambience his room emitted. Despite all the mysteries surrounding Christopher, the dragon's fledgling relationship with the blond lifted his spirits to a height he hasn't seen for years. The Digimon of Kindness dared to think his fellow Chosen was almost as happy as he was before he and Daisuke separated.

Still, that statement didn't, and **will never**, mean Daisuke Motomiya could be replaced by this stranger. Nothing could _ever_ substitute for the bond between a digimon and his one and only partner.

Seeing Chris's reaction to Veemon's affectionate behavior, however, came as a shock for Wormmon. "Y-yeah," he watched the man _sheepishly_ mumble, struggling playfully against the dragon's headlock.

The lethargy and gaucherie in the blond's movements stunned the Digimon of Kindness. _This is the same guy who screamed at us and pounded me into the floor?_ As much as Wormmon had difficulty accepting what was happening before him, he could not reject the telltale signs of concurrence in those goldenrod eyes. From the way Christopher feigned indifference, either he was already aware of this truth and had no idea what to do about it, or he just didn't want to admit he was slowly becoming friends with Daisuke's digimon partner.

Regardless, Veemon would still have to find his Chosen Child. That the dragon was still alive at this moment meant Daisuke was somewhere out there, in the Real World. He hoped Christopher, if he truly was concerned for Veemon, would choose to support him. To stand by his side like any close friend would. Like Daisuke himself would.

Wormmon found solace in Chris' decision to stay in the compound, his confidence growing on the discovery he slept next to Veemon while the digimon recuperated from the tolls of defending the Spire of Courage and the Great Forest's satellite base.

"W-well, the thing is," Christopher added, letting Veemon carry on though the blue dragon had long loosened his grip. "I also want to know more about the DSI. That dinosaur soldier thing told me to ask Ken when he comes here."

The supplementary response worried the green caterpillar. It reminded Wormmon of the fact Christopher Van Numen was not tied down, was not obligated, to Veemon. He wasn't his digimon partner; he certainly wasn't related to the Chosen Children for that matter, let alone the DSI. Christopher may have elected to stick with Veemon _now_, but how long would it be before he left the blue dragon pursuing his own agenda? To what extent was the priority—the importance—assigned to those goals?

Sadly, these were the furthest from Veemon's mind. Had he possessed the common sense to consider it, perhaps he could've been less struck by the events to come. A few days later in fact, the Digimon of Miracles, in retrospect, would reflect on this moment and chastise himself for not having the foresight on anticipating Christopher's choices in the near future.

Like Fate sought evidence of this paradigm, Veemon ejaculated in an instant, agog. "You could've just asked me, Chris!" Excitement filled his voice. An unmistakable glint of joy, which intertwined with the hum that signaled an immense mental upheaval aimed at recalling details long forgotten. "Hmmmmmmmm, from what I remember, it's a, aaahhh, uuummmm…"

Veemon dawdled. "Errrr, wait, wait, I think it's—

Wormmon's azure eyes rolled. _At this rate, he'll take an hour!_ "A global coalition," the digimon interrupted him, "organized to 'acquire an in-depth understanding of the Digital Revelation and establish rapport with self-conscious artificial intelligences'. That's how they project themselves to the world."

"C'mon!" snapped the dragon. "Don't do that, Wormmon! I almost had it!"

His fellow Chosen did not acknowledge his impulsive remark, proceeding with a quick one-minute description of the organization. In a few words, it was an international organization supported by several world powers. "Created solely to subjugate digimon to humanity: the Digital Suppression Initiative."

Chris criticized the blue dragon. "Sorry, Vee, but you _were_ taking a little long."

Veemon sulked. "Hmph!"

He gave him a light smile and a tender hug. "It's okay, Vee. It's okay." Chris's eyes centered on Wormmon. "Please," he insisted. "Go on."

The Digimon of Kindness obliged, seeing nothing wrong with giving away the information. Besides, he thought it was an insult to doubt the man in light of what he did for Veemon, and for the Digital Monsters.

* * *

The Digimon Tactician couldn't have been more pleased with Commandramon's report. Comprehensive, it spared no detail as it went through the digimon the military dinosaur requested for in the recent days, assigning tasks to each one upon arrival, acting in utmost efficiency.

A couple of Cherrymon were responsible for generating illusory mists intended to confuse any wayward human's sense of direction and interfere with their communication devices. Two significant deterrents to all attempts to seek the Satellite Base save for a clean and costly sweep. "To discourage the DSI from doing _that_," added Commandramon, "I've scattered several Woodmon and Gotsumon across the Great Forest." Sentinels and watchmen, squad leaders equipped headsets produced by the more tech-savvy creatures under Koushirou Izumi, ensuring quick communication and real-time coordination between the security and the satellite base.

Naturally, a roster of Adult and Perfect class monsters was requisitioned from the other territories to act as additional insurance. The Great Forest's terrain, combined with the Cherrymon's mists, encouraged guerrilla strikes, each frequent and strong. The uneven slope of the Spire of Courage not only prevented the DSI from pushing their forward base further in, but also paved the way for potential harassment and eventual recapture.

"Their forces won't hit us the way the Modifiers did," Commandramon grinned. "I swear it!"

Ken nodded in approval, following his subordinate out into the compound, where countless digimon, Adult and Child alike, were busy setting up the barracks, reconstructing the walls Colonel Reeves had destroyed, doing all they can to facilitate the facility's restoration. "What's the progress so far?"

Commandramon glanced towards his superior. "68%, sir."

"Good," praised the Child of Kindness, who couldn't help but smile at the way every creature toiled to rebuild their refuge. Their home, now and in the future.

Commandramon and Ken were walking by the concrete perimeter when Musyamon returned to the base unharmed and bearing news that could only be good. "Good morning, Commandramon," spoke the samurai. He did not forget to bow his head at the Tactician's presence, not noticing the exasperated eyes rolling at the deference Ken felt was unwarranted. "You, too, Digimon Tactician."

"You're back." The military dinosaur made a soft laugh. "That was fast. Any news on that 'special mission'?"

Musyamon's head bobbed, eyes confident. "Yes, _sir_." He briefed, "Successfully hid the last rifle without any interference."

"Rifle, huh?" Ken looked at the samurai digimon with a critical eye, no doubt framing the context of a situation he had yet to touch upon.

A situation he brought up as soon as Commandramon turned to him to open his mouth and say something about the walled perimeter. "Were you able to salvage anything from that night?" Ichijouji drilled him, his regal voice usurping all the authority of his subordinate.

It also had the side effect of draining the confidence from it.

Although Ken Ichijouji did not impose any restrictions or rules limiting the freedoms of all the monsters under him, as he might have done should his mind still be under the influence of the Dark Spore, of the Digimon Kaiser, there was still a rule, an **unspoken rule**,that shouldn't—that **mustn't**—be violated.

_Never keep the Tactician waiting_, Commandramon reiterated to himself. The Child of Kindness as a person had a heart that embodied the gentle traits of his crest. He was considerate and approachable, willing to listen, and more willing to help. As a _leader_, however, the man was as harsh and as strict as the despised Kaiser, taking on a façade that eased the disbursement of authority and power, especially when it had been needed. That some digimon would find problems with this was an inevitable scenario, but it was one Ken—Lord Wormmon—or anyone loyal to him could dissolve in a single statement. Wouldn't these individuals do the same thing had one of them been in his place, leading a massive army of monsters for _their_ sake?

"We recovered five DSI digivices," the dinosaur counted. "All pending delivery. They're stored the way we found them… a little cleaner, of course."

Ken gave him a quizzical stare.

"We couldn't leave bloodstains and dirt on it."

The Tactician relaxed, sniggering softly. "I'll be taking them when I return to the Fortress. Koushirou will have a field day opening them up. And, what about the guns?"

"Well…"

"Did our _guest_ give you any problems?" He cast a wary eye at the Command Center.

Musyamon stepped up. "He's been skulking around looking for them."

"Looking for them?"

"He's determined to destroy them," Commandramon took over. "Said it'll 'minimize his influence'." He spat on the soil. "Whatever _that_ meant."

"So we only salvaged **one**?" Purple eyes ogled the samurai, undaunted by the discolored skin that would've terrified any normal man.

The opposite, in fact, occurred. Musyamon _cowered_ before the Tactician. "L-like I said, K-Ken, T-t-tacitian—errr, I-i-i-ichijouji, sir—

"Our _guest_ just does what he wants, Ichijouji," assisted the only ranking officer in the base. "We can't do a thing to stop him. He'd kill anyone who tries!" An annoyed groan rumbled in his snout. "I _still_ don't know how he found all our hiding places in the compound."

"Where's the one we kept hidden?"

Commandramon gazed at his lesser. "Musyamon?"

"Buried a few kilometers from the river, sir. Downstream."

The Tactician clapped his hands. "Great!" One of his palms found its way to the samurai's burgundy spaulders. "Musyamon, I want you to take it to the Aztec Temple. Have the Roachmon Brothers will take care of the rest; just say it's for Koushirou."

"Roger!" replied the digimon, agog. He ran towards the barracks.

Musyamon ran _faster_ when Ken's voice floated after him. "FASTER! Never know when our _guest _starts looking for it."

"Have one or two digimon accompany you," reminded Commandramon, yelling after him. "WE CAN'T RISK LOSING IT!" Turning to his superior, "You sure we can rely on them?" He did not conceal his disgust. "The Roachmon brothers?"

"I'm aware they have a bad habit of fighting each other, Commandramon," rebutted the Tactician, conscious of the brothers' ill reputation. "But you and I _both _know they have **never** failed to deliver something to date."

"But," pondered the dinosaur. "Won't it be easier to take it with you on your way back? Hiding it underneath that cape might just—

"You're asking me to sneak it past_ Christopher_?" Ken countered, thinking the suggestion as utterly stupid.

"But he's _always _in Lord Veemon's room!"

"Your samurai just said he's sweeping the base for the weapons!" the Chosen Child challenged. He could not see how Veemon played a role in this. Stingmon had warned him about the machinery in the bracer affixed permanently to his left arm. Surely there was something in there that'd allow him to detect the ebon, æther-powered rifle had Ken opted to conceal it behind his robes, no matter how many walls separated them.

"He spends _hours_ cooped up in that room when he's not out overturning the compound," Commandramon expounded. "The Lalamon check on Lord Veemon every three hours; whenever they come in, he's usually **sleeping** beside the bed!" The military dinosaur did not bother disclosing the extra detail of the man using the mattress as his pillow, his head so protectively close to the Chosen's body the floating flower buds couldn't do their jobs without waking him up.

"I don't know why he's doing this," the dinosaur groaned. "Whether he's worried for Lord Veemon or not—

Ken clapped his hands, perceiving Commandramon's idea. "Are you suggesting…?"

"Yes," he replied. "He'd be too focused on that dragon to even think about it."

Ken took a few seconds to ruminate, keeping an eye on Commandramon's expectant gaze. "Mhmmm." The hopeful varnish was so apparent the Tactician hesitated in his response, but only for a moment or two. "I'm sorry," came Ichijouji's decline. "But I can't afford any risks."

The military dinosaur dropped his head, disappointed. _So much for a good idea. _Ken was just too paranoid. He felt the Tactician pat his back. "You tried," he consoled, his piece of advice mirroring Wormmon's four days ago. "Don't dwell on it too much."

Commandramon smiled subtly. That's what's good about Ken Ichijouji. Though a full-grown adult, the Digimon Tactician retained his kind heart throughout puberty, comforting others when needed, or pushing them if necessary, never forgetting to consider their situation.

About twenty minutes have passed since the military dinosaur's showcasing of the new fortifications. Ken liked the way Commandramon stepped up, taking the mantle of leadership. In his own words, "the satellite base is in good hands." He could feel his ego rising. It wasn't everyday a superior officer, let alone the venerated leader of the movement, would praise him.

"Commandramon," instructed the Tactician, returning to seriousness. "Prepare the Digiport in the War Room. I'll transfer back to Main in two hours. Don't forget the digivices."

"Yes, sir," saluted Commandramon. He started off for the Command Center, leaving Ken behind. Realizing this, the military dinosaur gazed back. "Errr, where are you headed?"

"Veemon's room," he simply replied, not worried at the likely prospect of meeting Christopher Van Numen face to face.

* * *

Wormmon's description of the Digital Suppression Initiative was more than a simple profile. It was a comprehensive overview of the organization. Their philosophy, in particular.

A child borne from the consolidation of multiple entities, from nonprofit organizations and government agencies to corporations and affluent individuals, the Digital Suppression Initiative—or the DSI, as it was typically called—was truly representative of Earth. The United Nations, for all its publicity as a political organization representing the planet, stood in the DSI's shadow, dwarfed, eclipsed, by its vast resources, its powerful authority, and impressive manpower. In only three years, the organization had become the face of humankind when the Digital World was concerned.

The global coalition and the entities it assimilated during its incorporation all stood united on a single platform. They sought total control over the digimon, viewing them as both the scourge of human life and the key to human progress. No matter where they were born, what appearance they assumed, how they grew in life, or who they were attached to, all digimon fell under a condescending label: SCAI.

"Sky?" Veemon tilted his head. The label had a familiar feeling on his tongue. He chortled, nudging Chris in the side. "Looks like their heads were up in clouds, huh, Chris?" The blond gaped at him, deadpan. Now why did he feel relieved at the fact it was Wormmon explaining the DSI to him?

"Self-conscious, artificial intelligence," expounded the Digimon of Kindness. "SCAI. The DSI used these words to reduce us digimon to programs. Objects to **dominate**, unfettered from morals.

Wormmon quivered in his place, suddenly deciding to focus his attention to the floor. "We're **not** complex, living beings to them. We're just tools.

"Weapons.

His antennas twitched. Flared in anger. "Pets."

"Free will," he listed. "Reason. Emotions. The DSI—_humanity_ as a whole considers digimon expressing these as rogue. Defective!" Defects to fix or destroy. "They believe we're animals—we're things—**we're beneath them!**"

The clarity of Wormmon's statements was transparent. The Digital Suppression Initiative aspired for nothing less than the digital monsters' utter subservience to humankind. Christopher would've also been correct to call their ideal xenophobia.

Veemon's head drooped, affected by the stinging words, as if he had been reminded of a bitter moment in his past. _Probably had something to do with this "Daisuke" guy_, Christopher speculated, glancing at the photograph hanging from the wall behind him. Without thinking the blond stroked the dragon's back, rubbing the warm, leathery skin to distract the digimon from the memory.

It worked.

It also had the effect of Veemon leaning closer, welcoming the massage and, like a child, expecting Chris to continue. The man obliged him as he listened to the caterpillar speak.

Executives of the DSI were notorious for walking the path of arrogance, proclaiming—glorifying their institution as stewards of the new frontier, their dominion over the Digital World as a blessing of the heavens.

"With all the power given _to_ the DSI, I'm not really surprised with their leaders," Wormmon murmured darkly. The very existence of Digimon had literally given birth to a new industry, enriching the investors, businessmen, and charismatic philanthropists behind the DSI's incorporation.

Governments all over the world relinquished most—**all**—legislative and judicial powers to the growing enterprise, insofar as they were exercised for digital matters. The rapid growth it had undergone in its short lifetime turned the Digital Suppression Initiative into an amalgam greater than the United Nations, greater than the largest multinationals, and beyond any regulations.

"Ken—no, _anyone_ can easily see the conflict of interest," Wormmon hissed.

Even Christopher perceived the digimon's point. The DSI had become and still was a business, a military authority, a research center, and an industry regulator, all in one, spread so far across Earth it was ubiquitous. Whoever stood at its helm was the most powerful person in the world. _No joke. _

Chris, however, raised a couple of points. "Won't people notice this and act? Besides"—he peeked at Veemon, who had for the past fifteen minutes been lying down on the bed, smiling. He had set his feet on Chris's lap, unwinding from the relaxed feeling of his fingers dancing between his toes—"not everyone would think digimon are 'just animals'."

Swiftly and mercilessly, Wormmon struck down the man. "They're the **minority**." He huffed, as if his opinion of Chris's intellect had fallen. "I don't know where you've been living the past ten years, but people who think like that became rare after 7/4."

"Seven-four?"

"Fourth of July, 2005: the first time a digimon **murdered** a human family."

It did not sound so farfetched to imagine the media sensationalizing, even exaggerating, the incident to hyperbolic proportions. A swift rumination on this concept permitted Chris to comprehend why sympathizers of the digital monsters dwindled rapidly, and why xenophobia rose to prevalence. Fear of the unknown and uncertainty of the future drove these trends, fueling the irrationality to the point humans worldwide became predisposed to the human-centric philosophy embodied by the Digital Suppression Initiative.

"Our partners—Daisuke and Ken—came up with the idea of spreading the _truth_ through an anime series and a few movies, but…"

"Fighting fire with fire didn't work, huh?" Chris gave Veemon's foot a tight squeeze, for he thought the dragon withered at the mere mention of his partner's name.

A grunt was Wormmon's reply, as the Digimon of Kindness had felt the bed would be a far, more comfortable place to tell a story than the cold and dirty floor. Eyes as cerulean as Sally's examined Chris. They shot a quick glance at the way Chris massaged his fellow Chosen.

"You like doing that, don't you?"

The question was addressed to _him_. "Huh?" It caught Chris by surprise.

"Most humans think it's gross, disgusting, and foul," Wormmon deadpanned, staring at the two hands that spoiled the dragon. "Daisuke would never do _that_. Not without something in return."

Veemon, the recipient of this foot massage, did not comment. Neither was he available for one: he had fallen asleep.

"I… guess?" Chris shrugged. "People overreact too much. **I**don't think like that." He smelled his fingers, not seeing Wormmon recoil in distaste. "Hmmm, Vee's got a funny scent. I'm thinking leather and soil.

Chris gave his fingers a deeper sniff (to the caterpillar's revulsion) before restarting the smooth movements on the dragon's feet. "It's a bit strong," he noted. "The smell's a little addicting, to be honest." A light chuckle followed.

A smirk took his lips hostage. "I wonder," he intoned, murmuring to himself. "I don't think I ever gave Sally a…" the blond's voice faded away, its strength dropping when the pain of losing his significant other re-entered his mind.

Wormmon did not hear his mumbling. Confused by the sudden paralysis that took over the man, the Digimon of Kindness tilted his bulbous head, antenna twitching. "You alright?"

The blond took a deep breath.

Another one followed.

Misery typified both.

"Uhhhh—

"Hey," Christopher muttered, turning his head slowly to Wormmon, who did not fail to notice the glint of intent shining in his goldenrod eyes. A foreshadowing to the words spoken within the next minute. "Would you mind," he verbalized, trying to formulate his sentence into a clear and benign request, "telling me more about the DSI's _military_ abilities?"

Wormmon chirped, falling into Christopher's trap. "Not at all!"

The digimon had only begun to speak when a shriek interrupted him, jolting the caterpillar and shocking Veemon out from his halcyon reverie.

"WORMMON!"

* * *

A scowling human, garbed in an attire Chris considered formal **and** flashy, an outfit befitting a person of high rank, stood at the door. It was not difficult to visualize foam bubbling over his lips.

Wormmon submitted a weak reply. "H, h-hi, Ken." A pathetic greeting, ineffective in dispelling the Digimon Tactician's fury.

Ken strutted to his partner, eyes shooting daggers. "Wormmon, why are you giving away sensitive intel?"

Wormmon rebutted. "B-but, Chris's just asking about the DSI…"

"You **DO NOT**," he censured, "give classified information so easily!" The man did not curb his anger, pointing a rigid index finger to Chris. "You know we can't trust him! We can't even depend on him for help; he's always working for his own—"

"Ken!" exclaimed the Digimon of Miracles. A yawn made him pause, but failed to deter him from defending his friend. "Don't talk about Chris like that! I can vouch for him! He's saved me many times and even helped defeat the Modifiers." He patted Chris's shoulder. "He's even worried about me!"

Ken Ichijouji ignored the dragon's defenses, walking to Christopher instead. His purple eyes glared into Chris's goldenrod pools, not even glancing at Veemon beside him, who was wide awake, ogling the Tactician. "Why are you so interested in the Digital Suppression Initiative? You're a third party to all this. Don't even stick your nose in our affairs when you've got nothing to do with them."

"Chris, a third party?" Veemon was incredulous. How could Ken doubt the blond? Was it because he wasn't there to see the way he fought beside him? Was it because of how badly Chris treated his partner after the interrogation? "I don't think so," the dragon disputed. "He's got issues with the DSI, too!"

Christopher refused all forms of help. "Stop, Vee," he nudged. "Please. You don't have to." Then he turned to the Tactician, locking eyes with him, unwavering. "You already know the DSI employed æther—energy weapons in the recent attack." Chris gestured at Wormmon. "I'm sure your lackey informed you just how dangerous they are."

Veemon pouted at the derisive label he slapped on Wormmon. He was _no_ lackey. He was a friend. Moreover, he was a role model. Someone whose approach to the human-digimon partnership was worth emulating. The Chosen felt the urge to interrupt Chris and tell him off, only to stop himself at the last moment, somehow falling back on a sense of tact he rarely exhibited.

"I promise you this," he asserted. "Those guns don't belong! They're using **my technology**, and if I let them be, I don't know how much things will change!" Chris whipped his hand across the room, hoping Ken understood his reference to the entire base. "They wiped out a base full of _monsters_ with, what, _fifteen_ men all armed with prototypes?

"Third party or not," Chris went on, "I don't care! I've spent a few days contemplating how those effing bastards got a hold of the tech, and I'm definite the DSI's got something I want—

The Chosen Child interrupted him. Voice cool and calm. "And what would that be?" Veemon recognized it as an attempt to fish for information, to exploit Christopher's rambling and lead him into revealing his own motives. Motives only Veemon was aware of but did not comprehend.

"None of your business." Chris had seen through Ichijouji.

Ken narrowed his eyes.

Veemon did not keep track of the mounting tension. His mental energies were focused instead on Christopher's pursuits. He swore he knew what Chris was after, that he _heard_ him say it, verbalizing with a desperation so strong it seemed like his life—his sanity—his salvation depended on it.

It was like looking at something—at the object through a window. A window massive and generous slabs of dirt and grime beclouded, rendering what would have been a clear, transparent portal for the viewer into an opaque, discolored wall.

Slowly, little by little, the Chosen swabbed the filth off this window, his memories producing an image of sharpening quality.

.

.

"_You see this?" With a resounding snap, Chris parted the frame of his sleek, silver handgun, revealing its chamber. A celadon glow caressed Chris's face, casting an ominous shadow on Colonel Reeves. The green radiance stunned Veemon, for he had expected a bullet when reality presented him with a luminous gemstone, set in an apparatus that—the dragon guessed—drew power from it. _

_Christopher's words defined the incandescent crystal for both Veemon and the Colonel. "This is an æther core." He shoved his gun into Reeves' face for his eyes to see. "Crystallized æther. It's what powers your guns. Just one can last you years." He popped the frame back in place, head darting towards the Digimon of Miracles._

_He nodded._

"_Toss me the __DITE__," the gesture communicated. No words had been spoken between the two._

_The block of metal expanded in the blond's hands, forming the sword that terrified humans and digimon alike. Chris fondled the ebon blade, creeping closer with his goldenrod eyes focused on the Colonel. "But you can only produce cores with an immense amount of æther particles of the same purity. A little less if greater._

"_**Your**__ cores can be produced with B-grade æther." He swung the sword towards the ground, ignorant of the wind it produced, the wind that flew across the soil, the wind that aroused the prickly feeling of intimidation. _

_Veemon felt the impulse to flee, the sense of danger, urging him to run, as far away as possible. His survival instincts did not care the terrifying weapon was not trained on him. Neither were they comforted by the knowledge its wielder would never hurt him. _

"_It'll take more time and quantity to do the same with C-grade particles."_

_Reeves hissed. "So what's your point?"_

_Christopher's pupils shrunk from pure rage. Without warning, he seized the soldier's collar and pulled him in, mouth opening in a thunderous, bloodcurdling scream. "__**WHERE-IS-THE-REALMSTONE!**__" Veemon stepped back, shivering from fright. He had never seen Christopher act like this! "WHERE IS IT?" the blond shrieked, emotions penetrating every word. _

_Desperation. _

_Grief. _

_Hope. _

_They reverberated within his articulation, pulsating endlessly. "I know you have it!" _

_Colonel Reeves gasped. Veemon's long, conical ears twitched at the sound of metal ripping through clothes, piercing soft, human flesh. The iron smell of bright, crimson blood saturated the air, further tainting Christopher Van Numen, whose scent of brine and saltwater already carried the claret stain. "You wouldn't have æther guns otherwise!"_

.

.

"AHA!" Veemon blurted, acting as soon as the memory and its contents left an imprint in his mind. How could he have forgotten it? He had been there. He saw a side of his friend, one he had never seen in the few hours they have been friends, one that overturned the image of someone who treated him with kindness, who at several times went out of his way to help him. "I remember!"

He turned towards Christopher, his muzzle assuming a bright and innocent smile. Veemon strongly believed all this quarreling would stop if the two of them would just work together, if the blond confided in the Child of Kindness his dilemma. "You said it when you were interrogating that Colonel guy, didn't you?"

Veemon did not see the goldenrod eyes bulge in complete astonishment.

"You called it the Real—oof!"

Chris elbowed the blue dragon. "Vee!" he hissed, the sound forcing his eyes open, forcing him to see the man he wanted to help shaking his head censoriously. Then he turned to Ken Ichijouji, locking eyes with him once more. "Sorry," he said. He did not even blink. "But I refuse to tell you."

Ken glowered. "Why?"

"You're a third party to **MY** problems." A wry retort. A hurt and confused Veemon caught Chris' grin. "So don't stick your nose in _my_ affairs either."

Whenever a digimon subordinate to the Digimon Tactician spoke so brazenly to him, using a tone that conveyed no respect whatsoever, those who served—fought—under his command grew accustomed to a harsh, violent punishment. Veemon had seen this enough times to know Ken, as the Tactician, would never let anyone talk to him like garbage and get away with it.

He inched away from Christopher, anticipating a similar reaction from the blond's callous dismissal.

To his surprise, the Child of Kindness merely chuckled. "I'll think about it." Perhaps Ken was amused by the way Chris made him eat his own words?

Ken turned around and sauntered to the door. Before he left, he murmured, "C'mon, Wormmon, let's go. We have plenty of work ahead."

"Okay, Ken!" Wormmon's response was so casual it undermined whatever face he tried to save with his political retreat. The thought made Veemon giggle.

The green caterpillar leapt from the bed. "Bye, Veemon!" he bid farewell, his numerous legs carrying him to the door. "Oh." He looked back, waving one of his appendages back at them. Veemon's hand flailed similarly, at least until he heard a bubbly "You, too, Chris!"

Veemon blinked. _That's unexpected._ Crimson eyes went to the blond man sitting beside its owner. Chris was petrified, apparently stunned by the last minute address. His tail wiggled. _He didn't expect that e__i__ther. _Another titter escaped his muzzle.

A groan—a vexed one—succeeded the dragon's lighthearted chuckle. "I **cannot** believe you actually heard me."

Veemon did not say anything, for his confusion and hurt at the way Chris silenced him by force resurfaced. He could feel the dull pain coming back to the arm his elbow struck.

Christopher raised his hand and gave the spot a tender rub. Veemon winced; it was still sore. "Damn, Vee. Does it still hurt?" The dragon nodded.

"I'm sorry," Chris apologized, sighing. "I needed you to shut up."

Veemon whined. "But why? That, that… Realmstone, thing… it might be better if Ken helped you." He ogled Chris, staring up at his face. "You can trust Ken," opined the Chosen. "It's not like he'll do something bad—he isn't the Kaiser." No need to disclose Ken acted _like_ the Kaiser to enforce discipline among the ranks.

"I know he won't," muttered Chris. "But," he groaned, "It's too complicated."

Veemon tilted his head, ears still limp. "Whaddya mean?"

Christopher brought his arm around Veemon's shoulder and gently nudged him closer. The gesture gave the dragon an impression he wanted to clarify things, to explain why he got hit for trying to help. "The Realmstone is an object—a divine artifact so powerful one can perform thousands of miracles with it."

The blond _bent over_, leaning forward so they were eye-to-eye. Within his goldenrod orbs gleamed solemnity, bestowing a quality that upset, that disturbed, the Digimon of Miracles. Veemon coughed out of anxiety. "If Ken knew," spoke the man without recoiling. His countenance wore a deadpan expression. "What it was—what it can do—he will **stop at nothing** to extract its power."

"B-but Chris," he argued. "There's nothing wrong with making miracles. We need it even more than now, you know…"

"I **KNOW **that!" He pinched Veemon's cheeks. Goldenrod peered into scarlet. "Try to understand me, _please_. You guys mustn't use the Realmstone—the Modifiers aren't even supposed to have æther technology, and look what's happened!"

"Æther?"

"Their guns."

"I, I-I, I don't—what—what're you trying to say, Chris?"

"That the Realmstone doesn't belong here. Æther tech doesn't belong here." His eyebrows fell, downcast. Christopher broke eye contact, casting his gaze on Veemon's shoulder. On the crumpled blanket behind him. On the mattress they sat on. "That, **I**, don't belong here."

"Eh? Can you, can you explain that?"

Christopher ogled the dragon, his mind assessing him in ways he could not even imagine. Veemon perceived an inner conflict inside the blond. He discerned Chris' hesitation. He was on the verge of a confession, on disclosing something he would've preferred hidden.

Whatever his secret was, Veemon conjectured it was related to his unnatural abilities, connected to his nescience—his lack of knowledge—of the Digital World, of digimon, of the Earth as it was in ten years beyond the Digital Revelation. Veemon didn't know whether he should feel privileged to be the only one the blond opened up to, when he had all but scorned and disparaged everyone else.

"The truth is, Vee," Chris professed. "I'm from another universe."

Had Veemon been human—no, had he been a digimon who knew nothing about the "Real World", who was so backward he has never heard of it, this concession would have clarified everything. It would explain Christopher's exogenous nature and his bizarre equipment.

But because Veemon was not human, because he was a digimon whose role in this dangerous game called life was centered in the politics of two different planes of existence, because he was aware of the "Real World", the "Digital World", and their duality, he did not take Chris seriously.

"Whaaaaaaaaat?" He rolled his eyes, downplaying the confession. "That's it?" He waved his hand, flippant. "Don't be silly. You _are_ from another universe. You're from the Real World!"

In response, Christopher slapped his own face. His exasperation was obvious. "Ugh, never mind," he moaned, falling back on the bed, lying down on the pillow with his legs dangling off the edge—Chris was a foot and a half too long for it. (Veemon had grown up to a full three feet ten years after meeting Daisuke; obviously, the bed was made for him.)

This confused the blue dragon. Why did the man lie down? Why did Chris give up as if he didn't understand? _The Real World __**is**__ another universe_, his mind insisted. _That's what you meant, right?_

A little voice of doubt, however, pushed Veemon in the right direction. "What if you're wrong?" It told him. What if Christopher was referring to an _entirely_ _separate_ universe? What if he came from _beyond_ the Real and Digital worlds?

Veemon yielded a nervous chuckle. _No way_, he thought. _That's just impossible._

The Chosen glanced at the human who nonchalantly took over _his_ bed. _There's no way he'd be from_—his thoughts tapered off once he recalled the sheer, remarkable difference that distinguished the blond from all the humans Veemon has ever observed, met, and befriended.

A memory of the First Contact attacked Veemon. It summoned a ghost, reviving the crushing feeling on his neck, so tight he could not breathe. His teeth—his mouth—still remembered the contours of Christopher's hand, recalling all too easily the fact his canines barely penetrated the bare skin despite the taste of human blood on his tongue.

The ebon blade filled his mind next, forcing him to relive the first time he held it, the first time he brandished the sword at another. His hands could not forget the DITE was as weightless as the air, yet blessed with the strength to overwhelm Leomon's Beast Sword, to cut through flesh, concrete, and steel like they were sheets of paper.

_Æther_, he repeated silently, ruminating on their destructive nature, on how they deleted digimon by touch, leaving behind a cruel emptiness in its wake, its victims losing their core data on death. _The Realmstone._

These were things—concepts—he never encountered in his life.

The only stones he knew of were the Destiny Stones: artifacts separating the two worlds, objects that were now hidden, under the protection of the Harmonious Ones. Not once had Veemon come across the divine item Chris called the Realmstone. Nor did he ever hear of something with a power to "create miracles".

The Digimental of Miracles was the closest thing he could think of, but for some reason—for something he could not explain, let alone imagine, his intuition pestered him into thinking the Realmstone was _beyond _the Golden Digimental.

Then there was that "I don't belong here" assertion.

Veemon propounded his thoughts in the only way he knew how. "Chris, you're from _another _Real World, aren't you?"

Christopher's hands fell from his face. He looked at the dragon. "Finally figured it out?"

One nod was all he needed.

"My god, you're **so** slow!" he laughed.

Veemon brought his fist down on Chris's solar plexus, slamming it down as hard as he could. "Oh, shut, up!"

"Doesn't hurt a bit!" Chris chortled.

_That's disappointing_, noted Veemon. He hoped he would at least feel _something_. To console himself, the blue dragon stuck his tongue out in annoyance.

"Sooooo, Vee, what're you thinking about now?"

"Eh?"

"This is the first time I _voluntarily_ told someone I'm from another universe, and you **don't** have any questions for me?" He scratched his head, apparently puzzled. "Hmm, people normally run me over with a deluge of—

"I have _plenty _of 'em!" Veemon rejoined. Many of these questions revolved around what he "learned" in animé and other useless things he picked up from Daisuke a long, long time ago.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really?" Chris sat up, eyeing the digimon. "And you're not shooting them because…?"

"Because I don't know where to start," he sheepishly replied, blushing from embarrassment. "Besides, there's just _one_ thing I don't understand."

"What?"

"…**you**."

The answer left Christopher genuinely startled. "Me?" he asked, incredulous.

Truth be told, there were many things about Chris that perplexed the dragon, and it boiled down not to his abilities, not to his technology and combat experience, but to his motives. To his ideals.

Why, for example, would Chris refuse to help Veemon—to help Ken, the Digital Monsters, and everyone else back in the Real World? If the Realmstone was so powerful, surely he could reward them all with it? The scenario would remain unchanged even in its absence; Chris could simply lend his unnatural human abilities and otherworldly technology in not only tipping the scales in favor of the Chosen Children but also uprooting the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Many times the blond had said he wasn't supposed to be helping them the way the Modifiers weren't supposed to possess æther technology. _So why save me? _Veemon wondered. _Why were you fighting the Modifiers with me?_ If Christopher hadn't been so sidetracked keeping Veemon alive, the Midnight Assault would have ended differently.

Perhaps the battle wouldn't have happened in the first place had the blue dragon died at the Spire of Courage. Veemon shuddered at the thought.

Of all the queries Veemon could have asked Christopher Van Numen in that moment, when he had the blond's full attention, when he had his willingness to answer anything that came out of his muzzle, he opted for the one that bothered—prodded his curiosity the most. "Why do you want it?"

"'It'…?"

"That Realm, stone… thingy. Why do you want it?"

Christopher defaulted on instinct. "That's none of your—!" The dismissal eroded quickly into coughing.

"Stupid reflexes," the Chosen heard him mutter. He pounded his chest, as if scolding himself.

Veemon couldn't resist giggling. "Well?"

He cleared his throat. "I… I need it."

"Why?"

"To alter my fate."

The blue dragon examined him. When he said those four words, Chris bowed, but not in the same way he bent over earlier, intending to establish eye contact. Dejection cast its shadow on his goldenrod eyes. Gloom overtook his countenance, if that wasn't already evident in the frown his bewildered expression was becoming.

Veemon sensed the melancholy stirring within Chris' chest. A sadness he struggled to repress, to expunge with a mental burial. "What **is** your fate?"

He did not answer.

Veemon refused to let this go, not so easily; he had touched on a burden Christopher carried on his shoulders. A burden he bore alone. This was no longer about satisfying his undying curiosity of Chris and the many worlds he has visited. This was no longer about proving his idealism of human friendship still lived.

This was about helping a friend—reducing the weight forcing his spirits down. "Can't you tell me?" he pleaded.

"No." Eyes wet, Chris appeared close to breaking down. "'cause I don't even know."

"Chris—

"**SHUT UP, VEEMON!**" Christopher's outburst was so loud Veemon leapt from the bed, sensing the blind fury emanated by every syllable. It scared the digimon, conjuring the illusory sensation of pain wrapping around his neck, constricting his airway.

Chris must have seen this. He wouldn't have slapped a hand over his mouth, otherwise. Neither would he have turned away in shame. "I, I-I—I'm sor—I shouldn't have—Arrrrgh!" Hands clutched his hair, pulling it in exasperation.

"Are you," The Chosen approached him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he heaved. "But please, don't—don't ask me again. Not about that."

This was the second time he saw this volatile side. He didn't know why Chris acted so capriciously, but Veemon supposed his instability had something to do with what happened _before_ he came to the Digital World. _Somehow that Sally girl's related to this, _noted the Chosen, recalling that scene in the clinic.

Concerned for his well-being, Veemon wanted to help, in any way he could, even if the impact was negligible. Daisuke would certainly do the same thing, he thought.

Getting Christopher's mind off whatever bothered him was the first step. _Maybe helping out with the rebuilding efforts will do the trick? _It was a plausible option. The manual labor would be enough to distract him (or so he hoped), and the additional manpower would contribute significantly to the restoration's progress. A win-win situation!

Besides, Veemon was already bored with the idea of lying—sitting down—on a bed, in a tiny, depressing room. As he was already standing, the dragon took the opportunity to move his feet, to stretch his body, and test his joints, rotating his legs and arms. A few push-ups and squats were performed.

_Everything's in proper order, then._ Veemon advanced towards the blond, who had once again lain down on the bed. "Chris, let's just forget about this and do something else." He held the human's hand. "They're rebuilding the satellite base. Let's help out. I'm getting booooored here, anyway."

"Pass." He was reluctant, indisposed to any suggestion. "I'll just stay—

"Nooooooooooooo!" Veemon tugged his arm, his pull accruing strength. "NOOO! You're, coming, with, me!"

More excuses erupted from Chris, but not once did he shout or yell, no matter how many times he yanked him off the bed. After enough attempts and shows of undying persistence, he eventually gave in. "Fine," he conceded. "Fine, I'll go with you."

"Yeeeey!" the blue dragon cheered. He bolted out the door, dragging Chris behind him.

On their way out the Command Center, the two boys passed a Lalamon in the hallway.

"That's weird," said the Lalamon, her whispers well beyond the Chosen's earshot. "We expected Lord Veemon's full recovery by the weekend."

* * *

"M&A just **HAD** to pick this week!"

Lucille had no problems publicly denouncing the morons who chose _this particular week_ to disable the Digital Dive System for its quarterly maintenance. Aldo watched her kick the dust off the ground, terribly bored and frustrated.

The three of them—Lucy, Tina, and Aldo himself—arrived at the forward base in the morning, merely hours after the failure that was the Midnight Assault. They descended the Spire of Courage after taking shelter in, ironically, the cave where Veemon had hidden himself after absconding the battlefield by recklessness alone.

Though they waited for another hour at the cave, no one arrived after them, leading the three Modifiers to assume there were no other survivors.

On the trek back, Tina and Aldo recounted their battle, their experience of a major operation, albeit one that had gone on an unconventional path. Kikuchi found it necessary, as they needed tom channel their frustrations and their grief. The mission was an egregious failure. The DSI had lost far more than talent; it had lost prototypes. Technology that could've secured victory for humankind by year's end.

Christopher was responsible for this. Because of him, the Digimon of Miracles escaped the Modifiers, tarnishing the stainless record they had to date—it was certain the Chairman, Yamaki's lone superior, would be disappointed in their inability to accomplish the only thing he requested from the Modifiers' first digital dive.

Because of him, what would have been an overwhelming triumph of technology morphed into bitter defeat.

Aldo Kikuchi believed—_knew_—at one point or another, the blond would eventually side with the Digital Monsters. With the Digidestined. With the Chosen Children. Chris' statements of detachment mattered not to the scout, for he had already shown signs of conversion, in lieu of his observed attachment to Veemon, which would do nothing but entrench itself further as time elapsed.

Lucille Diaz—the DSI—must grasp the man's style of fighting. They needed a theoretical index for future encounters with Christopher, lest the organization risk dying in an ambush by him, by a human that was, as contradictory and asinine as it would sound, _not _human.

"He's extremely aggressive," the scout described. "He isn't afraid to exploit openings—he'll even use the environment against you."

From the short time Tina and Aldo engaged the blond in combat they perceived the influence martial arts had on Christopher's terrifying skill in close quarters. His movements never went to waste, fluid and in tandem not only with swordplay, but also with sharpshooting. If there was someone who could lay waste to an entire army of soldiers with the laughable "Gun Fu", it could only be him.

Veemon, famed for being the Twelve's most talented fighter in close combat, would never hold his own against Christopher, even if his smaller size gave him additional speed and space. The way the man fought, exuded the aura of experience. "Like he's been fighting all his life," Tina supplemented. "Faced opponents far, far stronger than us."

Aldo never addressed the point he saw in that statement: just what could be _possibly_ worse than the elite soldiers under the Vice-Chair's command?

By the time they entered the forward base, Lucille Diaz was convinced Christopher was, if left unchecked, the greatest threat to the Digital Suppression Initiative. It was a shame; he could have been humanity's revered champion had he somehow been wooed over.

Tina Fujieda resigned to her quarters as soon as they arrived; both Aldo and Lucy knew she intended to draft a resignation letter addressed to Vice-Chairman Yamaki. Meanwhile, the two of them strode together, heading for the forward base's crossover site.

A civilian lacking the in-depth knowledge of M&A's Digital Dive logistics would have expected the crossover site to house a portal—a mechanical, steel frame that would've formed the foundation of a Digital Gate large enough for men and vehicles to cross worlds, embedded with intricate machinery and programs enabling instantaneous conversion from biological to digital and back.

Such an expectation would be nothing except intuitive, yet it couldn't have been more incorrect. The crossover site was **literally** empty space. A wide, flat expanse of land that can certainly accommodate the traffic of soldiers and siege weapons at once. Its tranquility was broken by a lone computer terminal spoiled by operators and technicians, made portable by the ease of assembly, made powerful by next-gen processors designed and manufactured by the best researchers in the field—many of them pirated from Apple, Google, and other conglomerates of their ilk.

Extreme levels of computing power were necessary; the Digital Dive System was _the_ regulator of all communication and transfers between the two worlds. Hubs present in New York, Japan, and London ensured 24-hour availability.

It wasn't surprising for those employed by the DSI to form a belief—a bias the DDS was online _in perpetuity_, ad infinitum. Perish the thought of the fabled Digital Dive System shut down! Without it, cyberterrorists would have long plunged hundreds, no, thousands of lives in financial jeopardy with identical theft and service denials.

Worse, the Chosen Children would possess the ability to coordinate strikes within the Digital World and without. SCAI's could invade the Real World at any point in time, commanded by the Digimon Tactician or any of his still-surviving brethren among the Twelve.

Naturally, Lucille and Aldo were taken aback when the geeks worshiping the portable terminal informed them the DDS was offline. "So all communications and transfers are out of the question," one rebuffed them kindly. He bowed, feigning a display of respect for those who ranked far higher. "Sorry, but if you have any concerns, you'll just have to direct them to—

"I thought the DDS was on, all day, all year!" exclaimed Aldo, distressed, if not disillusioned.

"M&A's currently doing maintenance work on all major DDS hubs."

"Don't give me that effing crap!" Lucy motioned at the active screens on the terminal, her annoyance bleeding into the way she whipped her arm to the supercomputer. "That box doesn't say it's down!"

The technician adjusted his thick glasses. "You two don't seem to understand. It's the DDS's _basic programming_ that's active all year-round, **not** its ancillary functions."

Lucille cocked an eyebrow. "Basic programming?"

"Signal filtering and blocking," retorted the technician. "Network protection protocols, the works." His bored voice indicated his response was something he had been saying multiple times throughout his military career. "It covers malicious attacks regardless of origin. Real World, Digital World, doesn't matter where hackers attack from. The DDS will catch them."

"So how long are we going to wait here? We need to cross over ASAP."

"One week at least," the technician replied.

Lucy choked. "ONE **WEEK**? We got urgent information here!"

"I _did_ suggest you contact General Satsuma. Our base-to-base comm. networks are still online."

"Forget the General," ranted the Modifier. "We're under the Vice-Chairman's command."

The technician was marveled. His eyes blinked as soon as Yamaki's position was disclosed. "You two are those… 'Modifier' people, right? Hmm, if that's the case…"

He checked the terminal.

Lucille had a triumphant smirk on her face. Aldo perceived the statement behind the expression. "Name dropping wins all."

This proud smug twisted into the ugliest frown Kikuchi has ever seen on a woman the second the technician looked back at her and shrugged. "You still got to wait, sorry."

Her jaw was dropping to the ground, prompting Aldo to run an arm around her shoulder and drag her—with difficulty!—away from the scene before her curses and insults devolved to violence.

Three days have passed since then. Aldo, reviewing the memory, thought it diligent to report it to one of the Generals presiding in the Digital World. He couldn't recall any direct order to report strictly to the Vice-Chair alone. "Lucy," he said, interrupting her lonesome grumbling. "I think it's better if we just report to General Satsuma. He can forward it to Yamaki when DDS is online again."

She glared at the Black. "Do you know **why** we can't reveal our findings to them?"

"No." Aldo shook his head. "Neither have I heard of any silencing order from the—"

"Being fully experimental, the Modification Project is known **only** to those close to R&D. As far as M&A is concerned, the 'Modifiers' is a squad meant for special ops, and nothing else. We're reporting directly to the DSI bigwigs because they're too careful. We can't even talk about our findings over video! We've **got** to go there _personally._"

"P-personally?"

"Can't afford letting the Digital Monsters or the Digidestined intercept the conversation, I was told. No matter how small the probabilities are." She looked at Aldo intently. "Trust me, Kikuchi, you shouldn't underestimate that gang of terrorists—the Chosen Children—when they're effing determined to win."

"I, I see…"

* * *

Ken Ichijouji took the five digivices with him when he returned to the Fortress, aiming to convene with Iori, Joe, and Koushirou. Including the Tactician, only four of the Twelve absconded to the Digital World when the war broke out two years ago.

Everyone else, including Daisuke, was unaccounted for. All efforts to establish some form of communication with the remnants of the Twelve left behind were thwarted time and time again by Akihiro Kurata's Digital Dive System, which evolved on a daily basis, faster than anything Koushirou could whip up. However, immediate, large-scale invasions by the DSI forced Ken Ichijoujo, who assumed the mantle of leadership, to shift priorities from uniting the Digital Monsters and the Digidestined to defending the Digital World from the xenophobic invaders.

"I'll be back in a few days," muttered the Tactician as he disappeared into the War Room's digiport. "Take care."

Commandramon was left to watch over the Satellite Base, until Ken's return. Musyamon departed for the Aztec Temple, accompanied by a Revolmon. It was an unlikely pair: a Virus and a Vaccine type traveling as comrades. Yet that was the beauty of the war, and the only one at that. Faced with an emerging threat, sooner or later digimon of various sides and dispositions come together to fight for survival, placing collective duties above personal gain.

Being the supervisor of the satellite base's rehabilitation, Commandramon traveled from the steel gates to the concrete perimeter's southwestern corner. Though the wall was undergoing a recondition, the two gaping breaks caused by the Midnight Assault still had to be fixed. Many contributed to these sections' repair, working in shifts, mixing cement, or otherwise assisting in the construction of the wall's steel foundations.

To his surprise, Commandramon met Veemon working with the digimon, stirring powdered cement and water, pouring out the mixture, and smoothing it. The Chosen was well, strong enough to perform manual labor. "Lord Veemon!" called the military dinosaur. "What're you doing here?"

"You need all the help you can get, right?" he replied. "So here I am!" The Chosen smirked.

"When did you wake up?"

Veemon, holding up a cement smoother, ran it across the fresh cement, scampering from one area to another. "This morning," he muttered.

Commandramon gasped. "You're supposed to be in bed! We can't have you getting sick—"

"I feel great," he cut in. "Wait, make that _awesome_." He patted the cement, making sure it stuck. The pile was slowly getting larger. It stood at seven feet above the forest floor: a long way to go before it was level with the rest of the perimeter. "It's boring back there. Can't stand it."

A familiar voice boomed behind Commandramon. "Hey, Vee, where do I put this?"

He turned around. Commandramon's jaw dropped when he saw Christopher Van Numen standing behind him. In his arms were several sacks of dried cement. His face and posture were devoid of exhaustion. Several digimon nearby were as stupefied as the military dinosaur, their gaping mouths mirroring Commandramon's. _This… this freak's helping us out? I must be dreaming._

Commandramon pinched himself twice. That failed to dispel the image of Chris setting down the sacks near the mixer. Veemon tossed a small smoother to him. "Why don't you do the other side, Chris?"

"'Kay," he replied in an impassive tone, before _leaping_ to the other side. He hurled the smoother back into the compound. It landed beside Commandramon. "And I didn't need that." The military dinosaur climbed along the nearby scaffolding. He couldn't believe what he saw. Christopher had drawn the black sword, and was **using it** as a smoother. The digimon next to him had taken a step back, not knowing whether they should assist or let the blond do his job.

"H-hey, Lord Veemon," Commandramon shuffled close to the Chosen. He kept his voice low. "Why—how did—could you—I mean, he's—that guy's working here?"

"Eh?" The dragon turned to him. A second passed. "Ah! You mean Chris?" The dinosaur nodded. "Oh, I forced him to," Veemon went on nonchalantly.

"F-F-F-F, FORCED?" repeated Commandramon, stunned. _HIM? _He stared back at the blond: a very reluctant expression was stamped on his face, even as he did what Veemon asked him to. _What the hell… _

"Wasn't too difficult persuading him," glossed Veemon. No words could express the sheer amazement at how the blue dragon managed to drag Christopher here. _And for manual labor!_

.

.

This trend continued for the next three days. Veemon, despite orders to rest and avoid effort for the sake of his body, insisted on lending a hand in the rehabilitation. To the relentless surprise of the digimon, Christopher accompanied him wherever he went.

Their assistance significantly advanced the rebuilding efforts. As the hours passed, the work had the effect of transforming Chris' sulking, reluctant countenance into a more approachable expression. Something more benign. Less hostile.

By the third day's end, he and Veemon spent their after-hours in the Mess Hall, engaging in small talk with the many digimon they worked with. Commandramon was quick to notice Christopher's solitary behavior. He mostly kept to himself, but was observed to be more sociable whenever Veemon was close. Happier, perhaps.

At one point, the entire group was excited over the subject of close quarters combat, and someone just _had_ to mention the "weird and funny moves" humans used on each other.

"I think they're called kung fu," recalled JungleMojyamon, a sasquatch-like digimon. "Yeah, that's what they called it."

Leaping, Veemon piped, "Hey! Me and Daisuke used to watch movies like that on TV!" He clambered a table and swung his fists, letting chaos control them. "They're always going 'Hu!' 'Heeyawwwww…'"—he kicked the air—"'WAPAM!'"

The dragon predictably lost his balance. "Whoa—whoa—whoooaaaaa!" He fell to the floor, while everyone roared in amusement. Chris did not laugh with the rest of the crowd, but the military dinosaur discerned a cheerful grin on him, even as he approached Veemon and helped him up.

Needless to say, the Chosen still had it in him to laugh the pain away.

Commandramon downed a bottle of beer as he watched the scene. He felt so happy he smiled. Things were slowly returning to normal, when four nights ago the satellite base was a grisly collection of corpses and scattered data. Christopher was becoming more comfortable with Veemon, and moreover, exhibited signs of a psychological disposition not unlike those ordinary humans possessed.

Still, something kept nagging Commandramon: was this "normality" truly normal?

Despite the hilarity and jovial feelings pervading the scene unfolding before his gaze, Commandramon's orange eyes glistened with a frightening clarity over the portentous miasma hanging over them all.

The Digital Suppression Initiative still maintained the status quo Veemon abhorred.

Christopher's background was still enshrouded in mystery. His motives, even more so.

The war was undergoing rapid change. First with the Modifiers and their æther guns, and now with Chris intending to charge the Real World and invade the DSI's HQ.

All the happiness and cheer the joyous scene would have infected him with were expunged by these reflections. These revelations. _Darkness before the dawn_, mused the military dinosaur. That's what this normality was.

Something terrible was approaching. The Digital Monsters—the Twelve were in over their head on in this one, and he was afraid, deathly afraid, their heroes wouldn't be prepared for the catastrophes when they came.

Whenever his vision peered at the blond, who was surely attached to the blue dragon at this point, his head ached at the sight of him, like there was _something_ ominous, something _exogenous_ about Christopher. Like he didn't belong.

Like extending his stay imperiled everything.

* * *

Veemon relaxed his grip on a stick as long as himself. "Since you're going to the Real World," he spoke, his voice docile and compliant. Adopting a tone anyone could tell he was looking for a favor. "Can I come with you?"

Christopher deadpanned. "No." He brought down a stick of his own on the blue dragon. His attack was evaded with a skip back, leaving a brief opening the digimon exploited, retaliating with a quick swipe to the legs.

Only through the blond's insane reflexes did he move _and_ intercept the rod. He pinned it to the floor. Chris could have gone on for the win but slowed himself down, waiting to see what Veemon would do in the split-second before his finishing blow struck.

"Creative," murmured the blond, watching the Digimon of Kindness use a cartwheel to escape the attack and deliver a solid kick to his solar plexus.

Unfortunately for Veemon, his foot landed right into Christopher's hand. "But you're too slow."

Christopher released the dragon and kicked his stick back to its wielder before panning his eyes to gaze at the creatures surrounding them, all armed with similar weapons. _Why did I agree to this last night?_ He regretted, even as he pondered how Veemon managed to persuade Chris to teach him and "a few friends" of his how to wield a sword come morning.

* * *

"Awwwwwwwwwwwwww!" Like a sheep, like a toddler, the Digimon of Miracles bleated. "Pleeeeaaaasssee!"

"I said _no_!" Chris' denial was firm. He directed his unflinching gaze at the dragon. "You're better off staying here, Vee!" His body glided to the right, eluding an attack aimed for his back. Veemon would've wondered how he was sensing these attacks if he hadn't been too busy trying to gain his blond friend's permission. "It's too dangerous for you."

With that, his arm reached out and seized his third opponent for the day. "And you're dead," Chris' murmur was barely audible. "Send the next one up!"

Veemon refused to give up. "But Daisuke's out there!" Aggression took control of him, compelling him to skip the line of Chris' challengers and make another strike with the stick. "I need to find him!"

One slash was made, and he missed. Veemon did not let this deter his arguments. "I'll follow you to hell if I got to!" Such was his determination to get Chris' consent, to arrive at a mutual agreement where Veemon would accompany Christopher's entry into the Real World. After all, Daisuke was somewhere out there. _I'll never see him again if I just stay here!_

Veemon kicked himself mentally the moment this conversation had begun. He thought it'd be easier to gain Chris' approval after their drinking party last night, after three days of manual labor. Chris may not have gotten himself drunk like the other digimon, but as far as Veemon could remember the blond had become slightly approachable and less guarded as their efforts and time spent with each other progressed, his emotions settling down thanks to the distraction called work.

_Why'd he have to be __**this**__ stubborn?_ His mind screamed in ire. Christopher refused to let Veemon accompany him, one excuse after another rolling off his tongue. "It's too dangerous," he said. "You're in better hands here," he said. "I can't always watch your back."

Those three—exact words or a variant of it—were pulled out every time he begged, every time he asked. How could the Real World be too dangerous? How could Veemon be "in better hands" in the Digital World when Christopher had proven himself far more capable than anyone _in_ the Digital World time and time again?

Wasn't Chris the one who guarded him while he slept on his shoulders and drooled on his head? Wasn't he the one who shielded him so many times from the Modifiers, averting what could have been numerous opportunities for death to claim him? Didn't Chris already show some desire to _at least_ stay with him?

_I'll be safe out there thanks to __**you**__, stupid!_

Nonetheless, none of his counters worked. Christopher was so inflexible, it was not irritating—it was **infuriating**! The dragon eventually snapped and threw the stick at the blond out of pure annoyance. "What'll make you let me tag along?"

Christopher Van Numen let an exasperated expression clothe his countenance, one Veemon can easily see from where he was, watching the blond stoop, pick up his weapon, and toss it back at the blue dragon—the stick landed at his feet, for the recipient of this delivery had been ogling the finger raised by his adversary for the morning

"**One**, **hit**," Chris tested. "Land just one hit on me and I'll start _thinking_ about it."

Veemon noticed the other digimon stepping back. They had long realized how personal this was to the Chosen, giving him a wide berth for his next move. He also guessed they were curious if the strongest digimon of the famous Twelve was capable of striking the blond human-not-human in his Child form.

Not that it'd make a difference as Fladramon or ExVeemon. _It's not like I can evolve in the first place._

Veemon repressed his doubts. "That makes things **easier**!" he clamored, sprinting to his opponent. "One hit, coming right up!"

The blue dragon initiated by digging his three toes into the soil and kicking the earth straight to Chris, making use of the natural environment as he was wont to do in real combat. The reaction was predictable: the bracer was raised to block the projectile, limiting its wearer's visibility enough to give Veemon the confidence attacking with his stick at this very moment would bring victory.

Only to find out he made a mistake: the Realm Scanner blocked the stick mid-swing. Chris rotated his arm to redirect the striking portion away.

Had this been a plain, regular spar, the Digimon of Miracles would subsequently back off, preparing another approach to offense. But this was no regular spar. Christopher Van Numen had formalized the conditions of entering the Real World _with_ him, under _his_ protection. Veemon had to be a fool to restrain himself the way he would when nothing was at stake.

In addition, he was fighting _Christopher_. Experience throbbed in every movement he made. Nothing was wasted—an efficient, relentless fighting style intended to obliterate the opponent at once. The difference between him and Leomon was vast. Between him and Daisuke, limitless!

If Veemon ever hoped to strike Chris even once, he had to fight seriously. He had to fight as if his life was at stake. As if Daisuke's life was in danger. As if the fate of the Digital World rested in every attack he threw at his opponent.

That said, Veemon exploited the sideward momentum. He leapt and stretched his leg, rolling in mid-air. It would've been a solid hit on the side of the man's neck. A DSI soldier would have received this attack in full force, the power behind the dragon's kick enough to snap the neck and kill the man.

But Christopher was no DSI soldier. He was no ordinary human. Reflexes guided the blond's sidestep, but Veemon did not let him recover. He landed on his feet facing away from Christopher, yet he rebounded with a swift backflip, aspiring to land on the man's shoulders and lunge forward, planting his face on the ground.

What happened next was unbelievable. The first half of Veemon's attack succeeded. Once the blond's head was secured between his legs, he twisted his waist as planned and shoved his opponent forward, gyrating to add more pressure to the neck. But Chris decided to discard his stick. His fall was stopped by _his arms alone_, the move ceasing when the blond's face was an inch off the ground.

Without warning, Chris pushed down on his arms and went airborne, flipping over. It was an attempt to pin Veemon down with his body.

The dragon was dazed. "Ubuuuhhh…"

It was successful.

Christopher rose. He spanked the dust off his shirt. "For the record, your aim was off. I had to bend over so you'd land on my head." Veemon blushed at this, but the man did not notice, having extended a helping hand to the dragon, asking a question that incensed him. "Are you done?"

Veemon slapped the hand away. "You wish!"

What humiliated the Digimon of Miracles wasn't just the skill and experience backing Christopher's reactions. It was also the fact he suppressed his herculean strength as well as the belligerent urge to dominate, for he couldn't attack Veemon with everything he had without inflicting irreversible and even fatal damage. This was evident in his passive, defensive stances, though it did nothing to reduce his dexterity and alacrity.

The minutes went on.

Veemon pushed himself to attack faster, to react faster, to strike without thinking, letting the battle guide his every move. Signs of fatigue were ignored. He disregarded the mounting dizziness, forcing his body to keep on moving when it sought rest.

Christopher insisted Veemon to surrender, his concern growing as the digimon fought without stopping. He rejected all of it. He wanted—he **needed** to go to the Real world! Veemon had finally accepted he was on his own now and the first thing he wanted was a reunion with Daisuke Motomiya.

No doubt the proactive search violated his promise with his human half, but Veemon could not depend on Daisuke's word any longer. He had to stand on his own two feet. No one else's. If he wanted to see Daisuke again, if he wanted the old days back, he had to fight for it himself, even if no one helped.

Commandramon's voice entered his ears, calling a name that wasn't his own, articulating words he ignored. Veemon did not care; he put everything into his final attempt. He sprinted forward, taking a great leap of faith. He bowed his head. "VEE HEADBUTT!"

.

.

The impossible occurred.

Veemon, the blue dragon, the Chosen, the Digimon of Miracles, struck Christopher's belly with his last, desperate attack.

Though Chris was unhurt, the man could never deny going down with all the wind knocked out of his lungs. Neither could he reject Veemon's intent to join him.

Applause rained down from the spectators, their cheers erupting from all sides. His victory felt surreal. _I, I did it?_

It took only a second for Veemon to realize this triumph wasn't an illusion, but a result of hard work and persistence. "YEESSSSSS!" He screamed. He had landed a hit on Chris at last. "I DID IT!" An exultant grin flashed on his muzzle.

"Now," Veemon wiped sweat off his face, gloating at the loser of this one-on-one fight. "You'll _have_ to let me go with you."

These words died in his throat before they became audible.

Christopher was not listening to him. He hadn't been paying attention to the victory at all. Completely apathetic, still sprawled on the ground with goldenrod eyes staring up at the military dinosaur weaving through the crowd of digimon towards them—towards _him_.

"The Tactician has returned," Veemon overheard him, watching Commandramon stop inches before his opponent, towering above him as if _he_ had been the one to floor him. "He wants to see you as soon as possible."

"Where is he?"

"Hey!" Veemon kicked Christopher's leg, vying for the man's attention. He was **not** going to be ignored like this. "Heeeeyyy!"

Neither blessed the Chosen with attention. "In the War Room," supplied the military dinosaur, his orange eyes darting to Veemon for one moment and back, contempt flashing in those pools.

Chris nodded. "Let's go." He stood, ambling to the Command Center. It was fortunate they were close; he, Veemon, and other interested digimon had been dueling in the space behind it, to the east.

"Christopher!" nagged the blue dragon, catching up to him, reaching for his arm. "Don't forget our deal! I'm going with you to the Real World!"

An emotionless glare responded to his excitement. Cold goldenrod eyes drained Veemon's feeling of triumph until it was nothing. "That didn't count. He distracted me," Chris blamed Commandramon.

Color left Veemon's face. _D-d-distracted? _He fumed. _NO WAY! _"Chriiiisss! Stop making excuses!" Chasing the two, "Admit it! I hit you! I _actually _hit you!"

* * *

While Veemon was expending every effort in his body to strike Christopher in a high-stakes sparring match, Ken Ichijouji had arrived an hour before Commandramon was instructed to fetch their "guest".

A fatigue haze surrounded his eyes. Ken's sleek, perfectly combed hair exploded all over, projecting an image resembling the Kaiser as well as showcasing his exhaustion and stress. He slumped on the chair in the War Room, where Commandramon patiently waited for them…

…sleeping in a chair on the opposite side of a table.

"That was the _worst_ meeting the four of us ever had," grumbled the Tactician, his voice nothing but a murmur. Waking up the military dinosaur was the worst possible thing he could do at the moment, for it would get the ball rolling and force a conversation between him and their special guest before he could even prepare himself.

Worrmon, latched onto his shoulder like an eternal familiar, rubbed his green cheeks on his human half. His beloved partner. "Ken," the caterpillar consoled. "You haven't had a big strategy meeting like that in _ages_."

In hindsight, Wormmon was right.

"Yeah," the Tactician murmured in agreement. "First time we all spoke about a strategic decision as…" Ken rolled his tongue within his cheeks. Frustration seeped into its pitch as he, hesitantly, verbalized the final world. "**Equals**."

Ken Ichijouji's problem with this wasn't the revival of his old feelings as the Digimon Kaiser. No, otherwise, he probably would've been plotting murder at this point. A backstab of massive proportions.

His ire floated directly from the unnecessary bureaucracy that came with the equality of all Chosen Children leading the Digital Monsters. In the past two years alone, he had long acclimatized to the leadership position Koushirou, Iori, Joe, and their digimon nominated him into. To the instant obedience his digimon subordinates—his loyal comrades, who trusted him as he trusted _them_—displayed in a single order.

To bouncing off his options against Wormmon in times of doubt.

It wasn't that Joe and Koushirou—or Iori for that matter—stood below him in status. Rather, it was their specialties that divided them.

Joe pioneered the art of Medicine, besting even the greatest digimon veterinarians of the human world. Months of studying digimon biology and working with Koushirou (and Gennai, indirectly) resulted in the development of state-of-the-art facilities, earning him the respect of digimon across all types, across all levels. If Vamdemon was still alive out there, somewhere, Ken once mused, he wouldn't be wrong to choose Joe Kido to research his third resurrection.

Koushirou, on the other hand, had and always would be the Twelve's technician and geek. He shunned the prospect of leadership when the four of them first retreated into the Digital World two years ago and volunteered to the task of developing the technological faculties of the organization _while_ attempting—numerous times in futility—to break through the Digital Dive System, the impenetrable barrier between the two worlds. A statistician, theorist, and programmer, the Child of Knowledge was the Twelve's greatest intellectual asset.

Ken Ichijouji had shut his eyes, reclining on one of the chairs in the War Room. Faint echoes of cheering filtered through the walls, coming from the eastern side of the base, sounds that somehow felt _appropriate_ to associate with encouragement, with support. What caused it was not his concern; neither was it Commandramon's.

"I'm not looking down on the three of them—

Wormmon continued to nuzzle his cheek. "Ken…"

"—it's just, those two aren't _adept_ at strategy."

"Ken, I know." Had the Child of Kindness looked at his partner right now, he would've stopped at the look of sympathy bursting from his blue eyes.

"Not like Taichi," he compared. "Not like Daisuke." A pause. Ken sighed. "Not like _me_."

Driving the Tactician's consternation was not the initial portion of the meeting, but rather its end.

Iori, his chief of operations, under whose freezing guidance all digimon were trained, disciplined to value combat efficiency and impart respect on their superiors, had begun the meeting with a report of DSI aggression. Border territories were being taken left and right. Deletions among the digimon defending the lines were far, far greater than the deaths suffered by humanity, even after the grunts' numbers were accounted for.

Additionally, the DDS's ability to generate a massive portal linking the two worlds together in secure territories ensured instant reinforcements at any period, bolstering the offensive movements of the generals under the DSI's command.

The war, apparently, had become lopsided, leaving Ken to wonder what was happening in the Real World, to the "Digidestined" group Taichi was in the process of forming two years ago.

Koushirou, ever the technological visionary, suspected incredible innovations on the DSI's part. _What_ they were, however, was a different matter altogether. Few survived to witness the power of humanity's technology. Fewer were those who retained lucidity; they were conscious enough to narrate the horrors of the front lines as righteous defenders of their homeland described the equipment as possessing the nefarious ability to sap all energy. "One minute you're fine," Izumi's report quoted, "the next you're so tired you can't move. Not one step!"

Science's involvement in the war cast a bleak light on Joe Kido. Although digimon—combatants, civilians, and refugees alike—benefited immensely from the fruits of his studies, the sheer ferocity of the Digital Suppression Initiative's offensive overwhelmed the life-saving apparati available in most satellite bases.

That Gennai was suddenly cut off from all forms of communication worried them all.

Indeed, the Digital Monsters—the Twelve—were losing the war. The Chosen Children in the Real World were unable to bolster their counterparts stranded in the parallel plane of reality. Had it not been for the developments of the past four days, defeat was all but destined.

Inevitable.

"Last week," Ken voiced, carrying an air of formality, of a renewed confidence. "We lost the Spire of Courage. Our satellite base in the Great Forest was attacked within 24 hours of defeat."

A golden armadillo, situated beside Iori, raised his head. "The Great Forest?" he exclaimed. "Veemon's staying there!"

Gomamon stared at them all, eyes focused on Armadimon while wrapping his wide arms around Joe's chest. "He's not dumb enough to defend the frontlines, would he?"

Ken shook his head; the white seal's assessment had been spot on. "About that…"

All the recent developments were laid out, brought to the table before the three Chosen Children and their digital halves. From Veemon's close call at the Spire of Courage, the strange human he befriended in his place of origin, all the way to the experimental technology being tested by the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Joe, the Child of Reliability, could not help but gravitate on the dragon's speedy recovery, who was awake, alive, and well, after four days, whereas Wormmon could barely crawl at his usual place until now. "Don't you find that strange?" Kido asked, adjusting his glasses. "Chosen digimon heal faster than most digimon, but not _that _faster."

A full-grown adult, Iori grunted while exhaling a breath of contempt. "Probably had something to do with _Christopher_." While he found the concept behind Digital Modification very promising and ripe with potential (Koushirou unconditionally agreed to look into it as soon as possible), the Chosen Child considered reprehensible Chris's behavior to date.

There were plenty of reasons behind the clear animosity, but the most telling of them were his adamant refusal of assisting the Twelve's cause, his condescension and disdain of all digimon (with Veemon as the lone exception), and nondisclosure of background and motives.

Worse, he's the only one who had direct influence on the DSI's prototype technology. Didn't Christopher admit the soldiers were using **his** machinery in the first place?

"We can't trust him!" Iori proclaimed. "If he's seeking the DSI in the Real World, we risk _him_ siding with them, **ESPECIALLY **if they actually have something he wants.

Stern, brown eyes ogled the entire group. "We can't risk another betrayal." Everyone attending the meeting, Wormmon in particular, withered at his words, recalling the last time they pondered over a decision like this. "I don't want Primary Village to happen all over again."

Ken could see his fists shake.

Wormmon tried to lift up their spirits. "Veemon's a good judge of character," he pronounced, antenna rising from his optimism. "If he's friends with Chris, I don't think there's a prob—

"That doesn't mean anything!" Armadimon's human half cut him off, seeing nothing but red flags, too rigid to bend over, even for a little bit of leeway. Iori was as conservative as his grandfather, opting to err on the side of caution. "Veemon's making a mistake. He's substituting this _stranger _for Daisuke, and there'll be **hell** to pay when everything blows up in his face!"

The Digimon of Kindness was agitated. "_Hida_," his mouth snapped. A honorific originally meant to convey the utmost respect had been added to the articulation, now twisted into relaying a subtle message of annoyance. "Veemon **knows** what he's doing. He's not replacing Daisuke. He's said it to my face, and—

"You two, stop it!" Joe exclaimed, seizing the rare opportunity to grab the spotlight. "Let's not rabble over this and look at the potential _benefits_ instead." Ken did not show it at the time, but he approved of the intervention. Iori's distrust was getting out of hand and the last thing he wanted was an argument that could've wasted the entire meeting.

In fact, Ken Ichijouji would've intervened himself had the debate lasted for another minute or two.

He let Joe take the torch and wave it around as the primary speaker of this round, passing it to Koushirou on occasion as the two spoonfed their audience—a couple more humans and four digimon, their partners included.

Their understanding of the potential upside was consonant with the Tactician's, who had been far more open to the thought of using Christopher Van Numen to further the Twelve's ends. Whether he was willing or not, the "stranger", as Iori put it, still needed _them_ to enter the Real World.

Setting Chris loose in the Real World would _definitely_ equate to reestablishing communications with the Digidestined—the Chosen Children's faction on Earth, thousands of members across the globe. Ken's tactical mind acknowledged the utmost importance of communication.

The Digital World needed help. _They_ needed help. All four of them! Ichijouji wasn't so daft to not consider the Digidestined was in a precarious situation itself. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been a two-year period of zero correspondence between the two factions. Something was happening and whatever it was, Ken was certain the countless digimon under _his_ command—_his_ protection—would compensate for the brain drain his intentions stipulated.

Victory did not just necessitate reconnection. Reconnection was **demanded**.It was actively **sought for**, for the Divine Power governing the worlds, as one or as many, would **never** lay the rutted path to triumph, should the Digital Monsters and the Digidestined fail to convene. Should the Digital Suppression Initiative wreak havoc unchecked, abusing science and technology to separate the two.

But and nevertheless, the _opportunity_ of reconnection stoked the flames of passion within the gathered Chosen, human and digital halves alike. A personal agenda. A matter so important they would move heaven and earth to address it.

Their families.

Their friends.

Joe had not spoken with his elder brother, Shuu, in years, not even during the months preceding the war, and their retreat into the Digital World. How often did his thoughts—did everyone's thoughts—visit Jun Motomiya? Think about the pain and agony of the war? Was she still with the elder Kido?

Iori hasn't seen his grandfather Chikara either. Ken's ears already had their fair share of unintentional apprehension, catching hushed conversations between Iori and his digital half, snuggling away somewhere in some desolate place, where the Chosen Child would vent at, cuddle with, and otherwise exhaust his personal concerns through Armadimon. The proverbial one-to-one expression of the bond between human and digimon, between the two partners—the twin sides of the relationship.

These conversations revolved around Chikara's health, and Iori was often left to wonder if his beloved grandfather was still alive out there. Clearly, the Child of Humility was not at ease, relentlessly barraged by concerns rooted in the Real World. Although the Chosen tended to conceal his worries through the image of a professional, through detachment, through his work as the Digital Monsters' head of operations, Ken, and all five of his colleagues among the Twelve, saw through Iori's guise the questions plaguing his inner self.

All four of them had their own problems to worry about. For Koushirou, out of anything in the world he would gladly welcome the sight of his step-parents. For Ken Ichijouji, nothing could be better than seeing Kiriha and Ayumi—his parents—once more. Thoughts of his parents almost always yielded to the thoughts of Miyako… of her family.

Summoning the Inoues to his mind brought forth a pang of sorrow in his heart, for it reminded him of what occurred in the past, of the chain of tragedies that led to this moment, to the situation now, to the despondency and loneliness nagging at his very soul in every night, when he could do nothing but release his melancholy in muted whispers, communing with Wormmon in his own bed.

Why was Iori against it so strongly? Wormmon trusted Veemon's ability to discern people more than he could trust his own. Despite Commandramon's write-up of Chris's behavior to date, which could only be construed as self-serving and detrimental to the Twelve, Wormmon had spoken with the blond and had seen for himself how _different_ he was around Daisuke's partner. He could not even forget his digital half's words, delineating the closeness the two shared, as if Chris and Veemon had been friends for far, far longer.

If Christopher could be _swayed_ through the Digimon of Miracles, then surely they could nudge the blond in the Digidestined's direction? And if Chris was truly on Veemon's side, was it not plausible—was it not _certain_—he would invade the Digital Suppression Initiative to achieve his mission rather than joining it? Wasn't it possible he may very well choose to seek out Daisuke, for the dragon's sake?

No matter how many times Ken, Koushirou, Joe, or even Iori examined the strategy, it was bound to succeed. Christopher had no choice but to visit the Digidestined—only they held information on the DSI, their operations and their facilities. Wasn't this a perfect chance to set down the foundations of a reconnection? "Probabilities of failure are low," Koushirou Izumi avowed, courageously weighting it as if it had been one of his esoteric theories.

"Looks like it's worth the risk to me, Iori," grinned the yellow armadillo, who flanked his partner like a second shadow. If the merits of the option persuaded Armadimon, then Iori was sure to follow, no matter how strongly his personal opinion clashed against the majority.

With the memory in its full glory residing within his head, Ken could only grunt. "Hmph, I would've been back the other day if it weren't for that meeting."

The Digimon Tactician permitted a few more minutes to elapse before he moved on from his private irritation, his nerves relaxing at the soft head of his digimon partner continued to nuzzle his own.

"Are you okay now?" Wormmon asked, sensing his reprieve.

A verbal response was wholly unnecessary. Ken Ichijouji smiled as he turned to Wormmon until they were nose-to-nose. His eyes shot to his right, peeking at the military dinosaur on the other side. "Commandramon has had enough sleep now, don't you think?"

* * *

Christopher Van Numen arrived fifteen minutes after Commandramon approached him outside. Following the dinosaur's lead, he went inside the War Room, through the wooden door standing in for the steel one Veemon ripped off its hinges one week ago. The blue dragon shadowed him, clinging to the blond incessantly pleading for him to "admit his loss".

Commandramon was dismissed on arrival. Ken's face had a look of temptation, one that clearly expressed he wanted to speak with Christopher alone. One nudge from the caterpillar resting on his shoulder—his _head_, now—was enough to ensure Veemon sat in as well.

At the condition he was quiet.

"Looks like you've made yourself at home here," the Tactician broke the ice.

Chris was not interested in small talk. Neither was he inclined to disclose every single activity he's engaged in these past seven days. "Yeah," he uttered, impudent.

"A man of few words, huh?" Wormmon remarked.

Veemon's mouth was open, his tongue in the process of violating his promised silence, about to correct his fellow Chosen when Ken Ichijouji overtook him.

"It's obvious why we're here," the Digimon Tactician spoke, his inflection acquiring a feel one could only associate with dignity and respect, the sort that warranted the full attention of his audience, captured or otherwise. "We've approved your entry into the Real World, as we believe we've plenty to gain from this opportunity."

Christopher listened intently, but not before sparing a glance at Veemon, whose smooth, leathery body jittered restlessly, his muzzle curled up in a wide smirk, complementing his expectant eyes.

"I don't know if Veemon told you about it," continued the Child of Kindness. "But all communications and transfers between the Real and Digital Worlds are regulated by the DSI's Digital Dive System—a sophisticated program designed to screen all connections coming in and out of the Digital World. Multiple firewalls and software written by professional hackers block **any** signal designated anomalous, _simultaneously_ tracing it to the source. Because of this, we've been effectively cut off from the Real World. No communications. No transfers. Nothing.

Ken Ichijouji spoke as if they were talking—breathing in—living within a computer. For all this talk of firewalls, computer programs, and software, Christopher would have laughed at the Tactician and called him out for being stupid if it wasn't for the serious air he carried. Christopher was so baffled he no longer listened to the man sitting before him.

How could they be data, at this very moment? Goldenrod eyes turned away from Ken and focused their gaze on the blue dragon. Veemon saw this and, the edges of his mouth curling into a barely noticeable grin, ogled back, scarlet pupils taking in the image of the dumbstruck Chris before him. Having spent the past three—_seven_—days with this sentient creature, there was no way, there was just NO WAY, the blue dragon could be a mere runtime operating in the digital world of the Internet.

Yes, Veemon tried his best to explain this to him. So many times.

For the past three nights, while he waited for Ken's return, Chris slept in Veemon's room, content to sleep on the floor on a soft, fluffy, and comfortable mattress the satellite base's digimon brought in for him. Although the blue dragon had his own bed, although Chris's futon had been set adjactent to it, Veemon preferred—always opted—to sleep beside him. A decision that might as well have been expected, if not ensured, by all the desperate scribbles of a dejected past surrounding the both of them.

He learned of Veemon's hyperactivity firsthand, for the digimon attacked him with questions, one after another, about his journey across dimensions, the myriad of characters he met, and the places no human—no digimon—has ever seen before, locations so dazzling Chris could barely describe it. These one-on-one conversations provided an avenue for Veemon to recount his "Adventure" ten years ago, and in excruciating detail.

Enthused, Veemon painted a photograph of happiness, along with trials and tribulations that he had been more than happy to struggle through with his dearest Daisuke, with someone he and the group could count on in times of darkness. Veemon was understandably nostalgic over the whole experience and he loved talking about the past. Doubtlessly, Christopher exploited it to improve his understanding of the universe he landed himself in this time.

If Veemon was able to read minds and perceive Chris's uncaring intentions, he wouldn't have cared at all. Anyone who so much as looked at his muzzle, swinging tail, and his hands' nonstop movements—reacting wildly to scenes he found outrageous and exciting—could see the blue dragon relished having someone **willingly **lending an ear to his stories, ignoring their age of ten years.

Despite the tens of minutes Veemon spent explaining what the Digital World was, he couldn't for the life of him **explicate** the reason _why_ the Digital World came to be in the first place, why a realm of computers connecting to each other throughout the Earth, sending information from one hub to another, would spawn a virtual world where he and countless others like the dragon breathed and lived, a world where Christopher could see, smell, feel, touch, and hear like it was on any physical plane, on all the other universes he's visited.

The first time the Chosen _mentioned_ computers and digital data—particles invented by mankind—Chris laughed at him and called him a moron. His reward was Veemon pinching his cheeks. Hard.

When the blond crudely observed, "Why are your hands so sweaty?" in one fell swoop he undermined the Chosen's oversimplified exposition of the fact they were **in **a computer and _definitely _not some virtual reality; Veemon's frustration over Chris' inability to grasp the Digital World and everything it stood for led to the dragon's verbal assault on Chris' intelligence along with an irrevocable conclusion to that particular conversation.

A contrite apology succeeded all three when morning arrived. The feeling had been mutual, and it was decided in a bout of silence Chris wouldn't ask him about the nature of the Digital World anymore and instead accept it for what it was.

Accepting something for what it was and seeking a reason for **being** what it was were two different matters. The majority of humankind, as an example, accepted there was something divine behind their existence, but for the collective memory of the race, could not even figure out the reason for living, always mindful, always fearful, of the unstoppable sickle hounding every man, woman, and child without exception.

Consequently, when Ken Ichijouji, the Digimon Tactician, the so-called Child of Kindness, began speaking before him, Christopher's head returned to that night, accepting this bizarre universe for what it was yet questioning its very existence.

The daydreaming stopped when Veemon kicked his shins. "Don't stare at me like _that_," he murmured, displaying the fruits of his profound experience in letting something enter one ear and out the other in an instant. "It's creepy."

Christopher responded with an uncharacteristic pout and forced his ears to take in the Tactician's words. "Koushirou," he was saying, "managed to protect most of the Digiports under our control with his own programs when the DDS first went online two years ago. He devoted his entire life to finding a way to reenter the Real World."

The blond straightened up, making sure Ken knew he had Chris' full attention. This was the part of the conversation he had been waiting for, the part where everything was going to follow through. "All his attempts failed. The Digital Dive System evolved daily—by the time Koushirou devised a way to penetrate the system the DDS had already upgraded it."

Not exactly the news he expected.

"So how'll I go to this Real World then?" he queried, genuinely concerned over this. A blue sheen flickered over the blond's goldenrod eyes for a second. _Damn, _Chris cursed under his breath. _R-Link's still offline. I can't create my own portal, then._

Wormmon spoke on Ken's behalf. "He's getting there."

The Digimon Tactician reached underneath the table and set a small, black box on its surface. "Before we lost contact with Gennai"—_Who's that again?_—"he and Koushirou collaborated on this. It's the **only** thing we've got that can penetrate the system, no matter how many times the DSI upgrades the DDS. It'll even prevent them from tracing the signal back to us!"

He must have seen Christopher's shocked expression, discerning the image he had in his head: that the whole conundrum over the DDS's impenetrability had been bloated into a hyperbole. An exaggeration.

"But," Ken went on, before the blond could so much as insert a particle into the conversation. "Whenever we use it, we couldn't control the transmission's destination and—

"Uhhhhhh," Veemon spoke up, his pitched voice drawling with its childish twang. "Just what do you mean by that, Ken?"

The question left Christopher nonplussed, its implications reflecting badly on the blue dragon. If he didn't understand what that meant, even in layman's terms, then he was out of the loop. Cut off from the inner circle the Tactician surrounded himself with.

As if Veemon's opinion, as if Veemon's _knowledge_, of the Chosen Children's operations, counted for nothing. Like he would just be in the way if he'd been included.

"Vee," he accosted, keeping his voice hushed, speaking only loud enough for the dragon to hear.

Crimson eyes dilated, looking straight at him. "Huh?"

"Shouldn't you know—

"Whatever message we send," Ken enunciated, unaware of the private question, "whatever item we realize from the Digital World, it'll show up on **any random computer** connected to the Internet." Frowning, "Worse, the DDS can track the _destination_ device, so you'd have five, ten minutes at most before DSI peacekeepers come knocking."

Chris remarked, "Sounds risky."

Wormmon's nasal voice posed, "Any questions so far?"

"Just one." A pause. "Do you know anything about R&D?"

It became apparent to Christopher the two of them expected a query related to the transfer operation. They thought he would've asked what it was like to realize into the Real World, to be transformed from a digital program to an analog body. Perhaps they thought Chris might ask about the Chosen Children trapped in the Real World, show some concern in inquiring about the reasons behind the lack of communication attempts from _their_ side.

Despite his superhuman abilities, the blond was no mind reader, discerning how his question overturned their expectations through sheer deduction alone.

After all, both Ken and Wormmon held their silence for a protracted five seconds. An awkward cough jettisoned out Veemon's muzzle before Ken made his indigo hair flail sideways in a gesture commonly associated with negative. "No," it was forfeited. "We only know the DSI's Research and Development division governs all research on control and suppression technologies."

Chris cocked an eyebrow. "Vee and I didn't fight a bunch of _nerds_ last week," the counter came, accompanied by a tone that could have been only defined as affronted. He knew Veemon's head bobbed in agreement without a single glance at the dragon.

Ken frowned. "The _Military and Administration_ division handles everything else R&D doesn't control. Enforcing the will of the Digital Suppression Initiative."

"M&A people also manage the many businesses it owns," Wormmon tersely chirped.

"Why am I getting the feeling," Chris thought aloud, his voice audible to the three individuals around him, "you guys don't know **a** **goddamn thing** about the enemy?"

His statement was damning. Wormmon jerked out of shock, his leaf-green head turning red before his eyes.

Veemon bounced in his seat himself, his muzzle an expression of surprise _and_ fright. Surprise at what his words insinuated, at the direct assault on the venerated leaders of so many digimon across the Digital World. Fright for Ken Ichijouji's reaction, for it was certain he'd take great offense at the brazen insult.

The Digimon of Miracles personally considered the assertion unnecessary, adding more fuel to the fire, adding to the unsightly blemish his refusal to cooperate with the Chosen Child _or_ his partner already created. Veemon clutched his chair and lifted it slightly, inching towards the man he called his friend.

The white skin of his muzzle a flush red, Veemon was clearly embarrassed by the shameless assertion, spoken as if Chris had a history of disrespecting key figures of authority. He lifted his snout, aiming his nose horn—and his words, of course—towards the blond's ear just above eye level. Murmuring, "Chris, you shouldn't have said—

Laughter interrupted the blue dragon.

Laughter straight from the Tactician's mouth.

He was _amused, _yet incredibly humiliated.

Veemon ogled the Child of Kindness, confusion bubbling within his dilating eyes, within the blank stare he now held. Christopher's gaze was just as blank, although confusion was far from present within his goldenrod orbs.

"You're right," Ken conceded. "You're absolutely right. We have **no intel**." A smirk appeared on his face. "Not at all."

The green caterpillar trilled in concern. "Ken, why're you smiling?"

_And why is he staring __**right at me**__?_ Wondered Christopher. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, awkward.

Once a few gauche seconds elapsed, the reason why a wide grin associated typically with the mentally insane was glued onto the Tactician's countenance dawned on the blond.

It wasn't that they had no information on the DSI, on their operations, or on the ins and outs of their organization. Rather, they possessed nothing that could turn the tides against the human invasions constantly bombarding the borders of their territories, for the DSI soldiers merely cross over into the Digital World, through a portal connecting directly into a military hangar, every single man and vehicle ready for combat.

Infiltrators would be isolated in an instant and were either destined for deletion _or_ a life of suppression, thwarting the efficacy of such a strategy.

"_I'm_ the source," muttered the blond, grasping the Chosen Child's intentions behind his approval. "You want **me **to do something for you, isn't there?"

Satisfied with Chris's response, Ken Ichijouji revealed an orange box the size of a food carton from beneath the table, passing it to the other end for both Christopher and Veemon to see. One look at Veemon's astonishment and anyone could tell he was _really_ out of the loop. Detached from his colleagues and their partners. _You must've been lonely_, the blond noted silently.

"I want you to take this to the Digidestined."

"The Digidestined?" Christopher scoffed. _What a stupid name._

"The Chosen Children!" Veemon answered him immediately, eager to say something. "_Plus_," the digimon emphasized in a bright, cheery manner, "people who support us."

"Why?" demanded the blond. "What's in it for me?"

"Simple," the Tactician rebutted, raising a finger. "One of my colleagues designed the Orange Box to allow full bypass of the Digital Dive System."

"**Full** bypass!" Chris ejaculated. He pointed angrily at the other item on the table. "Then why're we even resorting to—

"An Orange Box must also be hooked up to the recipient computer in the Real World," Ken deadpanned. "We can't use this otherwise."

_That_ addressed his question.

"The Chosen Children," Ken continued, "need to **reconnect** and start coordinating so we can turn the tables.

His eyes narrowed. "Since you're going to the Real World and make an enemy out of the DSI, you might as well help us."

Chris opened his mouth, only for Ken to cut him off.

"What's in it for you?" The Child of Kindness rose from his seat, glaring intently at the blond as his own lips supplied the answer. "I'm willing to bet the Digidestined's got all the intel you seek."

An incensed grumble vibrated in Christopher's throat. Accepting this responsibility was yet another intervention in this universe. First, the DSI somehow got their hands on his technology, and now this opportunistic bastard of a tactician sought to position he and his friends for victory the _moment_ Chris strips the DSI of its æther technology?

Christopher was stupefied. Too dumbstruck his fists shook in anger. No matter how many times he tried to limit _his _influence in local affairs following his first contact with the Digimon of Miracles, following the facilitation of a successful base defense, somehow, one way or another, he sunk further, deeper into the political machinery governing this universe, weighing himself down with problems that were never his own, problems that should've been solved by others, without any intervention whatsoever!

_Goddammit!_

"Fine!" Chris acceded, yelling at the top of his voice. "I get it, I _damn_ well get it!" He pulled the Orange Box close, activated the Realm Scanner (ignoring the startled gasps of the two Chosen of Kindness), and aimed its blue jewel at it. _Digitize._

Without warning, the Orange Box broke down into minute particles, disassembled by the powerful machinery within the bracer, all of which were absorbed into the gemstone in a fraction of a second. Veemon, having never seen this before, stared at the silver gauntlet with a gaping maw, drool dripping off his tongue at sheer amazement of having seen this up close, while Wormmon and Ken were stiff, petrified at the sight.

But Chris didn't care. He ignored their awed expressions, far too used to it for it to be a novelty, to be a subject of much discussion and learning, to be used in a conversation that would certainly bring them—or just Veemon—all closer as friends. "I take this to the"—he couldn't say the name without a derisive snort—"t-the, _your friends_ for you, and I get my intel.

He ogled Ken, giving him a stern glare, one that warned the adult to _never_ cross him. "Just so you both know, this is the first and **last** time I'm helping you guys."

Someone tugged on the left sleeve of his shirt.

Veemon's red eyes locked with his. "Chris," he said, sounding a little worried. "That doesn't include _me_, right?"

Everyone stared at the blue dragon. "What do you mean?" the blond asked.

"I wanna go with you!"

"No." Christopher blanched. "Hell no—

"I need to see the Real World."

"How many times do I have to tell you—

"That it's dangerous? Of course I know that! I can't even evol—

"Then why do you keep **insisting**—

"Why aren't you even **listening**?" Veemon growled, his voice straining from annoyance. "I _told_ you, Daisuke's out there! I can't just leave him alone! He's my partner—my brother—my family! What if he's lonely? What if he's in trouble? I can't just leave him like—

"But you can't take care of yourself! You can't even _beat_ me one-on-one—

"I have **YOU**, don't I? You can protect me!"

"I can't do that all the time!" he gestured towards Ken and Wormmon as if they were statues petrified in place, not knowing the Chosen Child interpreted his words to mean Chris held Veemon on an entirely different standard than everyone else. "I can't focus everything on you now that they've—

"Oh yes you can! I survived the fight last week thanks to you, didn't I?"

"That," He faltered."T-that—that isn't—that wasn't what I was—you're missing the effing—

"You even implied I could go with you if I hit you once!"

He grunted. "Hmph, like _that_ actually happened."

Veemon stood on the chair and countered Christopher face-to-face, their heads almost touching. "My **skull **struck your **belly**!" he spat.

"You tried so many times!" he lambasted.

"Beh!" Veemon blew a raspberry, not minding the spray. "I still hit you in the end!"

"While I was distracted!"

"You?" The blue dragon's muzzle twisted into a dubious appearance. "DISTRACTED? In a **one-on-one**?"

"VEEMON!" A pair of hands slammed on the table. "STOP IT!" The Digimon Tactician's voice boomed like thunder, forcing the immature argument to cessation. "Sit down, _both of you_.

As the two complied, "You have no idea how much I agree with Christopher."

His shock was discernible. Hearing Christopher say it was one thing, but the Digimon Tactician—the best friend of his human half—_agreeing _with him was another. "Y-you can't, you can't be agreeing with—

"You don't know what it's like out there," Ken clarified. "You have no idea how much the world changed one year after Daisuke left you in File Island, how much the war changed humankind…"

"Please," entreated the dragon, adamant. "I have to find Daisuke, Ken!"

"No."

"B-b-b, but!"

Chris had had it. Enduring Veemon's pestering was hard enough, but he wasn't just going to let Veemon sabotage the remainder of the discussion with his pleading. He wasn't going to allow him to influence the Chosen Child with crocodile tears or pleas of desperation. _Hell no!_

Without warning, Christopher Van Numen seized the Digimon of Miracles by the back of the neck, opened the door, and literally threw him out the room. "Drill it in your head, Veemon! **NO IS NO!**"

"Shit," the blond griped. "Vee can be so annoying sometimes."

Once more, he stared at the Digimon Tactician, taking his seat opposite him. "So where were we?" Chris started, hoping to get the ball rolling, certain there were still other things Ken had to say. Besides, there was also the matter of replacing the armor he lost in the Midnight Assault.

Neither of them paid any attention to the small caterpillar as large as a stuffed animal creeping out of the room.

* * *

"Let Veemon go."

So sudden was the statement—so damn **close** to his ears!—Ken literally choked on the food he was having in the Mess Hall, immediately losing the dignified composure accompanying his every movement.

He had to down a full glass of water before the bolus in his throat was coerced into the abyss of his stomach.

"Wormmon!" the Chosen Child scolded. "How many times have I told you _not_ to sneak up on me?"

The Digimon of Kindness did not rebut, his bright, cerulean eyes continuing their stare. Wormmon's features were scrunched; had he possessed eyebrows, surely they had to be furrowed at this very moment. Ken swore he had never seen his partner's antenna _that _rigid before.

Ken didn't need Wormmon to repeat what he just said. "You know I can't do that." He shook his head.

Silence met his ears.

A groan. "Wormmon, you were there—it's just too dangerous for him." He faced his digimon partner. "Don't you remember how people treat digimon now?"

Wormmon's shut mouth accentuated his intention on playing the "glare until capitulation" game, a method Ken Ichijouji found crude and immature. A method that relied heavily on looking cute. It didn't take much to guess where he got _that_ from.

The Child of Kindness scratched his head. _Dammit, why does he keep acting like Veemon sometimes?_ "He hasn't seen Japan in three years! He hasn't seen the way humans adapted to digimon like him!"

"So what, Ken?" replied a nasal voice.

He hissed. "'So what?'" Ken reiterated, not minding the lack of disrespect as much as the insinuation his concerns were baseless and irrelevant. "Earth has changed. Everyone knows that, _except him._"

"Because you guys never bothered to."

"How can we? Even though he grew up with _Daisuke of all people_,Veemon's almost as innocent as Hikari and he won't—he will **not** like the changes we've seen—

Wormmon's angry disposition deflated like a balloon that ran out of air, its lone orifice left open for the molecules to escape. "We haven't even told him about his partner…"

"You already know why, Wormmon. We've had this conversation before." Ken locked eyes with his digital half. "The last thing I want to do is _crush_ his hope.

"The experience will shock—will **break** him, and I just don't want that to happen."

The Digimon Tactician was _certain_ it would happen. Japan's—the world's society had changed so much since digimon began proliferating the Real World, the two species began a coexistence far from what the Twelve envisioned, far from the fairy tale fantasies they conceived on 2003, months after BelialVamdemon's defeat, months after Armagemon permanently rented the barriers separating the two dimensions.

He feared for the blue dragon, afraid of how the sights, the people, the _culture_ could affect him. How could he have known so many things had changed in the **one year** between the day Daisuke left him in the Digital World, and the day the Chosen Children were scattered, isolated, and hunted down like insurgents with the capability of toppling governments and committing heinous acts that would make their own parents weep in shame?

Worse, by virtue of growing up with a rambunctious human who matured late in his teenage years, Veemon caught Daisuke's habit of rejecting anything that went against his morals, against his personal code of ethics, to the point he would willingly fight tooth and nail for what he believed in.

Perhaps back in the day, during their adventure in 2002, such naïve and innocent actions might have had a positive impact. After all, it was Daisuke's stubbornness—Daisuke's absolute determination—that saved them all from BelialVamdemon in the end.

But the world has changed. Their enemies were no longer digimon, but _humans_. Humans who also fought for what they thought was right, who were, as one cohesive whole, as stubborn as Daisuke ever was. Alone, absolute determination—the will to change the world—would never bring one so far. Not in reality.

If that had been the case, then none of them should be stranded in the Digital World now. None of them should be trapped in this realm separated from family, from friends, from a normal, happy life.

_Those three wouldn't even be dead!_

"I can't allow it," Ken asserted. "I can't let Veemon go to the Real World, not until—

Wormmon shut his eyes. "And when will that be?" His voice reminded Ken of someone on the verge of crying. It invoked memories, memories of the distant past, of a green caterpillar pleading his partner to resist the influence of the Dark Spore and choose what was right, tears clearly running down his face. "It's been two years—_three _for him, and **nothing has happened**!

"We've all been on defense for a long time, Ken," argued the digimon. "Christopher's our only ticket to making _real _progress and he _knows _it."

"But—

"Veemon's **desperate**."

A downcast feeling stabbed Ken's heart, compelling him to turn and take a bite of the food he'd been ignoring for the past five minutes. Yet none of these actions stopped Wormmon from talking. Neither did he try halting him. "You know how much he misses Daisuke. He'll do **anything **he can to find him.

"Anything!" Sighing, "No matter how stupid and dangerous."

"…even if he had my blessing, Chris won't allow it," Ichijouji spoke, taking a few moments to respond. "Even _he_ knows the danger—

"Then DO something about it."

Ken was stunned to hear the direct order. Perplexed, maybe. "What can I—

"I know you can think of a way." Wormmon tilted his head. "Besides, you noticed it, too, have you? Christopher treats Veemon _very _differently from us…"

"I don't see how that'll help—

"Ken," the Digimon of Kindness implored, his voice piteous. "Just do something, please. I'm begging you…"

* * *

Three sheets of colored metal were propped on the perimeter, each one as thick as a foot. A pair of goldenrod eyes peered at them, inspecting their shape, their form, their luster, and toughness.

_They called it Chrome Digizoid_, Christopher pondered, ruminating on what he had been told by the few digimon in the compound who did not show any signs of fear and terror upon mere approach. Although his three-day stint as a laborer with Veemon and many of his allies eased the friction that alienated the blond, Chris could not help but feel progress had been made only on the level of the collective, but not the individual.

After all, he was the one who was known among the digimon as "Veemon's friend". Others, however, coined him as "Veemon's _guardian_", its logic established on the way he treated the dragon—as someone he was willing to protect. Be comfortable with.

In other words, an equal.

As someone he would treat with respect and equality rather than a mere _thing_ whose existence revolved around usefulness.

Save for Commandramon, none of them knew his name, yet all of them, even the ones from the Fortress, knew his cold and callous demeanor, his supposed lack of morals, and _especially_ his monstrous strength.

Christopher could care less about fitting in with the dragon's friends. Occupying his mind right now was the replacement for his armor. With his breastplate destroyed, he needed something strong enough to keep him alive throughout his journey. Something, preferably, capable of resisting æther.

With that train of thought, the blond aimed the silver firearm at the light blue sheet of Chrome Digizoid. Extremely light and a weaker, but more flexible variant of the hardest material in the Digital World, it was perfect for a replacement. Of course, the color influenced his choice—sky blue went well with his trench coat.

A pale green orb shot out of the barrel, eliciting a high-pitched scream that blazed through the ears of digimon within fifty meters. It was so sudden and strong that any unlucky victim leaped out of fright.

The æther sphere bore into the blue sheet, dispersing somewhat before the rest ate into the armor. Chris frowned. Æther resistance was low. _Very _low. _I can't depend on this!_ He grunted in frustration, disappointed.

The scowl on his face couldn't have been any longer by the time Christopher had fired a shot or two at the other sheets. "Goddammit," he swore, "this is the best this universe can offer and **none** of them can defend against æther?"

Christopher punched the wall they were propped on. Though the strike's power was controlled—managed—the concrete _still _crumpled before his fist and fissures suddenly appeared around the impact site, becoming jagged, crisscrossing veins as they converged in the center. His eyes ogled the bracer affixed to his left arm.

The Realm Scanner.

The ultimate shield.

There was nothing in the multiverse capable of destroying it. It was as invulnerable as the staff hoisted on his back. The R-Scanner was now his sole defense against those wielding weapons and powers strong enough to hurt him, even kill. Most people may have deluded into thinking this was better than nothing, but Christopher's experience had taught him "better than nothing" eventually led to ruin, fostering the sense of complacency and excessive dependency. _This isn't good._

In the end, protection was still protection, and Chris couldn't exactly look at the gift horse in the mouth. Chrome Digizoid may not be resistant to æther, but with recent developments, he was almost certain he'd be staying in this universe—whether it be the Digital World or this "Real World" everybody incessantly referred to—for at least a few more weeks.

The tiny and miniscule possibility of a strong enemy capable of hurting him persuaded Christopher to veer for the nearest container of equipment in search of a vest infused with blue Chrome Digizoid. One could say the man was lucky to have found something barely five minutes after he found a container full of weapons and armor in one corner of the compound, placed presumably for easy access by the small digimon.

At least those who had actual hands, and opposable thumbs to boot.

It was a black vest. Not only was it a perfect fit but it also had adjustable straps on the back, something he could use to carry his staff whenever he wasn't wearing his coat. As Christopher Van Numen unclipped the armor and began putting it on, he couldn't help but send the Command Center a fleeting glance.

_I'm leaving at last_, he noted.

A sad note at that.

He did not really understand why, but a part of him didn't want to leave Veemon. In the past few days, he had come to like the blue dragon, able to tolerate his childish mannerisms and playful nature. Even in his own, isolated cogitations, Christopher could not pin a fixed definition of their relationship.

They were friends of course, but his mind was occupied with more abstruse questions. Where was this desire to stay coming from? Why was he feeling like he should keep the Digimon of Miracles around him?

Something stirred within Christopher every time he observed the dragon's childish, naïve behavior, whether it was in real time or in his memories. That something hurt his heart and caused it to pound into his body emotions both familiar and alien.

Regret.

Envy.

Empathy.

Perhaps, even altruism.

Chris couldn't comprehend it. Veemon was like a mix between the affectionate Sally and the boisterous Ivan in terms of temperament—behavior, yet the dragon operated on a set of values only the word "innocent" described sufficiently. It reminded Christopher of someone in the midst of growing up, someone who was still discovering the cruelty of the real world, clinging to fading ideals so strongly nothing else could be more desperate.

It was a conjecture—a thought—an image—a trait Christopher Van Numen could identify with completely. Perhaps _this _was the source of those troubling emotions, the only thing that drew Chris from the shell he had put up around himself not long after his beloved vanished before his eyes, a memory he wanted to forget dreadfully.

But the man wasn't thinking about this. Not at all. His mind had long been trained on his principle of nonintervention. This fork in the road wasn't unexpected—a moment he knew from experience would come to pass.

Ken Ichijouji's words returned to the blond. A stern reminder of his place. He was a third party. An _outsider_, albeit one whose impact on the war bordered on the profound. Christopher knew, Christopher **felt**, intervention was unethical. The less he intervened, the less was the damage dealt to the universe's flow of history.

The balance of the universe was the greater good. It was in everyone's best interests for him to pursue it, even if the choices he had to make for its sake would take a severe toll on his own conscience. Staying away from things unrelated to him or his goals was the best he could do. His comrades, when they were still alive, respected this realistic point of view, although Sally often clashed with this policy, being as idealist as Veemon was.

This world Christopher was in… he had broken so many of his tenets within one day of his arrival. First, he befriended Veemon instead of killing him or leaving him alone. Second, he allied himself with the Chosen and defended the Satellite Base from the Modifiers, however unnatural _that _was. Third, his visit to the Real World entailed a promise to do something for the Digimon Tactician.

Fingers grasped the golden pendant dangling on his neck, lifting it up so his eyes could gaze into it. The circular shape an inch in diameter at most, Chris's goldenrod pools focused on the green jewel embedded into the material, resisting the chartreuse glint that would dare any thief to steal the accessory from him. A dare that would undoubtedly end in anguish, in a slow and agonizing death.

"I'll fix everything," he swore. "I'll retrieve what's rightfully mine."

The Realm Scanner stirred to life, bestowing a bluish hue over his eyes. A small window filled a portion of Chris's vision, depicting a summary of the items stored within the bracer. One of them was a gemstone identical to the shard fixed to his medallion.

He had never told Veemon the Realmstone was fragmented into five pieces years before this damn journey even started.

Fragmented by his own hand, no less.

Should the Digital Suppression Initiative indeed possess a piece of this powerful artifact, as Chris told himself again and again, he would have obtained the third fragment by the time he left this universe. _Then I'll be one step closer._

Closer to altering his fate.

* * *

The sunlight had taken on a distinct, orange glow by the time the Digimon Tactician showed his face outside the Command Center.

Ken Ichijouji's indigo suit was as regal as it had always been, his cape flowing behind him as if he truly had been made presiding ruler of the Digital World, as if he had earned the respect and authority from the desire to protect the digimon alone. Christopher Van Numen watched the Child of Kindness walk out, relaxing on a low tree branch facing the only concrete building in the compound.

The blond was a still lake, serene and peaceful. Though patience was a trait he lacked back in the day, in an era _predating _this fantastic voyage, Chris managed to tame the currents of his haste, preventing his impetuosity from surging beyond the surface of his being, having learned the importance of patience long ago.

Christopher had a profound understanding of the ancient axiom, "Patience is a virtue." He knew its exercise opened opportunities, permitting one to strike most effectively. He knew it smoothed the volatile emotions of people, furthering one's reputation in the public eye.

Patience was nothing more but an arbitrage of time, a political weapon to impel the desired outcome, reaping the benefits of holding one's tongue, of maintaining a position of observation and analysis, speaking only when it was absolutely necessary.

This was why Christopher allowed Ken to take all the time he needed to prepare Chris for sendoff. Directing him towards those expected to possess intimate information on the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Upon seeing the Digimon Tactician emerge from the Command Center, the blond swung down from the thick branch, landing on the ground with the only other human in this place jogging towards him, Christopher would have commended him for his astute sense of observation if it wasn't for the first thing that shot out his mouth. "Is it time?"

One nod was all he needed to see. "Let's go, then," he said, paying no attention to the hesitation paralyzing the Chosen Child from waist down. From what he could recall from his meeting with the Child of Kindness, the transfer was set to occur at the "digiport" at the edge of the Great Forest—the _decrepit_ television set Chris spotted the afternoon of his arrival.

The blond was anxious to leave, compelled to depart by the burning in his chest, an agitated feeling discernible even to the naked eye of an astute observer like the Digimon Tactician. Anyone who perceived his rushed pacing, his rapid breathing, could tell there was something on his mind.

Others would surely interpret it as the stress of his mission, coming to light in his priority list, even if nobody else in the world but he knew its specifics. Ken, perhaps, might have noticed the goldenrod eyes darting, the ears seemingly open, as if risks mounted for every second he delayed, for every minute they dawdled.

Christopher kept to himself the source of his apprehension: the blue dragon. He wanted to avoid Veemon outright, evade the moment of departure, when two friends would go their separate ways, no matter how close they became after a week of bonding.

It was a fact of life he didn't want to face.

Not again.

Not when it would only set him up with disappointment. Perhaps, even grief.

The more he delayed, the more he risked the changes his presence might bring.

Chris's feet stopped after taking the seventh step. The blond found silence when he attempted to discern the sound of footsteps behind him, scrunching the grass scattered across the ground. Ken wasn't moving, for as far as seven paces away his impeccable hearing recognized the Tactician's every breath, pinpointing his location. His lack of movement.

Puzzled, Christopher Van Numen leered back. "Aren't we leaving?"

Ken did not establish eye contact, his blue eyes developing a profound interest for the nearest tree root. "Y-yes," he murmured, displaying a behavior unfit for a proud, well-respected leader. "But…"

The man had already opened his mouth to insist for the Chosen Child to start moving when heavy footsteps crushing the blades of grass reached his ears. Quick, rapid paces devoid of grace, snapping twigs, fallen leaves crumpling noisily with every stride, stomping on the ground with such a force Chris could not help but turn towards the source, his body rotating towards one of the side exits of the Command Center…

Only for his goldenrod eyes to catch Veemon leaping at him with the full force of his legs, not giving him ample time to react as arms reached out for him. Arms that curled around his chest in a split second, its owner's grip exhibiting a level of strength a stranger would have never anticipated. "YEEEEEHHHEEEEEEEEYY!"

Glomped by the Digimon of Miracles, the dragon's momentum spun both he and Christopher twice before they fell and disturbed the earth. Veemon managed to cling onto Chris the whole time, his blue hands clasped around the blond's torso.

These same hands were still glued together when two goldenrod orbs hurled daggers at the digimon's scarlet eyes. "Veemon! W-wha, what're you doing here?"

Veemon didn't notice his angry stare and, with what couldn't be mistaken for anything _but_ affectionate gratitude, nuzzled Chris's shoulder.

The embodiment of cheer and happiness ogled the blond. "Don't you remember?" Veemon said, beaming, the smile on his snout so wide it could've drawn a line across his entire face. "I'm going with you, Chris!"

Christopher creased his eyebrows. "Wha—

The dragon interrupted him. "Ken told me you changed your mind!" His canines were bared in a joyous grin. Veemon looked so **cute** Christopher was sure it would disarm even the hardened, derisive Ivan.

"Changed my mind?" the blond reiterated incredulously, coughing out of his entranced stupor. "You—I never"—a menacing gaze flew to the Digimon Tactician, intimidating the man into taking a few steps back—"Didn't I say—

Christopher didn't finish.

To be more precise, he didn't get the chance to.

A bright, red, dribbly tongue a couple of inches wide slithered up his face, dousing him in viscous saliva, That some of it got in his eyes was the final straw. The blond's hands moved to Veemon's shoulders; he was right about to push the dragon off his chest, raise his voice and castigate the goddamn digimon for _licking_ him, when he heard him laugh.

But it wasn't the Chosen's laughter that stopped him.

Neither was it his glistening eyes, watery enough to leave the impression they were on the verge of leaking tears.

What silenced Christopher, what withered the frustration stiffening his palms, were the satisfied words reaching his ears.

"Thank you!"

Veemon's wagging tail attested to his glee. "Thank you!" The Chosen's eyes shifted down, noticing the flaccid hands below his shoulders. Misconstruing Chris's original intent, he thrust his arms behind Chris and putting all his strength into the tightest hug he could give, his mind free from the worries of crushing him as he tenderly rubbed his white muzzle on the human's cheek. "**Really**, Chris, thanks for letting me go. I won't forget this."

"V-V,Vee," the human stuttered, his eyes twitching, indecisive on whether he should correct the Digimon of Miracles or yield to the delusion of his reassessment and turn into truth what had been first a misunderstanding. Or, judging by Ichijouji's timid expression, a lie. "Why—w, why don't you, go on ahead and—Christopher smiled at Veemon, yet his eyes were fixed on the Tactician—"we'll catch up to you." Gritting his teeth. "_Okay_?"

"Gotcha!" chirped Veemon, sprinting to the steel gates.

The blue dragon would never see Christopher's beaming face bend over, transforming into a frightening grimace. He wouldn't even hear the scream. "WHAT THE HELL!"

"Uhm," Ken lingered, "I was going to tell you but—"

He snarled. "I REFUSE to do anymore babysitting! I can't be burdened by this; I'm already swamped by **MY **problems!"

Ken's retaliation was instant. "Christopher." His face held no signs of agitation. Zero emotional affect. The Digimon Tactician was now employing politics and from the impassive face alone the blond could tell he intended to reason with him.

What could possibly lead Chris to accede? Veemon was not only going to be a burden, an additional responsibility to weigh down his shoulders. Veemon was also going to be an agent of change—was it not Christopher that changed the history of this universe? That saved his life and befriended him?

Setting another wild card loose in the Real World was bound to have an exponential impact on the state of the world. Adhering to the best interests of the balance of power, Christopher swore to reject every single rationalization the Digimon Tactician supplied.

"Since you've been hanging out with Veemon," Ken attacked, as anticipated. "You _should_ know how much he misses Daisuke. He'll do anything to see him again, and I think you already have an idea of what he'd do for that.

"Knowing him," Ken chuckled, trying to dispel the awkward tension flowing into one place like a violent storm rumbling, churning into a dreadful existence. "That idiot would invade a DSI base alone just to use the DDS."

Nothing he did pacified the furious glower. "The least you can do is bring him to the Digidestined. They can take Veemon off your hands and you can go on with—

Chris raised his arms. "You're wasting your damn time."

"D, don't be selfish!" the Tactician insisted. "I've nothing to do with this."

He folded his arms, leaning back on one leg as if to say, "I'm waiting…"

"It's for Veemon," Ken expounded. "For _his_ sake. _His _peace of mind. Do it for **him**, Christopher. Aren't you two friends?"

Why did this "friends" argument pester him so, persisting no matter how many times he ignored it? The more Ken justified his requests—his **direct instructions**—with this stupid, illogical, reasoning, the more he was infuriated! How dare he reduce the importance of balance to a level comparable to something so subjective and irrational as camaraderie?

"**SO WHAT?**" the blond argued. "Just because I'm his friend doesn't mean I'm effing **TIED** to his fingers!" He raised his hand for good measure, wiggling the five digits. "Veemon can do whatever he wants after I leave!" He eyed the Digimon of Kindness approaching them from behind. "Why should I even care what he does next?" he demanded, yelling at the Tactician. "Unlike you and that _bug_, I'm not even Veemon's partner!"

Ken Ichijouji bit his tongue, swallowing whatever he prepared for rebuttal. Christopher's logic was rock-solid, impregnable to rational argument. The Tactician was wrong to even imply Veemon's feelings, Veemon's welfare, superseded Chris's priorities. His interests at large.

Chris wanted Ken to see the reality he had nothing to gain from letting Veemon accompany him. Studying the Chosen Child's frown corroborated his perception of this truth.

Wormmon, however, appealed to something else entirely. "Not your partner?" the words were reiterated, its speaker insulted by the derisive nickname the blond called him yet apparently _more disgusted_ at the way Chris detached himself from the blue dragon. From Wormmon's best friend. The green digimon settled on Ken's shoulder after crawling up his back and delivered the angriest glare his cerulean eyes could give. "Not your partner!

"Everything about you two **PROVES** otherwise!"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Your teamwork!" Wormmon snapped. "The way you two just click! Are you so dense you never noticed how close the two of you are?"

"'Close'?" he scoffed. "Are you crazy? I've only known Veemon for one week—

"But he's so affectionate towards you!"

"Psshhh. That's just how he is. You know how childish he is."

"Veemon pouncedon you." Ken Ichijouji shook his head, intervening on his partner's behalf. "He _licked_ you. I would've agreed with everything you're saying if he didn't do any of that."

An eyebrow was cocked. "That's completely asini—

"_Christopher_," the Tactician stressed his name."Veemon only does that to those he feels **extremely**close to. And honestly, I've only seen him do that to one other person." Ken paused, as if permitting the blond's thoughts to settle, landing on the answer he expected.

"Daisuke."

Christopher Van Numen shut his eyes, giving his head a violent shake. "No," he asserted, repeating the negative syllable the way a parent would correct a child. "No, you've got it wrong. No. I—I don't belong here." Goldenrod eyes peered at the purple transceiver clipped on a belt, right next to a black whip. "I don't have a digivice or, o-or those… other digimental… stuff you guys got. I'm not—I'm **NOT** obligated to Vee! I told you already, we're obviously not part—

"You're not partners the way Ken and I are," rejoined the Digimon of Kindness. "Daisuke and Veemon, me and Ken… we're meant to be. We met—we got together—**for a reason**."

When Chris heard those three words, when he realized Wormmon implied fate was involved in every partnership between the Chosen Child and their digimon, the terrifying scowl that resulted did not go unnoticed. Christopher's countenance darkened, warping into a terrifying expression. One that reflected nothing but disgust—antipathy. As if he despised—he rebuked—he **condemned** the very notion of predestination.

"But Christopher, you're different. Nobody brought you here. I don't even know _how_ you entered the Digital World—you won't tell us!"

"Well I'm not supposed to be here in the first place—

"Yet here you are!" Wormmon beamed. "Since you arrived, nothing but good things happened to us."

"Good things?"

Wormmon outlined the consequences of the First Contact. "Veemon returned to the Great Forest alive," he enumerated. "The Digital Monsters still controls the area. We acquired strategic technology. Even better, we might get to see the Real World soon!"

An enthused hum warbled out the caterpillar's purple mandible. "Plus, I've never seen Veemon **SO happy** since Daisuke left him here." Eyes as blue as Sally's gazed at him, suppressing his ability to counter. "And it's all thanks to **you**!"

Ken Ichijouji struck him down with the final blow. "Christopher, you and Veemon aren't partners by destiny. You're partners _by circumstance_!"

"Partners?" Chris babbled, confounded. "By, by **circumstance**?"

When the words left his mouth, he blocked out everything he heard. He didn't hear Wormmon explain how his arrival in the Digital World, and its _very timing_, was short of miraculous. His ears failed to acknowledge the immense luck either Chosen attributed to his appearance. Words describing how what should've been one of the greatest tragedies for the Chosen turned into their greatest fortune merely flew in one ear and out the other…

…For Christopher clenched his fists in fury, concluding the two were desperate for his approval, entreating to the point they would never understand what it meant to preserve the balance of power. To minimize his influence.

In an act of utter disrespect, shamelessly trampling on the hospitality of his hosts, Christopher Van Numen swiveled without prior notice.

"Chris?"

"I've **had** it," he growled.

They watched him walk away. "W-wait—what about—

"I don't give a damn what you say!" Christopher coerced, letting his irked voice, brimming with rage and power, silence the two. "Now let's **go.**"

* * *

Ken and Wormmon were quiet, like their tongues had been ripped from their mouths and crushed beyond reattachment. They plodded behind Christopher, their downcast expressions unseen to the blond leading them, commanding them all with his grasp of power. Rather than wearing faces of rage, seething with the affronted heat borne from being treated like they were nothing but worms, but **worthless** **insects** before the blond, they clothed themselves in melancholy. In disappointment.

"What," Ichijouji bemoaned, "what am I—how'll I break it to Veemon now?"

Wormmon cuddled up against the Tactician's cheeks, rubbing his squishy head on his human half's face. "It's okay," he consoled the Chosen Child. "We tried."

Even if his words had been reflected back on him like a mirror, neither would they console the green caterpillar. The Digimon of Miracles looked forward to going with Christopher, too agog for the opportunity of seeking out his partner to even think he'd been lied to. Considering Ken's descriptions of his behavior, of Veemon's effusive treatment of the blond, the discovery of the bitter truth would upset him far more than merely suffering the divergence of his ideals and the reality of the world.

Both Ken Ichijouji and his digital half discerned Veemon's form by the steel gates: a wall of grey with a small splash of blue. As they approached, the images magnifying in clarity, the two Chosen of Kindness noticed Commandramon stood beside him, waiting. Watching Daisuke's surrogate brother swing his arm to and fro in frantic waves, no doubt eager to see the Real World.

The Digimon Tactician hissed, unhappy with his failure. The pathos of his disappointment, of the thought of informing Veemon the decision was null and void, of saying he was disallowed from joining Chris's trip to the Real World, of admitting he fed the blue dragon with a fat lie.

_Just look at that grin_, Ken thought, looking at the sheer jubilation keeping his mouth wide open in a rictus that would disarm anyone—anyone aside from the blond sauntering before him.

"Took you long enough!" the dragon shouted, the distance depreciating his clamor to nothing but a faint yell. "What'd you do," he chirped, causing Commandramon to slap his own face, "throw a farewell party?"

The gleeful chuckle that followed evoked a chilling wave of sadness in the Child of Kindness. How was he going to break the bad news? He looked to Wormmon for an answer, only to find a perfect reflection of his perplexity, of his conundrum. Neither of them wanted to hurt him, to damage his innocence further, to wipe the grin off his cute face.

So entrenched were the two in consternation, in hesitation, and in rumination they did not notice Christopher Van Numen had stopped. Ken bumped into Chris's back, causing him to bounce from recoil as if he walked into a concrete wall. "Oof!" Wormmon almost fell from his shoulders.

"Hey!" Ken reacted, lashing out at the blond as if he didn't have the power to slaughter the entire compound whenever he desired. "You _could_ at least be decent enough to—

He was interrupted by a sentence that broke down every particle of dismay flowing within him. "You don't need to worry anymore."

Neither Ken nor Wormmon could believe what he just said. They looked at each other, silently trying to gauge through each other's eyes if the words had truly been heard. "W-what?" they said in unison, seeking confirmation.

Christopher's back rose and slumped, heaving the sigh one made whenever one was about to make what was certainly a regrettable decision. "Veemon can go," he announced, turning to face Ken. Goldenrod peered into purple. "I'll take care of him."

Five tense seconds passed before Ken heard his digital half ask, "What changed your mind?"

"Honestly," The blond's head rotated in the gates' direction, his eyes trained on Veemon for a moment. "I don't know. I just"—in this same instant, Ken thought he saw a small smile form on Chris's face, one so fleeting it vanished when he blinked.—"I just want him with me, I guess…"

Ken gazed at Wormmon, hoping to see some sort of sign that verified what he saw, only to note the caterpillar was concentrated on his explanation, leaving Ken to wonder if this subtle display of joy was but a figment of his imagination.

"Can I ask you one more thing?" the Digimon of Kindness tendered.

Christopher's silence affirmed the permission.

"When Veemon finds out about Daisuke, **please** stay beside him."

"Finds out what?"

"We never told Veemon," Ken narrated, taking over for his digimon when it was clear Wormmon couldn't say it without a forlorn aura pervading his words and body. "His partner, Daisuke Motomiya, **disappeared** exactly a month before the war began." He added sheepishly, "I, actually, wanted you to help him find his partner when you're done, with your business."

"Heeeeeeeyyyy!" the dragon's childish voice reached their ears. "What're you all doing over there? LET'S GOOOOO!"

Christopher shook his head, its visage resembling someone suppressing the urge to smile and laugh. "As much as I can," he retorted, the statement carried by a discernible conviction. Then he turned towards the Chosen, his strides increasing in speed and length. "We're coming," he yelled, the blond's voice a thunderclap that drove Wormmon to bury his head on Ken's flowing cape, the caterpillar's sensitive hearing unable to endure it. "BE PATIENT!"

"OH COME OOOOOOOOONNNNN! I've waited three years alreaeadyyyyy…"

A chuckle. "Then you can wait a few more minutes!"

"EEEEHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Ken couldn't help but grin at their exchange. While he was glad to see the digital half of his best friend revert to a childish buoyancy he had never seen for so long, relieved to know he didn't have to face Veemon's disappointment, leaving the dragon in good hands, by bearing witness to the way he and Chris interacted the Digimon Tactician finally understood.

Understood the reasons behind Christopher's choice.

Just by watching the blond enigma let the blue dragon take his hand and—like a jaded cynic rediscovering the brightness of life—an adult regressing into a young boy—drag him towards the forest beyond despite the rather playful resistance he put up.

Although Chris had truly meant every word, ready and willing to leave the Chosen behind without a care for the ramifications, Ken Ichijouji surmised the about-face resulted not from pity, not from philanthropic charity, but from loneliness. From a grief Christopher was desperate to forget.

The way the man verbalized his decision and the smile Ken thought he saw were the only images his memory kept returning to, the lone drivers of his illogical conjecture, naturally influenced by the Crest of Kindness he represented.

Had he possessed the ability to read minds, or as in the case of most digimon, the ability to sense emotions, the Chosen Child couldn't have been more accurate.

Commandramon led the group of four through the Great Forest, alert and weapons ready. A couple of Bakemon, ghost-like servants of the Dark digimon defecting to Ken's side, escorted them under the dinosaur's orders—fresh recruits from the Fortress, eager to prove themselves worthy.

The Spire of Courage loomed above the Great Forest, visible past the shade of leaves hundreds of feet in the air, the trees from which they hung growing shorter and shorter as the ground inclined in the direction of the mountain.

As soon as the party crossed the deep, torrential river upstream where it was merely a trickling stream, Wormmon bounced from Ken's shoulder, accosting the blue dragon riding on Christopher's back.

Since Veemon had somehow settled into a comfortable position in spite of the white staff strapped to the man's back, his feet snug in Chris's pockets without displacing the hands already resting within them, he was obviously annoyed by the caterpillar's intrusion.

The Digimon Tactician watched his partner goad the dragon down, picking up the pace to stroll ahead of the two men.

Without the monsters riding on them—Wormmon on Ken's shoulders and Veemon on Chris' back—they were both a sight to behold.

Ken sauntered forward, draped in a pair of pants and long-sleeved garments adhering to the theme of blue and white. A purple cape flowing behind him accentuated his regal yet intimidating costume. Christopher's cerulean coat exuded this same ambiance, trailing behind the blond and, unzipped, barely concealing the ebon character of his vest and trousers.

Their weapons were as imposing as their users. Thick gauntlets ran along the Tactician's wrists, their Chrome Digizoid make ensuring impressive durability, adding to his close-combat defensive ability the spooled whip hanging neatly on his waist couldn't sufficiently provide.

In contrast, Christopher walked with anonymity in mind. The bracer worn on his forearm was a mere fourth of the thickness of Ken's, yet it was invulnerable to anything it obstructed, housing a computer Koushirou would envy, possessing an impossible density that would surely make it a frightening weapon to use in close combat. His silver gun seemed more like a child's toy, a simulation, the sci-fi geek's perfect replica of a futuristic blaster, concealing its ability to destroy anything it struck.

The staff was the only thing out of place—Ken would never understand why the blond would carry it with him wherever he went, considering he never used it during the Midnight Assault.

When they neared the dilapidated television, Ken's indigo eyes fluttered, as did his hands when they shot into the pockets lining his suit and robes. Feeling a solid, circular object in his fingers, the Digimon Tactician sprinted ahead, leaving Chris in the company of the two silent Bakemon. "Veemon!"

Pools of bright red and a smile greeted the Chosen Child. "Hmm?"

"Almost forgot to give you something," Ken said, walking on par with the dragon's pace. "Hold out your arm."

Trusting the Child of Kindness wholly, he did as he was told. Ken seized the arm and extricated the item from his clothes: a small, black spiral. Veemon watched him snap it in two and brought both halves towards his humerus. Curious, he questioned, "What's tha—

Fright took over. Veemon retracted his arm as soon as he recognized the heinous accessory. "Ken!" he exclaimed, eyes glancing up at the man with shock and confusion. "Isn't that a Dark Spiral?"

"Not exactly," replied the Tactician's undertone.

"But it looks just **like** one!" He shuffled away from the Child of Kindness when he approached Veemon with the split halves. "Don't put it on me!"

His reaction did not surprise Ken. The Dark Spirals were once instruments used to enslave digimon en masse, stripping away all reasoning and emotions, leaving an empty shell that would follow any order, no matter how asinine. It did not help Ken's case he was the last known user of such abominations.

"It _may_ look like one, Veemon," Ken soothed, "but it isn't. You'll need it to blend in."

He was incredulous. "Blend in? Why would I do that?"

"Out in the open—

"I'll devolve to Chibimon, remember?" He cocked his head at the plodding Chris, taking note the capaciousness of his coat. "Look, Ken, I can just hide in Christopher's—

"It doesn't matter! Think of it as insurance."

"Insurance? For what?"

"For the event someone sees you!"

"So? Digimon _live_ in the Real World now. I reeaaaallly don't think me being there's gonna be a big deal—

"_Veemon_," muttered Wormmon, using the same tone his human half had used on Christopher thirty minutes earlier. "Listen to him."

Hoping the blue dragon gave him his full attention now, "Obviously you've some reservations on wearing this spiral, but I **promise** you, Veemon, you'll need it."

Scratching his snout, "Uhhhm, I don't know…"

"Trust me," Ken reasoned. "You have absolutely **no idea** how much the world changed after Daisuke left you here."

"Oh really?" A sarcastic tone.

"_Really_. You'll just have to see it to believe it."

"Alright," Veemon groaned, realizing Ken was far from unrelenting. "Alright." He tendered his blue arm. "Go put the darn thing on…"

The Digimon of Miracles grumbled incoherently when he felt the spiral's halves touch his humerus and snap in place, their surface so smooth it's as if they have never been split.

Ken reprimanded him while ensuring the dark spiral was secured. "Don't be so blue, Veemon." If it wasn't for the seriousness in his voice, he was certain the Chosen would've called him out for the pun. "You're going to thank me for it later."

"Weee'll see…'

A pair of hands patted his shoulders. "Now don't forget, the Digidestined's at Mt. Fuji. You know where to go, do you?"

He nodded. "Wormmon told me about the lodge."

Having caught up to the three, Christopher Van Numen chose this inopportune time to speak. "Mt. Fuji?" the reiteration was verbalized. Ken did not need to look at Chris to know his face was dressed in a puzzled look

Neither did Veemon. "Don't worry, Chris," he bubbled. "I'm a local. I know where to go."

He crossed his arms. "You better."

The Tactician gazed at him and smirked. "All twelve of us have a special connection to that place," he informed the blond. "Believe me, Veemon **definitely** knows." _Especially when we used to go there every year._

They stopped at the television. "What now?" Chris asked, goldenrod eyes staring at it in wonder, like he was clueless to its functions.

"You two, stay in front of the digiport." While Chris and Veemon positioned themselves, Ken turned to Commandramon, ignoring the sensation of Wormmon's claws moving up his cape. "Commandramon, the black box, if you please."

It took only five minutes for the military dinosaur to set up. The black box was set on top of the television, the two machines connected to each other through multiple wires. As soon as Commandramon returned to his side, Ken Ichijouji drew a white transceiver.

It was so small it was an exact fit in his palm. The handgrips were a lustrous purple, complementing the nobility of his garments. "You two ready?"

"Yup, yup!" Veemon chanted ardently, while Christopher merely sent an approving nod.

Through the push of a button, the television sprung to life, its monitor taking on a white glow despite the fact no electricity flowed into the delicate machinery within. The Digital Gate revealed itself, a dazzling azure light rendering invisible the cracks on the monitor.

Ken, Wormmon, Commandramon, and their Bakemon escorts observed Christopher and Veemon shrink in size, their contracting forms vanishing into the television. Loud whirring emanated from the black box, producing a dark cloud that engulfed the pair in darkness.

Seconds passed.

Both the television and the black box died, the former falling into a state of dilapidation as if incapable of producing light of the same quality and intensity as it did minutes ago. _Surely by now Chris and Veemon arrived in the Real World_, Ken thought.

He raised his head and gazed up at the afternoon sky, his purple eyes focusing on the distant peak of the Spire of Courage, as if praying to the gods that granted Veemon the power of miracles—of extraordinary luck.

"You okay, Ken?" Wormmon tugged at his pants.

The Chosen Child of Kindness bent down and snatched his digital half from the ground, cradling the caterpillar in his arms. "Do you think, do you think this will lead to the future we imagined? The future we're fighting for?"

Wormmon only had words of encouragement. He too, Ken knew, feared the possible consequences of releasing Christopher into the Real World. "I hope so."

"Me, too," murmured Ken, marveling the sun's beauty.

Optimistic of the future, neither Ken Ichijouji nor Wormmon realized the mistake they have made that afternoon, for with Christopher and Veemon's departure to the Real World the gears of tragedy began their slow, ominous turns.

A catastrophe worse than the destruction of Primary Village awaited the Chosen Children, triggered by none other than the blond the Tactician unleashed. No amount of wishful thinking possessed the power to halt what was set in motion. Thus despair stood at the end of the path, welcoming the Twelve with open arms.

Was this truly the work of circumstance?

Or was it still the work of destiny?

.

.

.

_Brought together by sheer coincidence, Christopher and Veemon venture out into the Real World, pursuing their own goals. A determined Christopher strongly believes his objective lies in the DSI's hands. Veemon aims to find his lost partner, not knowing the ominous notice Ken Ichijouji gave Chris. What awaits them in the Real World? What happened to Daisuke Motomiya?_

_Coming up next on _The Interloper_, the second story arc, "Priorities"!_

* * *

**Author's Notes (continued):**

[5] The _Green Aurora_ is a spaceplane Chris uses primarily for travel. Smaller than a frigate-class starship in _Mass Effect _terms, but exponentially faster and more powerful, capable of breaking multiple laws of physics. However, Christopher came to the Digital World without it because of events relating to the universe he was in prior to his arrival in the world of _Digimon Adventure_, the universe of _Star Ocean 3_, as you will discover in later chapters.

Naturally, the Green Aurora will never appear in _The Interloper_. Many of Christopher's friends will not appear in the storyline aside from flashbacks… aside from the photographs in his camera.

[6] As I use the terms "Digidestined" and "Chosen Children", to help the reader differentiate between the two, the _Chosen Children_ refer to the humans specifically selected for a purpose, i.e. saving the Digital World when it was in trouble. Of these, the Twelve is the most prominent subset, comprised of the characters all _Adventure _and _Zero Two _fans know and love.

The _Digidestined_, on the other hand, is a **political group** based in the Real World, composed of Chosen Children and their supporters, whether they had partner digimon of their own or not. The _Digital Monsters_ is also the faction controlled by Ken Ichijouji, simply put, and also represents the self-conscious artificial intelligences that dominate the Digimon franchise.

[7] 12 May 2010 EDIT: Added a small sentence near the ending where Ken also hands Chris a wallet containing money. ^^

[8] Truncated responses to reviews will be placed here.

**6 Nov 2011 EDIT**: This chapter has been mostly rewritten to improve writing quality and ensure continuity on future chapters. I have been rereading my story to date and noticed this chapter and the one you're about to read have the poorest quality of writing. I've read them word for word and noticed my style _devolved _(heaven forbid!) into a "tell" style of narration, which I despise given that I glorify descriptive writing and emotive paragraphs.

Worse, the ninth chapter is a crucial point in the beginning as Christopher's reasons for staying in the _Adventure_ universe are cemented, as are Veemon's reasons for traveling with him. Moreover, Chris and Veemon's departure from the Digital World and into Earth symbolizes a departure from the story as a "chance encounter" between an OC and a canon character.

I am aware people in the fanfiction community generally frown upon such premises because of the rather high probability the OC becomes a Sue character _or_ an author's self-fulfillment. This is probably why this story does not attract a considerable amount of readers. If you happen to be one of those people and I have somehow maintained your interest long enough for you to have reached this chapter, then I congratulate you for your perseverance.

The ninth chapter, both the story and my notes, ends with a warning: the plot will become more intense from here on out. I know I said this back in _First Contact_ (CH1). I meant every word of it as much as I did not mean for the first story arc to be so long.

Although chapter ten is almost completely focused on Christopher and Veemon, it also introduces Hikari, Taichi, and their digimon as main protagonists, not to mention establishes the political-social context the story itself operates with.


	10. Culture Shock

**Author's notes:**

[1] Originally, the word count was a mere 16,250. This measure no longer applies in the rewritten CH10—I have added so many new scenes and expanded the current ones to the point that the chapter length is extremely long (over 30K!).

Out of kindness I will post chapter breaks intended on giving the reader some respite. I know I promised since my 13th chapter's first posting that I wouldn't do this again, but I didn't want to mess up my chapter numbering by splitting the rewritten CH10 into multiple parts.

[2] This chapter is concentrated disproportionately on Christopher and Veemon, even though Taichi and Hikari are finally introduced as main protagonists.

This focus stems from my objectives: to plunge the reader into the socio-political environment envisioned by this deconstruction of the _Zero Two_ epilogue and to plant the seeds for the overall storyline. Remember, chapters one through nine comprised **the introduction**. The real story begins here.

And for these reasons, Veemon is essentially a mirror for the readers. I actually feel bad putting him through all the crap that happens in this chapter, but it had to be done. By the time you finish reading, I hope you can empathize with him. I would be very surprised if you don't finish this chapter without feeling the slightest bit of anger or sadness.

[3] Hope you enjoy. Reviews are **highly **encouraged. If you have any criticisms regarding writing style or better, CHARACTER PORTRAYALS, please do not hesitate to post 'em! I can handle criticism.

* * *

Though many would associate oversleeping with the most irresponsible of people, in reality, there was nothing seriously wrong with the act. Done in moderation, sleeping in would allow rest, keep the heart healthy, rejuvenate body and spirit, bolster one's memory, and facilitate preparation for any hard work.

Any person would have the ability, the capacity, to meet the rush of impending stress head-on.

Like most things in life, oversleeping had its advantages, despite the tendency for others to regard it with derision.

These reasons would most likely explain why a young lady, barely into her 20's, was still asleep in her room, clad in a white nightgown. A digital clock on her bedside read a few minutes past noon, yet in defiance of what was clearly a time for activity, a time for a hearty lunch, a break in the day, the woman snoozed comfortably on a soft, queen-sized bed, wrapped within a comforter.

Her slender arms, boasting the allure of youth, hugged a long-sleeved turquoise shirt, as if it was the dearest treasure the world could offer her, as if she was a little girl not even past preadolescence. Two wide, yellow stripes descended its sides, made visible only by the nightlight in the corner.

Not a bead of sweat was present on the young lady's forehead, her body comfortable with the temperature maintained by a centralized air-conditioning system. A door a few meters from the bed, a steel panel disguised as a flimsy, wooden screen, separated the lady from the rest of the world. It was shut tight, hidden subtly by a short walkway leading from her cozy room.

Hikari Yagami moaned in her sleep, embracing the shirt in her arms. A small pillow was beneath her hazel-strewn head, intending to diminish the discomfort of lying flat on the mattress, to foster a good night's sleep for the Child of Hope.

But when she moaned once more, the absence of serenity was a clear sign the pillow failed its duty. Wisps of a glamorous brown, as long as her shoulders, were scattered across Hikari's face when she turned to the side.

Her eyelids contracted, rendering visible signs of increasing stress. She twisted in her bed again, the magnified discomfort a direct attack against Hikari's decision to sleep in. Sweat began forming on her cheeks, one cascading drop after another, saturating her beautiful visage with moisture that should not even exist at the cool 20° C temperature.

Hikari's lips were pursed, delivering a third groan. A moan of agony. Of torment.

Of utter shock.

Trapped in what must have been an endless nightmare, a phantasm so terrible the pleasures of sleep were beyond all reach, Hikari Yagami bit her blanket and gnashed, wrestling with the shirt in her arms. "I," her mouth whispered, the utterance so soft it was virtually inaudible. "I, can't go on anymore…"

Her shut eyes flinched. Hands and body twitched, with the evident creases of psychological torture manifesting on the frown attached to her face, on the way she squeezed the shirt, threatening to tear its soft, delicate fabric, on the way she curled and twirled in what should have been a comfortable nest of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals, on the names flooding her throat. "T-Takeru…" Hikari's unconscious form nuzzled the turquoise shirt so affectionately it could've substituted for her beloved.

"Daisuke." One twitch of her arm elicited the faint jingle of a bracelet. A golden chain of intricate make, given to her by the Child of Miracles himself. By her best friend.

The younger Yagami's mouth flared in pain. A silent scream that did no justice to the horrors she bore witness to in her mind's eye. Her body convulsed.

Once.

Twice.

"T," she struggled to speak, to call for help, to yearn for someone who had always been by her side since day one, whenever she faced an insurmountable obstacle in her path. "T-Taichi…"

Her brother.

The Child of Courage.

Venerated leader of the Chosen Children.

Commander of the Digidestined.

Merely speaking his name brought comfort to the lady. A comfort that proved to be short-lived, for the unfathomable horrors tormenting her much-needed sleep resumed their attack, causing violent spasms to ripple across Hikari's body, forcing her to grip the turquoise shirt and pull on it so strongly anyone would've been surprised to discover its uncanny ability to survive the abuse. "No…"

Demonic whispers encroached her ears—murmurs of an ominous future spelling countless tragedies worse than what she had borne to date. "NOOOOO!"

The Child of Hope rose without warning, sitting up and clutching her heart, hearing its every beat like a drum's bass struck twice in every second that passed. Fear… _Confusion_… influenced the somber expression on her lips, trespassing into the acute angles of her brows.

Coquelicot eyes shook with trepidation. "Three days," the Chosen Child murmured. "That makes three days…"

Three days since this nightmare began, plaguing her peaceful sleep, depriving Taichi's sister of even a quick, ten-minute nap. Putting aside the disturbing, the nerve-wracking images being burned into her mind's eye, the memory of the nightmare was but surreal. A flurry of moving photographs, of short videos, drenched in voices of various emotions. Voices howling in anger. Weeping in agony. Screaming in pain.

The _mere attempt_ of bringing the visions to the grasp of her conscious brain induced headaches, conjuring a black wall impeding her progress, obstructing deep comprehension—profound understanding—of the nightmares and the dark future they portend. Unable to ruminate, Hikari Yagami could not decipher its ominous meanings.

However, after three straight days of enduring this mental torture, of failing at capturing the vision in its entirety and full authenticity, the Child of Light had begun to notice three photographs, no, _actual scenes_ permeated—overrode—anything and everything her mind could conceive from the vague recollection of her dreams, however surreal, however terrifying.

Hikari's human mind was perplexed on classifying—analyzing these immortal moments, for each of the three scenes burned into memory, seared into a permanent position in her mind, were but puzzles to her, the images they conveyed bordering on the impossible. The unreadable.

Taking place in a capacious cavern was the most baffling scene prevalent in her visions, even when it was the vision her mind would recall most often, and in perfect clarity, as if Hikari herself had been present in the events depicted. A golden-haired man kneeled in the corner, behind a mound of earth that struck the chords of nostalgia in Hikari like a guitar player taking out the beloved instrument after a long hiatus.

What the man wore was cloaked in darkness, save for a gold medallion suspended beneath his neck, its form vibrant and colorful with respect to the gloomy hues pervading the cavern. "It's… it's all my fault," Hikari could hear him, his voice cracking in despair, exuding a painful agony. She thought he was on the verge of welcoming suicide.

"It's all my fault," he wept, whispering those four words in rapid succession. "It's all my fault." The Child of Light glided towards him, the person's heart and mind broken down as if he had lost everything he held dear, as if he had become a shell of his former self, his pathetic state far beyond salvation.

The four syllables reached her ears once again. "It's all my fault." Hikari noticed the golden-haired stranger cradling something in his arms, watching his tears fall upon the object he clasped like a precious object. Like a treasure worth his life. An item so dear its loss would be nothing but cruel and devastating.

When she first visualized this image, pressing forward to see what exactly the man embraced as if it was his most cherished possession, driven by curiosity, Hikari Yagami's mind retreated to the comforts of reality the instant her coquelicot eyes fell on a particular shade of blue. Horror took root in her heart when she recognized the form of an azure dragon.

The form of Daisuke's digimon partner.

Limp, devoid of the cheer his muzzle often projected.

Catatonia and death glazed the creature's scarlet eyes.

"Wake up," she could hear the man beg. "C'mon." It was so pitiful and sad Hikari's eyes would water no matter how often she told herself this scene was a figment of her imagination, a mere display of the pictures corrupting her sleep. "Wake up."

Stopping the recollection of the memory would never work for the Chosen Child. She had long discovered the blond's groveling words continued to haunt her, following her to the emptiness of silence and darkness. "Don't die on me."

A pathetic whimper escaped his throat. "Not you too!" He burrowed his face on the dragon and nuzzled the lifeless body he cradled, as if his tears, as if his misery, could rectify the tragedy. "_Please!_" The blond's embrace tightened, the next word he spoke replete with a shattered spirit, with dejection so strong not even Hikari could remain hopeful in its wake. "Veemon…"

Hearing the blond speak his name and cradle the familiar form of the Digimon of Miracles threw Hikari Yagami off her radar the first time she recalled this, for it was common knowledge among the Chosen Children that her best friend was dead.

That Daisuke Motomiya was dead.

Though ordained by destiny, partnerships were never truly as lopsided as it usually seemed in first glance. Those who could never understand what it was like to have a digimon partner often tagged the human side of the bond as a mere battery to enable evolution, a source of life leeched on by otherworldly parasites. Rumors describing these relations as reducing lifespan or causing incurable diseases were aplenty, spread by tabloids and "eyewitnesses" even when none of them were true.

Both parties, both man and monster, were tied to each other. The distance between them didn't matter, whether it was relational or physical. One seemed to know where the other was by instinct alone. Similar to a sixth sense. This powerful connection made possible the sensing of each other's emotions, but only between the closest of partners.

While humans were blessed with a lifelong companion who could be counted on for protection, unwavering support, and advice, the digital half of the partnership gained the ability to evolve beyond the first (Baby) and second (Child) stages of their physical forms, as well as the increased tenacity needed to survive challenging hardships.

But like everything in life, the partnership had a price attached to it.

During the turbulent years of the late 2000's, when society began rejecting the idyllic notions of coexistence with another sentient race, before the onset of the war that has now raged for two years running, Hikari Yagami taught the impact of death to those new to the partnership. It was a lesson no longer given to humankind, for the Digital Suppression Initiative propagated one lie after another to further its own goals and drive further the wedge between men and monsters.

Even if it had been years since she stood before a group and taught, the Chosen Child recalled her lectures all too easily, like it was second nature to her. "When the human partner dies," were her words, still succinct and clear to her nonhuman audience, "So does the digimon." Hushes and terrified whispers often succeeded this statement, with tamers gazing longingly into the eyes of their partners, the former imagining it could never happen, the latter believing they would never let such a thing come to pass.

"Depending on the strength of your bonds, either instant deletion or irremediable coma would occur," Hikari would say. "There are absolutely no exceptions to date."

"But Hikari," someone in the audience would **always** say, a guaranteed question in every lecture involving this difficult fact of life. "What happens to us when _they_ die?"

The younger Yagami would never recall the uniform response she gave to this inquiry, for at this point, her thoughts had returned to the puzzle tendered by the unnerving display of gloom and the blue dragon whose still form was burned into memory.

Daisuke vanished from the face of the earth two years ago. A month before the DSI declared war on the Digital World and invaded the "new frontier" with the intent to subjugate it and everything that lived within.

His existence had been wiped clean, as if the heavens had decided him unworthy of life. Not even the impeccable tracking modules embedded in the D3's programming could locate the blue digivice assigned to the Child of Miracles.

The image of the catatonic dragon clawed at her. How could that Veemon be the same one partnered to Daisuke? How could he be the very digimon Daisuke loved like a little brother? Why was her gut instinct, her intuition, so **adamant** in insisting this creature was _his _partner?

She tried to repress the hopes in her bosom with the facts. _Daisuke's dead_. Hikari would resort to repeating her own lessons to herself. _When the human partner dies…_ Lessons established on irrefutable facts uncovered by Koushirou Izumi. _So does the digimon._ Exploited by the Digital Suppression Initiative.

_There are absolutely no exceptions to date_.

How could she doubt her own words? How could she start believing Daisuke was somewhere out there, when he'd been gone for over two years?

Hikari Yagami gripped the turquoise shirt in her hands, the clothing Takeru Takaishi once wore in every excursion they had in the Digital World ten years ago. Was it because she missed her beloved? Or was it because she suffered so much from a tragedy so great Hikari would latch on to the _mere_ possibility of her best friend's life for relief's sake?

But these questions were merely the tip of the iceberg, for Hikari had yet to figure out the contents and meaning of the second scene relentlessly generated by a waking recollection of her ominous visions.

All she could remember of it was another blond, hunched next to the stone wall of another underground chamber, this one much wider than the first and with evidence of human life. In fact, it was a room Hikari vaguely found familiar, but failed to identify. Whenever she recalled this vision into memory, the man stooping next to the wall was always clad in a three-piece suit.

A set of garments embodying the traits of grace and elegance, imbuing its wearer with confidence in every action. Surely, it must have been expensive.

But whatever appeal the clothes had was no longer there, frayed by violence. Flimsy strands spread out from unsightly cuts and gashes strewn across the suit. As if it had been baptized by combat, judging from the blood leaking from wounds underneath, from the maroon stains discoloring its natural colors.

Surely, it was such a waste.

An amethyst dragon stood before the man, a triumphant smirk visible on its pallid snout as it crossed its furred arms. "Finished, already?" spoke the digimon, its emerald eyes brimming with an intimidating confidence. Arrogance, perhaps. "I was just getting started!" A three-toed foot descended on what looked like an iPod, crushing it until it was but fine dust.

The voice was unmistakably male. Despite spending days and days of her waking life in constant contact with otherworldly monsters, Hikari could not even identify this digimon's species. All she could note was his strong resemblance to the Digimon of Miracles.

A pair of sunglasses fell, causing a sharp _clatter_ to echo throughout the room when it struck the ground. The man in the suit clutched his arm, hand gripping the shoulder. It looked as if his entire right arm had been dislocated. "T-this," the second blond murmured, voice tingling with an unquenchable rage, "B, b-b, because of you, this…"

Hikari's spirit always cringed at the disturbing crack the moment the man managed to replace the bone in its socket, flinching from watching the adult suppress his own scream. The Chosen Child knew it was agonizing, but her lack of direct combat experience left her innocent to the pain others would have loved to inflict on her. All she could do before this sight was pray she would never have to go through something as terrible as dislocation or even a fracture.

Coquelicot eyes saw the gloved fists clench and tremble with a fury befitting of someone who lived on failure time and time again, feasting on disappointment, frustration, and regret day after day after day. "This wasn't supposed to happen," exasperation leaped from his tongue. "NONE OF IT!"

"Ehhh," the digimon sneered. He scratched his bushy head with hands as white as his own snout: a clear gesture of derision. "It can't be helped if your plans just suck!" Indignant laughter erupted from the creature, undiluted even before the human's imposing figure. It was a commendable feat, considering how much the man towered over him; on one pair of legs, the purple dragon stood at a mere two feet, right beneath the knees just like Hikari's own partner.

A chuckle. "Didn't you ever realize you're _always_ one step behind?"

"I'm sick and tired of playing your damn games." The blond in the suit whipped his fist into the wall, enraged by the insults. "I've waited two, **long**, years for this, and I refuse to let you waste **EVERYTHING** I've done!"

The digimon opened his mouth, pretending to yawn and fanning the wide maw. "All a bunch of bull from a sore loooooooser."

It was a response meant to provoke the man in the suit, to push him into a reckless decision, one he would surely regret as if the gap between their abilities were too vast to estimate.

A response that succeeded the moment the human bolted towards the digimon with the intent to kill blazing in his ultramarine pools. What looked like strings of glowing energy, emerald in hue, encircled his entire body at faster, faster, and faster speeds, somehow giving him the strength to approach the tiny creature at breakneck speeds beyond the known capabilities of the human body.

Like a battle between the frail David and the oncoming Goliath.

His tiny opponent grinned. "Oho! Using your trump card, huh?"

Except "David" was a tiny creature cocksure of his victory, and "Goliath" a full-grown man imbued with rage, his right hand sheathed in a plume of light, seemingly ready to explode at a moment's notice, aimed straight for the white mark on the purple dragon's forehead, shaped like an X as if telling him exactly where to strike…

Only to miss as the digimon sprung forward, rolling in the air multiple times. "You're not getting past me!" Hikari, through the lens of her memory, watched him use the momentum of his spins to whip his tail at his infuriated enemy. The lavender appendage stretched as if it was made of elastic rubber, veering for the human's neck.

The younger Yagami, no matter how many times she went over this scene, could never figure out the identity behind the man in the suit. Neither could she understand what was the light enveloping his hands. More hours were wasted on the questions this event supplied than the mysteries surrounding the most vivid scene of her nightmares.

And for good reasons.

One of them oscillated around the setting, the location. The cavern unnerved the Chosen Child. There was something ominous about the flattened ground. It was devoid of gravel, cool to the touch but free from the moist texture characteristic of subterranean tunnels formed by Mother Nature.

Hikari could easily imagine herself walking in this cavernous atrium, too lost in her recollection to pay the slightest attention to the real world. She noticed the marks of development on the very ground, the signs of life indicated by the five passages leading from the chamber. But the sense of familiarity was too strong, adding to the cold chill running up her back.

Four of the tunnels led to doors carved from maple, with icons emblazoned on each of the wooden panels, icons she would've been able to see easily if it wasn't for the dim lighting—a problem that was definitely sticking around considering her inability to magically brighten the surroundings with the mere power of her thoughts.

Truly, memories could be so limited.

The Child of Light was puzzled by what looked like the ruins of an outdated, _certainly_ obsolete desktop computer, scattered within an area between the four tunnels and the doors keeping them shut, its body crushed into pieces by what was probably a large hammer. And a _flaming_ one at that, considering the scorch marks present on most of the shards.

Her heart throbbed as her eyes passed over every piece, as if the poor machine, useless and impotent in the wake of the tablets and laptops of recent years, was related to her somehow, as if it had once been a part of her life.

Unable to muster the courage to investigate further, frightened by the recognition and its portent, Hikari turned to the human and digimon facing each other in combat, the purple dragon up in the air with his tail approaching the neck of the blond in the suit. Completely immobile, the two have been stopped in time (for this was merely a memory), allowing the younger Yagami to guide her consciousness towards the two.

Another mystery supplied by these nightmares was the lone human, or rather, his _identity_. His motives. Hikari mused on his words, chewing it, trying to squeeze as much information from it as she could. She had long conjectured the frequency of these nightmares meant the visions were grounded in reality.

She scrutinized the determination burning in those ultramarine eyes. She could almost imagine the man's teeth gnashing in a fiery rage, like his endurance had been completely exhausted, replaced with what she guessed was the desire to _delete_the creature defending the exit.

A desire that could be **easily** realized by the energy encasing the human's right arm, not to mention the strange lines orbiting his body, each resembling hundreds of perpetually lit fireflies lined up one after another. Not even the crimson vest the purple digimon wore could protect him from such an attack.

But **where** was the energy coming from? Just _what_ was permitting this person to fight a digimon and tilt the battle towards his favor? Hikari spared the knee-high dragon one more glance. Given the creature's small size, and apparent lack of ranged attacks, why did he have a smirk of confidence and excitement slathered all over his snout?

As she brought her consciousness towards the halted blond, Hikari could not help but acknowledge a vague sense of recognition. The sort of familiarity this location exuded. The closeness threatening to strangle the Chosen Child.

Hikari withdrew from the second scene, directing her attention to the third and the _last_ of the memories her mind could salvage from the multiple times she dredged her thoughts every time she woke up from those series of nightmares, made clammy by cold perspiration.

To her, it was the most frightening vision of all.

Not because she solved the mysteries it held.

Not because it involved people she recognized.

But because she **knew** the characters it depicted.

After all, there was absolutely no way Hikari Yagami could forget how her own brother looked like.

Neither could she forget the detestable tower of the Digital Suppression Initiative. A massive skyscraper—a column of concrete, glass, and steel housing the worst enemy the Chosen Children has ever faced, it pierced the skyline of the Tokyo metropolis, looming over its architectural brethren as if it was Japan's answer to the Burj Khalifa. Illuminated by the haze of smog blanketing one of the most technologically advanced cities in the Real World, the DSI's global headquarters was clearly visible at night, even from the Pacific Ocean.

The shadow of the DSI cast its form upon the International Medical Center, close to which the Child of Courage sprinted towards a family of three, a family Hikari was once introduced to but could not recall.

One of them was a child who couldn't be any older than ten. At most, twelve.

What scared her weren't the bloodstains soiling the chocolate cape wrapped around his body, but the frantic manner that permeated his every step. Monsters surrounded Taichi from all sides—reptilian beasts armed with the size of a small horse and a ferocity matching that of the dinosaurs and demons prowling the movie theaters in the worlds of fantasy.

Alone to fend for himself, Taichi Yagami fought his way towards the family of three with nothing but what was certainly a powerful machinegun, whose bullets struck every feral creature… collapsing harmlessly as it collided with the black leather that was its skin.

Hikari felt the cold, unfeeling hands of fear ascend her back, as the relief residing in Taichi's brown eyes withdrew, making room for unmistakable despair. Forcing herself to replay the memory, it took all of the Chosen Child's willpower to turn towards the sight mesmerizing her older brother.

A sight that would remain etched in her mind for days. A gruesome display that had snapped Hikari to reality more often than what she would've liked, inculcating a terror Vamdemon would have loved to see on her innocent face.

Her coquelicot eyes registered the hulking mass of metal lumbering towards the fleeing family from behind, lifting a massive blade that looked capable of utterly destroying even digimon of the Perfect level. A test she would rather decline.

"DUCK!" She heard her brother scream. Dread sated his voice, reflecting an irrational panic she never expected Taichi to even have. Listening to the hysterical tone in his next words unnerved Hikari far more than the crimson blots streaking his cloak and the blue, star-spangled shirt underneath. "ALL OF YOU!"

Since when was Taichi **ever afraid**? Gripped by fright so _tangible_ his nerves of steel and miraculous brilliance in strategy were both useless? Dashed to the ground like they were nothing more than unwanted junk?

Despite Taichi's warning, the headless suit of armor overwhelmed the family with its speed, swinging its katzbalger at the three, not even relenting when a hazel rabbit with unbreakable axes for hands suddenly obstructed its path, hoping to at least deflect the attack.

A digimon, and one Hikari knew was classified as a Perfect, no less: Andiramon.

The Child of Courage screamed in utmost horror when the weapon trampled the unexpected defense, hurling the gigantic rabbit away _and _slicing through its arms, cleaving the digimon in half. Unstoppable, the humongous sword continued on its deadly path.

Hikari's shocked mind always withdrew into its shell in this moment, barely capable of witnessing the carnage: the mutilated organs falling to the asphalt, the staggering volume of human blood still crimson with life, and worst of all, the faces of the three who were struck.

Faces in which unfathomable agony rippled. Faces wherein the fear of death bloomed, paling before the very notion of confronting what millennia of human philosophy struggled to answer: what happens after death?

The first time she drilled this scene into her coquelicot eyes, the Child of Light shrieked as wildly and as anxiously as her own brother, her shrill voice breaking into sobs the moment she returned to the warm embrace of reality, where her own mouth had been agape, bared open in a silent scream.

Where Tailmon was upon her with a look of worry on her cute muzzle.

Once she had forced herself to remember, once she decided to confront this slaughter and extract as much information from it as she could as she did with the two more prominent images of her nightmares, the screams faded away, as did the palpable terror gripping her heart. Yet Hikari still cringed in every replay of this butchery, no matter how many times she watched the family die, how many times she saw the glistening tears falling from the little girl, whose vision landed on a digimon with a shotgun and angel wings as ebon as night.

Even the teenager close to Taichi, a Digidestined Hikari knew he had been close to this past year or two, supplied a terrible view: a brutal reminder of the crippling impact of a digimon partner's death. When she blessed this other man with her eyesight, the moment Andiramon died, he clutched his heart, his body convulsing in a pain that seemed to permeate his body, flowing from the brain to the heart, from arms to legs, from top to bottom and the other way around.

Taichi struck the teen's face with the strongest punch he could muster in an attempt to bring him back. "SNAP OUT OF IT!" he was yelling, knocking away the muzzle of one of those hideous reptiles right before it could clamp down on his neck. The Child of Courage, though shaken, refused to let fear take root and opened fire on the beast's gaping maw. "THIS ISN'T THE TIME TO GRIEVE!"

That a black mist replaced what should've been a dead body, what should've been a cloud of dispersed pixels, was all the proof Hikari needed to confirm her darkest suspicions.

The scene always ended when the dark knight was upon her brother and his lone comrade, swinging its fifteen-foot sword like a child would with a stick, with a weightless weapon, devoid of power.

For the past three days, she woke up at that very moment, never blessed with the luxury of knowing if her brother survived or met a death so terrible not even Hikari would wish it on her worst enemy. Sitting up on her bed with her eyes glazed like someone on high, too busy ruminating over these horrendous nightmares to even care about the demands of the real world had proven itself a waste of time and mental energy.

Yet Hikari Yagami sat in her place. She would spend the next hour every morning, every afternoon, **trying** to make sense of the visions she had been seeing. Who was the blond in the cave, hugging a Veemon like the dragon was the most precious thing in his life? Who was the man in the suit, and why was he so _livid _at the purple, furred digimon?

Then there was the matter of her brother. What was he even DOING, running around Tokyo at night, clad in a cloak and armed with the very weapons donated to the Digidestined? What were those beasts he fought, and why were they so unnatural, so unnerving, their mere shape and form casting a spell of fright and undiluted terror on the Child of Light?

So obsessed was the younger Yagami with her fantastic visions sometimes she even wondered **why** she was having these dreams—these _nightmares_—in the first place.

There was something tugging at her head, reaching into the inner depths of her heart and soul and body, and nagging at it, steering the 21-year-old Hikari Yagami to the crux of the matter. The images in her head—the weeping tamer (or so she assumed), the enraged executive, and the beleaguered Chosen—swirled in her thoughts.

The Digidestined, no, the _Chosen Children_. The fate of the two worlds they guard. The master-slave relationship common across all digimon "partnerships" as modern human society has defined it to date.

All these visions were relevant somehow. However disjointed and unrelated they were at first glance, something was bugging Hikari Yagami to investigate and pore every ounce of her mental strength into figuring out the true meaning, into divining the events that connected them to each other. She was so sure they were on the brink of passing, of foretelling a grim future ahead.

During times like these, she would wish she was more astute about her visions.

Hikari would wish she was as talented as Taichi, whose brilliant, borderline perfect mind had an analytical ability so wonderful he would've excelled in any field, in any profession, backed by the immense courage, the unbreakable conviction, that defined him as a person.

If only she could borrow his insights!

But she knew, oh, she **knew**, Taichi would never listen to her, let alone heed her impossible warnings. The Child of Courage was a man tied to reality. As much as he was accepting of the existence of the multiverse, of the mind-boggling physics behind the nature of digimon, of humanity's ability to decode the mysteries of the Digital World, there was simply no way he would give weight to mere dreams. To visions.

_Now_ that she thought about it. Hasn't Taichi been acting suspicious lately? His absence from breakfast, a custom embraced by the Digidestined's core group—members of the Twelve's nuclear families, or at least, those who decided to live out the past few years in hiding underneath damp and cold subterranean tunnels—did not go without notice.

But Taichi proved secretive to his activities. Every time Hikari found an opportunity to speak with him, the expression on her brother's face was somber. Too serious to be bothered. Even more unwilling to reveal the gears coiling and twisting in his head. "It's 'official business', Hikari," he always supplied, refusing to let her in. "Don't worry about it."

Worst of all, this had been going on for the past two **weeks**.

Something was happening.

No, something **will** happen.

Once again, the image of her brother fighting for his life amidst demonic creatures resurfaced, filling her head with his screams of terror and every beat of his heart, infused with anxiety and regret.

With the desire to protect her own blood, with the aspiration of preventing those three visions from ever happening, Hikari Yagami snatched the iPhone sitting on top of a tan, fisherman's hat.

Fingers deftly moving on the screen, she pulled up the phone app and dialed one of the few numbers she bothered memorizing. _Brother… please be safe._

* * *

Christopher was at a loss for words when Ken initiated the transfer. From his experience, traveling from one world to another required a portal, one that had to be _walked_ through. To be crossed. Even so, travelers would not usually enter a whole new world the instant they took a step through that ripple in the air, through the break in reality. Depending on how close or distant their home world was to the next plane of reality, the next obstacle to navigate was a space, a shaft of darkness piercing the bursting walls of light and energy that undoubtedly separated one universe from another.

That was, after all, how the Space Between Worlds operated. That was how Christopher Van Numen wandered the multiverse.

Being one so familiar with the intricacies of entering one universe after another, it wouldn't have been surprising to see on Christopher's face a look of boredom, one that would certainly contrast the excited expression the Digimon of Miracles had on his muzzle.

The truth was, Christopher was **enchanted** by the transfer.

Veemon's curled lips articulated his glee, the much-awaited anticipation of visiting the Real World after three long and painful years glistening in his wide, crimson eyes. Chris' goldenrod pools were as dilated as the Chosen's, widened by wonder and amazement rather than enthusiasm, his mouth kept agape by sheer awe.

When the Digimon Tactician pointed his—what was it again?—digivice at the decrepit television set, no words could describe the shock Chris felt as he watched the ancient, _definitely_ obsolete machine spring into life and shine with such intensity, the blond had to squint.

At least it wasn't as bright as the portals _he _often traveled through.

At the exact moment light erupted from the television's opaque screen did he feel a force reach for his body and pull. As if thousands of strands of rope wrapped themselves around him and dragged him not towards the machine, but **into** it.

Surprise captured the blond when he attempted to resist the unnatural pull, only to discover that even _he_, a man who well-versed in travel between worlds, a person imbued with inhuman strength and power, could not force himself from whatever ensnared him and the blue dragon that remained beside him to this second.

That the Realm Scanner could easily sever the connection between the Tactician's purple transceiver and whatever orchestrated the transfer process passed through Christopher's mind more than once. The blond's goldenrod eyes were swathed in blue, even as the transfer began, even as lines of energy began churning around the two, replacing the forest, every string, every strand, as prismatic and as chaotic as the raw, fluid power swirling in the Space Between Worlds.

And it was possible.

Possible to hijack the connection.

Possible to cancel the process, even hack into the digivice coordinating the transfer.

But why bother?

With his curiosity satisfied, with the verdict in his favor, Chris deactivated the indestructible machine and relaxed, letting his gaze wander. If he squinted, if he strained his sharp eyes to see filter out the blinding light, he and the blue dragon were apparently being guided through what looked like a cloud of binary and programming language—

"Hurry up!" Veemon's voice thrust into his ears, the Chosen possessed by an uncontrollable giddiness. "Nnnnnhhhhhh!"

Chris held his tongue. Not that the courtesy did him any good—Veemon was certain to feel a little insulted had he noticed the amused smirk on his face. _Such a child_, he mused. Chris couldn't help but chuckle. _How adorable._

Then Veemon's head twisted in his direction, an immature frown on his muzzle. One his obsessive fans in the Real World would respond to with an unbreakable, annoying _cling_. Chris's grin widened at the comical effect of his facial expression, but before he could even verbalize one comment—

"Don't you say a word!"

He blinked.

As if Veemon had heard his thoughts, as if he felt the goldenrod eyes putting him under some kind of trial, as if he had seen the amused smile forming on his face, "I haven't been to the Real World for three years, you know."

"You excited?"

"Pfft," he snickered. "Duh!"

"Anything I should know?"

"Yeah," he said, calming down. Grinning, "I'll be riding your head from now on."

"…you have feet."

The look Veemon gave him spoke volumes, hurling '_spoilsport_' and '_killjoy_' at him as many times as his mind allowed it.

"I'm not a horse you can get up and ride—

"Don't you remember what I told you before? I devolve to Chibimon in the Real World!"

"'Devolve'?"

Suddenly, the Digimon of Miracles twitched, facing towards the blinding light, the direction from where it was the brightest. "We're here!" He piped. "We're—OOF!"

Once again, Christopher found himself at a loss. The trip concluded without warning. Unlike his travels in the Space Between Worlds, there was no rising intensity and brightness when they approached the destination. The fascinating lines of energy, the binary, and the countless shapes and models of computer characters, every one bound by nothing but absolute freedom itself, yielded to indissoluble restraints on color and form.

Blinding light and weightlessness gave way to shapes and sizes, to a gravity that pulled both human and digimon down to the center of the earth… or at least, to the nearest thing that obstructed its path.

That being the floor of a small bedroom.

It had not even occurred to Christopher he was no longer standing upright, but lying face down on a white carpet.

Not until a voice groaned beneath him. "Oww..."

Only then did he realize his goldenrod eyes saw nothing but blue, his brain registering the warmth and smoothness of new leather, and his nose detecting the faint whiff of petrichor—

"Can you get off me?" Veemon snapped with an impatience he could only have acquired from years of living with Daisuke Motomiya. "Like, **now**?"

Embarrassed at pinning the blue dragon with his body weight _and not even realizing it _until the poor digimon called for his attention, Christopher picked himself up at once. "My bad," the blond apologized, his gaze blessing their destination with a quick scrutiny.

"This is the Real World?" he whispered, addressing himself like a lunatic. To his right was an unkempt bed, too small to fit more than one. As narrow as Veemon's bed back in the satellite base, but long enough to fit a full-grown human.

The orange light normally associated with dusk shone in from a window behind the bed, revealing the empty boxes and bags scattered across the floor, each containing food in one part of its life. Books and magazines littered the carpet, adding to the mess and giving Chris the impression whoever lived in this pigsty placed no value whatsoever on personal hygiene **and** tidiness.

They were about fifteen stories up, judging from the city's skyline.

Chris spied a wooden door before him. The panel was held ajar by its hinges, reinforcing his opinion whoever lived here _desperately_ needed quick lessons on hygiene, order, and cleanliness, not to mention first impressions. _Is that a _condom_ I see sticking out over there?_

Poor soul must have no friends, he was certain of this apartment's resident.

Then again, it wasn't as if the resident expected complete strangers were going to appear from—

Chris whirled around at that thought. _That's right! Where the hell did we come—_the blond's eyes widened at the laptop sitting innocently on the desk, next to a plush toy that looked like a small, white dragon with a red line running across its snout—_from?_

"No way." Christopher Van Numen took a step towards the black machine, his eyes noticing the glowing _ALIENWARE_ logo beneath the monitor, casting a yellow hue on whoever approached the computer. "W-we came," he stammered, absolutely dumbstruck by the revelation. "We came, from, f-from, from **this**!"

_Holy shit, Vee was right! We __**were**__ in a computer!_

Eyes darted across the screen, looking for anything out of the ordinary, suspicious icons, and telltale marks of tampering in the open Mozilla Firefox window that had on display a comic about alchemists and a couple of brothers.

Only to find nothing.

Christopher's fingers moved along the mousepad, employing shortcuts like it had been instinct, like he was accustomed to the Windows operating system. "There's nothing," he muttered. "No trace of the program. Did it delete itself or something? Antivirus software didn't even recognize a—

"Whoooaaaa, this is weird."

His companion's pitched, child-like voice shattered Christopher's concentration, a distraction he appreciated. The blond gave the Chosen his full attention, watching the blue dragon idle at their point of arrival. His scarlet orbs were stupefied by their owner's own body, following the movements of his own hands.

"What's weird?" Chris asked, finding nothing wrong with the digimon. After all, he was still as tall as his waist. Hands and feet had five fingers and three toes. A short horn still jutted out from his snout. The blond could see the prominent V-shaped mark on the forehead and the two yellow triangles—

"This!" Veemon stared back.

Christopher cocked an eyebrow. "You just, uhhhh, gestured yourself."

A crease formed between his eyes. "Exactly!" A word that reflected his baffled state. "I don't get it. Isn't this supposed to be the Real World?"

The blond shrugged. Except for the fact they were in a city now, and in an apartment no less, everything else looked the same. As far as _he_ was concerned, there was virtually no difference between the two worlds. Not visual. Not sensual.

Only the transfer was Christopher sure of—though it wasn't the kind that separated universes from each other, the tunnel he and Veemon went through emitted the feeling of crossing over to a different plane of reality. Anyone with experience in the matter could tell.

"I don't know, Vee. **You're** the local here. You tell me."

Veemon closed his eyes. "Well…" He took a deep breath, as if trying to analyze the air with a nose Christopher could not even see on his muzzle. "It _smells_ like it," he murmured, not knowing his whispers were easily heard by the blond's naturally augmented hearing. Not noticing him recoil at the senselessness of those words.

Despite the clutter, the bedroom was no different from Veemon's room in the satellite base. Every whiff carried the scent of sweat and dirty laundry to Chris's nose, permeated with an unidentifiable but repulsive odor belonging to whoever lived in this pigsty.

Just how could Veemon tell this was the Real World? Ignoring all else, the only difference between this room and the digimon's was the latter's wet-earth-and-leather scent permeating the entire space. _That _didn't bother Christopher in the slightest, being more tolerable and pleasant than something that reminded him of wet newspapers caked in putrid ferment and slime.

Veemon plopped on the office chair in front of the laptop, reclining back and lost in thought.

Chris waited a minute before he finally spoke up. "Errr, you okay?"

An incomprehensible grumble met his concern, preceding a frustrated hum coming from the depths of his throat.

"Vee?"

"Argh," the dragon groaned, gazing down at his own body. "I can't think of anything! What's—?"

Chris seized his shoulders, holding on the azure digimon with a tight grip. "Vee, you look like you're going insane just from _thinking_."

"It's just that—it's just"—he finally sighed. "I don't get it. I'm supposed to be Chibimon in the Real World. Not Veemon."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at him as if Chris was an idiot. "Uh, smaller version of me? Y'know, my second baby form?"

"'Baby form'?" The man let out an incredulous chuckle. "What're you talking about, man? Vee is Vee."

An exasperated Veemon slapped himself in the face. "Chris, you still remember our talks, do you?"

"Of course," he scoffed, recognizing his reference to the nightly conversations they've been having. "Like I'd forget the _hours_ we spent talking instead of sleeping."

"When I was talking about digital evolution, were you even paying—

"I _always_ give you my full attention," Chris stressed. "But," he dallied, "uuhh..."

It seemed easy at first. From what he gathered, digital evolution was a temporary metamorphosis, with Veemon possessing the data of several forms within him. "Chibimon" was a tiny version of the blue dragon sitting before him right now, the latter having described him to have stubs for hands and lacking the pronounced snout protruding from his face.

"Honestly…"

Other creatures were mentioned—"Fladramon" and "Lighdramon", among others—but Chris couldn't keep up. Veemon had lost his friend when he kept lecturing him, going into in-depth terminologies and mechanics he'd never understand—Armor and DNA Evolution, Crests, and Digimentals, just to name a few—without seeing it for himself.

"…I _barely_ followed you on that."

Veemon bowed, disappointed.

Chris gave a nervous laugh. "I mean, everything seemed exaggerated to me."

The Digimon of Miracles sagged further, ears drooping down at the disappointment he surely felt on realizing Christopher wasn't the type to accept things at face value, but rather the type to do it only after it appealed to some sense for logical order. "You don't have to analyze _everything._"

Deducing this brief stint of gloom, Veemon glanced back at the man when he felt the hands on his shoulders pat them twice. "So what if I can't understand all this evolution stuff?" He gave the dragon a light squeeze. "Doesn't solve the problem you're not what you're supposed to be."

"Yeah…"

"So, how're you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess."

"No, no, no," the blond clarified. "I mean, is there anything that feels _off_?"

"Off… how?" Veemon's eyes narrowed at the question, unable to discern Chris's point.

"How? Like your body feels _different_."

Veemon was right about to open his muzzle when Chris interrupted him. "Different not because you're in your Child—Baby—Teen—whatever form you're in." He hummed, giving himself a few precious seconds to figure out a way to describe something exclusively experiential.

"I mean, it's something like—your mind's constantly _nagging_ at you. Telling you there's something suspicious, even when everything looks—feels normal."

Veemon nodded.

"You get me?"

He continued when he saw the dragon's puzzled look. "Maybe if you concentrate, if you empty your mind, you might feel something tingling all over you…"

As Chris spoke, the firmness of his clutch on Veemon's shoulders tightened, but only enough for him to detect even the smallest twitches of his head and upper body. All senses centered on the Chosen's burgundy orbs and the beating heart in his white chest, the blond was monitoring Veemon for consternation or any strange reactions.

The dragon never realized he was under a scrutiny so thorough it would put any lie detector to shame. "I dunno," his tongue flapped, delivering the reply to Chris as he scratched his head, probably believing Chris's hold on him was a show of concern rather than an act of espionage. "I feel a little stronger… I think."

"Can you elaborate a little more?"

Veemon cringed. His large, scarlet eyes regarded Chris as if he had gone insane. "Christopher!"

The blond didn't have to look at the awkward stare he was receiving to know Veemon really meant to say: "Are you _effing_ serious? Don't give me a headache here!"

"Just try."

"Okay," he whimpered.

Christopher did not relieve the dragon of his gaze. Veemon hummed, hawed, and dawdled in his quest for an answer. The silence persisted, taking so long a pair of goldenrod spheres observed sweat running down the dragon's muzzle—a clear testament of the sheer difficulty of describing precisely how his body felt.

Chris preferred to keep Veemon as comfortable and happy as possible, but this was an important matter to him, for the blond suspected subtle changes occurring within the digimon. Alterations were being made without his knowledge, and Christopher had an inkling such changes were _permanent_.

Three foreboding signs were already in his mind's eye, each harmless in isolation but telling when taken together.

Veemon's swift recovery was certainly unexpected, but what tipped Christopher off was his ability to do manual labor almost as soon as he woke up in his bed.

Going on and off in his mind since their last day in the satellite base was the successful attack Veemon pulled on him during their spar. How he overcome his inhuman attributes and managed to hit him couldn't be described by anything less than amazing.

No surprise attack had been executed in that fight. Veemon knew Chris' fighting skills to the point he knew there was no way Commandramon could've distracted him. It had been clear from the start that Christopher only pulled his punches. Everything else—agility, reaction time, combat efficiency—was utilized as if it was a battle to the death. Veemon never would've hit him with his signature headbutt unless he had luck on his side.

Or unless he was growing stronger.

Veemon's confusion at the state of his body and the difficulty in answering what were simple questions confirmed the latter trail of thought and _worse_, indicated the dragon had no idea what was happening to him.

All indications were confirmed the second his lips went forward to pout.

Christopher was beginning to worry. The "balance" reared its ugly head once again, spitting on Chris's efforts to contain it. Loyal to his neutral, political alignment, for him no amount of friendship, no amount of sympathy or guilt was worth compromising further the balance of power he already corrupted just by being—

"Chris, can you—

The blond returned to reality instantly, locking eyes with the blue dragon even if he had been doing just that for the past five minutes.

"Can you **stop** staring at me?" Veemon requested, having noticed Chris was peering into his eyes with such intensity it didn't take long for him to feel awkward. The Chosen squirmed against the hands keeping his shoulders in place, his feelings toward them consonant with his sentiments on the blond's protracted gaze. "You're making me feel like…"

"Like you're on the spotlight?" Chris supplied.

"Uh huh."

Christopher Van Numen shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before releasing the blue dragon. "Sorry," he apologized, watching Veemon rub his shoulders and flex his arms, stretching and ridding himself of the soreness permeating his limbs. "I'm just a little anxious."

Veemon smiled a bit, hearing his concern. "It's okay," he chirped.

"Soooo—

"Got nothing. Nada. Zilch. Maaaayybeee those three years in the Digital World made me stronger?"

Christopher stroked the medallion hanging by his neck absentmindedly. "Maybe," he found himself agreeing, however skeptical he was of such unprecedented growth. "But that only applies—

Veemon's ears tensed in a sudden jolt. His body stiffened, leaning slightly towards the door. The Chosen opened his mouth to warn Christopher of the footsteps approaching from outside, their subtle tip-taps audible to his sensitive hearing.

* * *

_We can't be seen here!_ The dragon thought, slipping into panic. His imagination could not grasp how serious their situation would turn out if the two of them were discovered in the bedroom.

They appeared in someone's room.

In someone's house.

Someone neither of them knew!

.

.

_Ken Ichijouji placed a small cube on the table, his gauntlets making the object look bigger than it really was and adding an ominous air to the device. "Before we lost contact with Gennai, he and Koushirou collaborated on this."_

_The Digimon Tactician pulled the lapels of his robes as he described it as the only item the Digital Monsters had that had the ability to completely bypass the defenses of the Digital Dive System, but only at the cost of precious control._

_Veemon did not understand what it meant, for nobody had ever bothered to inform him of developments at the Fortress, keeping him in the dark on everything concerning the Real World. Daisuke's partner would have never entertained the thought his fellow Chosen, human and digimon alike, would conceal the gears moving the hastily-organized resistance against the Digital Suppression Initiative._

_He would have never thought he was the symbol of innocence and naivety they tried to preserve, even when their grip over him crumbled as his dreams of meeting Daisuke eroded gradually as the months passed. As the oppressive hand of humanity showed itself in the countless soldiers invading the Digital World, threatening to destroy everything he once knew of humanity like the others fighting alongside him, ridiculing the merits of their foreign invaders despite the fact they were led by individuals of the very same._

_The seeds of knowledge would have been sowed in the naïve Veemon's head by Christopher's curiosity and (rare expression of) concern had the hand of fate chose a later moment for Ken Ichijouji to answer the digimon's question. "Whatever message we send, whatever item we realize from the Digital World, it'll show up on ANY random computer connected to the Internet." _

_Ken did nothing to conceal his hideous scowl. "Worse, the DDS can track the destination device, so you'd have five, ten minutes at most before DSI peacekeepers come knocking."_

.

.

Veemon's urge to flee intensified when the memory reminded him the Digital Suppression Initiative had already been alerted to their position. Even if the Harmonious Ones blessed them with a doorbell to distract the resident, as long as they lingered in the apartment…

They had to get out of there!

Worry filled him when he spotted the Tokyo skyline from the balcony, telling the Chosen they were over ten stories above the ground. How were they escaping **this** mess?

Confronting someone who wasn't involved was the last thing they needed. Even Veemon knew a nonviolent conclusion would take too much time to resolve and a skirmish with the DSI was _not_ wanted.

Veemon had to stop Christopher's rebuttal before his voice could float into the resident's ears.

But before he could shush the blond, before he could start hissing his rebuttal into silence, a hand clutched his muzzle, keeping it shut. "Qui—MMMPH!"

An anxious gaze went to his friend, followed by insults on his intellect for clamping down on his snout ahead of his warning. Now confident Christopher would never subject him to a viselike grip similar to the one he had on his neck the day they met, Veemon moved to wrench the hand away from his snout.

Then a thought popped into his head, assuaging his panic. He had just noticed that Christopher, too, also shut his mouth. _Oh yeaaaaaahh, his hearing's as good as mine._

Considering the man acted moments earlier than he did, _maybe even better._

Christopher and Veemon stared at each other for a few, tense moments. Barely noticeable twitches coincided with every footstep they heard, growing stronger the closer the resident got. Crimson eyes peered into goldenrod, relaying a question that didn't need to be asked: _What're we gonna do?_

The blond's eyes did not hold any comfort for him—Christopher was as stunned as he was, unable to conceive a solution. Feeling the hand gripping his muzzle relax a little, "Chris," he decided to murmur.

"I know."

"If we're found…"

"_Veemon_."

Tip.

Tap.

"It's getting closer!"

Tip.

"Damn, we can't just hide."

Tap.

"Uhhh, what about outside?"

"Hmm…"

"Is that a good'hmm' or a _bad_ 'hmm'?"

TIP.

TAP.

Veemon froze. The resident was close! He could even hear the person breathing.

Christopher considered it for a second…

A second Veemon found awfully stressful lapsed. He was biting his nails out of apprehension when he heard the person sneeze **close to the door**.

The Digimon of Miracles jerked.

Christopher Van Numen seized Veemon's palm. "Ah, screw it!" he muttered, dragging the digimon by the hand as he bolted for the open balcony. The speed and their height difference lifted Veemon airborne, giving him a clear view of their chosen hiding place.

Problem was, there was no place to hide. No curtains around to conceal them from plain sight.

"Idiot! We're going to be se—

No. Chris wasn't running there to hide. He intended instead to—

"Oh no! Ooooooohhh no! We can't do _that_!" he reasoned, almost forgetting to keep his voice down. "There's got to be another—

They were through the doorway.

"Better hold tight, Vee!"

"We're too high!"

Christopher set his foot on the railing, giving Veemon a terrifying view of the ground below.

"We're gonna—_I'm_ gonna d—AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The blond jumped.

He actually jumped.

From an apartment unit, **fifteen stories up**.

The dragon couldn't help but look down. He saw the cars parked on the sides of the road. The people walking along the pavement. The dirt and grime coating the gray and white buildings around them. The signage of Shibuya 109 far in the distance. The ominous silhouette of Mt. Fuji kilometers to the west. The afternoon sun in the middle of its descent.

Everything his eyes took in was so small, so tiny, had he been a towering giant he could've clasped them all within the palm of his hands.

For one brief moment, Veemon forgot about the room they left behind, letting the thought of someone hearing the heavy footsteps Chris made in his mad dash for the balcony and the Chosen's desperate pleading prior to the big jump slip from his mind.

He forgot about the prospect of falling to his doom, the obvious danger of becoming an inchoate mass of blood and guts on the asphalt, gurgling in indescribable agony before being crushed by a passing car.

But only for that one brief moment.

Veemon's heart started pumping the instant he regained his senses, the moment he realized the dangers were all too real. The serene sight of the Tokyo skyline failed to mollify his growing panic and palpitating breathing.

When he remembered the object in his grasp, when he felt the weight of Christopher's hand in his palm, compelled by sheer instinct, he strengthened his grip and held it so tightly he could care less for the fact the pressure would've crushed the hand of a normal human.

Veemon didn't even feel his claws digging into the blond's skin, for he was too busy screaming like a little girl, releasing the fear pulsating throughout his body. "WWAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Had Daisuke seen this, he would've been so ashamed… before using this rare bout of cowardice to ridicule him for years. Even if Veemon punished him by pulling his ears and licking him until he begged for sweet mercy, the Child of Miracles would always think to himself seeing his partner vexed "was totally worth it".

Patamon, on the other hand, would start teasing him for the same, exact reason. Veemon wasn't above swatting him out of the air, but only out of Tailmon's sight. Friendly fights between them usually ended on her intervention, followed by an annoyed grumble. "Boys."

Neither of these was in his mind when he held Chris' hand for dear life. His mind ignored these random speculations and "what if" moments with his surrogate brother and best friend, too busy chanting. "Don't-let-go."

He tried to disregard the nausea rising from his stomach. "Don't-let-go." But to no avail.

"Vee…"

His stomach felt like heaving the half-digested lunch he had back in the Digital World. "Don't-let-go-don't-let-go—

"Veemon_."_

"Don't-let-go-don't—

"**Calm down.**"

Christopher's raised voice stopped his litany. He spared the blond a nervous glance, letting awe ensnare him when he noticed the relaxed expression on his face. "You're safe," he reassured him. "Trust me on this."

Evident in his eyes and content smile was a deep appreciation for the breeze caressing them both, the sense of weightlessness underlining this experience, and the freedom of movement only something like flight (or freefall) could ever provide.

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

Christopher was intimate with this defiance of gravity, so familiar with the foreign sensation of being high up in the air with nothing to hold onto but a flightless dragon scared shitless he was impervious to the contagious fear tainting Veemon's pleasure from this experience. The Chosen had trouble describing this overflowing serenity and peace of mind, even as it set root in his chest and made him forget…

Only for it to suddenly vanish when the blond whipped his arm forward. The same arm he clung to so desperately. "Eep!" the digimon yelped, abhorring the butterflies that fluttered in his belly and augmented the urge to vomit.

Everything he had eaten that day would've barreled out his mouth if he wasn't conscious of Chris' actions. Or rather, if crashing into a black vest didn't tell him he had been brought forward to the blond's chest.

Like any animal fearing for life, like any person seeking safety, upon contact Veemon wrapped his arms and legs around Chris' torso, drawing what little relief he could from having something _larger_ to cling to while resting his head on the human's right shoulder.

Such respite was short-lived, for the stomach-churning descent soon began. Gravity pulled down with the full ferocity it could enforce. Nausea filled him as his insides felt like heading for his throat. The surroundings flew up, becoming indistinguishable blurs of color as they accelerated.

_Where are we landing?_ He worried. He twisted his head to the right, squinting to perceive the concrete roof of a building closing in fast. Apparently, it dawned on him, Chris had set his sights on this the moment he made his jump.

The landing zone was merely six stories aboveground, situated amidst buildings taller than it. Out of curiosity, the blue dragon looked back at the apartment they left behind. Mentally estimating its position, his crimson eyes widened as he discovered just how far Christopher could jump.

They were over four blocks away.

Before he could chew on this information, the Digimon of Miracles felt the man's left arm move over to his back, providing firm support across his spine and increasing the level of protection by grabbing his head and firmly pressing it down on his shoulder.

It was the beginning of the end.

_This is it_, the Chosen braced himself, preparing himself for a violent jolt when more pressure on his back indicated the blond brought his other arm forward to embrace both the dragon and himself…

And not a moment too soon.

One nervous second preceded the fierce shudder of alighting on _solid concrete_ passing through their bodies, subjecting Veemon and his companion to tremors so strong they would've crippled a normal digimon and _killed_ an ordinary human.

Operating on instinct, Veemon shut his eyes as the sensation of falling progressed into dizzying revolutions as Christopher and the digimon secured to his body proceeded into several rolls across the roof. Later in a quiet moment, he would reflect and arrive at the conclusion Chris held him close to minimize the risk of having his little charge suffer whiplash or other irreversible injuries.

Closing his eyes did Veemon no good in the end. It didn't spare him from the nausea succeeding at least ten rolls across the roof. He resisted falling on his butt when Christopher got to his knees and released the dragon cradled in his arms.

Unfortunately, everything he saw went in circles.

"Uuuuuugggghhhhhh…" he wobbled before the blond, oblivious to Christopher frisking his body for any injuries. _I'm going to be sick—_"URP!" _Oh no._

Oh no, indeed.

Ounces of willpower were spent keeping his throat from throwing out the contents of his stomach. _Not…_

Muzzle quivering from the demands of his body, the blue dragon opposed every impulse to hurl, deeming it too shameful to show weakness like this.

_Gonna…_

Even if Chris didn't seem the type to deride him for it, even if he was more likely to give him a sympathetic pat on the back instead of teasing him like Daisuke would, Veemon's pride was so strong he did everything he could to fight the temptation of regurgitation.

…_Hurl!_ "GHRP!"

"There," the man beamed. "Now _that_ wasn't so bad, was it?"

That's when Veemon threw up.

"Oh my god."

Chris just **haaaadd** to slap him on the back.

"This," Veemon heaved, giving the blond an evil eye, "is all, ulp, your—

He couldn't resist an encore. Not that he had a choice anyway.

Christopher continued to annoy him. "Holy shit, Vee. You ate _that much_ for lunch?"

Pouting, the Child digimon threw a fist at the guy before wiping the muck off his muzzle and spitting the acrid taste of vomit on the floor. But the taste just _wouldn't_ go away no matter what he did. "YOU'RE NUTS!"

The smug look Chris had was annoying him, and it didn't help that the smirk widened the longer he sulked. "I can't believe you!" He yelled between rapid breaths, still palpitating from pumping out the thick, repulsive chyme that now blessed an otherwise barren slab of concrete a lively and vibrant color. "I've never been so—Grrr, you really scared me back there—Chris! Will you just LOOK at me?"

"Hell no!"

"_What_?"

"I can smell your breath from _way_ over here."

"Oh, like you actually had a biiiiig problem with my breath!"

"Uhhhh, that's **before** you spewed out all that crap."

Veemon pounced on Christopher and pinned him to the floor on his back. The blond was so apathetic he didn't even bother trying to evade him, and that annoyed him even further. Seizing his collar, "And _whose_ fault do you think it was?" He made sure every syllable was pronounced with his mouth as wide open as possible. "HMMMMMM?"

The response was awkward laughter. "Eehehehehehe…"

He exhaled, drawing amusement from the way Chris scrunched his nose at the lingering smell. "Seriously, how could you be so _relaxed_? I almost turned white thinking about going SPLAT all over. And the gravity! It, was—

"Meeeeh," the blond dismissed his rants. "I'm used to it."

"_Used_ to it?"

"The wind is my element." Veemon couldn't help noticing his childish grin, unable to rebut his words as he plummeted into a stupor punctuated by silence.

He snapped out of it when the stillness yielded to Christopher's amused giggles. "Some 'hero' you are, Vee," he joshed. "You've accomplished so much in all those stories you told me. Who knew you'd be so scared of **heights**?"

Red eyes began twitching. Why didn't he seem to understand a fifteen-storey fall would've been lethal to him? Chris had been so casual during the jump, he might as well have forgotten the dragon could've lost his grip and died.

It didn't matter if he, the Digimon of Miracles, had faced death countless times against enemies many would find daunting. It didn't matter if he survived them all, obliterating Armagemon, slaying BelialVamdemon, pushing Demon into the Dark Ocean, and otherwise saving both Digital and Real Worlds multiple times empowered by the strength of friendship and teamwork (as clichéd as it sounded).

All his accomplishments fell on his evolutions, but never _Veemon_ himself. His own survivability was contingent on his form. Had he performed the jump on his own, his Adult form, ExVeemon, would've received a dull ache in the legs upon landing, while either of his Armor evolutions was destined to experience a sickening crack followed by an agony that would no doubt persist through any subsequent devolution. A gruesome death awaited anything beneath!

"Eeeeeehhh! I can't help it if I have to **evolve** first!"

Chris scoffed. "Excuses, excuses." The digimon could see his waving hand from the corner of his eyes. "That's all I'm hearing."

"One more time, Christopher," Veemon brought his snout closer, growling like a feral animal. "One more time. Just try me, I _dare_ you…"

* * *

"So you're coming tonight?"

Taichi Yagami appeared prim and sharp in his long-sleeves, the beryl color complementing well with his chiseled face. His brown hair was short, no longer the untamed afro many considered his signature. His trademark. What sprouted from his head was but a shadow of its former self, the wild explosion revealing traces of what it once was.

The Chosen Child crossed his legs, staring at a middle-aged couple from the comforts of a white, leather sofa. Both man and woman ogled Taichi with reverence, for he had the reputation of a living legend, even at the age of 24.

He was at an age many adults would still consider young and stubbornly naïve, nearing the end of a journey to acclimate the dreary, gray zones of life, where adulthood meant responsibility, forgetting all things that mattered to the immature, like videogames, monsters… maybe, even the ideals commonly held by children.

The couple sitting on the opposite side of the room on a similar piece of furniture would certainly have treated him as such if it weren't for the accomplishments lifting his name, or for the experiences he had undergone _before_ entering the hormone-fueled stage of adolescence. Experiences that shaped his life for the years to follow.

Then, now, and beyond.

They wore determination on their faces, stealing occasional glances at the Child of Courage as they debated with each other, their words muffled by hushed whispers Taichi could not even hear. It was obviously a serious conversation, one that had to be held in private but in clear view of the famous Yagami, who one could easily figure out was here for business rather than meaningless sociality and banter.

Perhaps they would've taken him more seriously if it wasn't for the doofus sleeping next to him. By "doofus", Taichi referred to the orange, miniature Tyrannosaurus Rex sleeping next to him, its head on his lap and muzzle opened so wide the loud snores carried a smell screaming for some mouthwash and a temptation for someone—anyone—to pop something in the gaping snout.

_Agumon,_ he grumbled to himself, _you do great wonders for my professional image_.

Thank the heavens the couple didn't give a damn about his "professional image". If there was any indication Agumon was being a nuisance, it would be the occasional glance he'd get whenever the cacophonous snores warbling from his throat had the cutthroat intensity of a New York driver insulting someone's mother with the car horn.

If it wasn't so frequent, Taichi's cheeks wouldn't have been flushed with embarrassment.

"Where," the male coughed. "Where are we meeting?"

He was lucky the Kurosawas didn't mind… though he promised himself to give Agumon one hell of a rude awakening when "business" was over and done with.

"Yoyogi Park," Taichi stated. Emotion was ostensibly absent. "In Shinjuku."

A door in the hallway caught his eye. Two human-shaped silhouettes loitered behind the thin gap between it and its doorway. No doubt they were the couple's children. The elder Yagami conjectured there were many reasons why the two of them had to hide like that just to listen in on his meeting with their parents—too young to understand, had to be sheltered from the real world, to name a couple. He chose to do nothing. _They need to hear this, too._

"That's," he spoke. "T-that's—isn't that park a bit too close to the perimeter?"

"Junas," groaned the Child of Courage, like he had done this a thousand times, and each time was as frustrating and as difficult as the first. "Many of their soldiers are fighting in the Digital World or the Middle East. The DSI's currently deficient in manpower and for once in this war we have an opportunity to—

"But isn't it safer if we all meet somewhere farther?"

"Look," he explained, "the closer we are to the perimeter, the easier it is for us to get into position."

The male was obviously satisfied with his response, but he noticed it did nothing to alleviate the haunted gaze stalking his wife. Taichi turned to her, already anticipating what exactly was on the tip of her tongue. He gave her an opening to crawl through. "Marie, is there something on your mind?"

Mrs. Kurosawa regarded him for a second, hesitant on pushing her question forward. He wasn't surprised at her diffidence. She was first and foremost a mother, the kind who was more concerned with her children than she was with her own welfare.

When the question spewed forth from her lips, it was not spoken like an accusation. It was not articulated with the intent of attacking the Child of Courage and slamming him for something so egregious he was less of a man, less of a human being, to even consider what he intended for this war.

"Mr. Yagami," the woman began, addressing him formally as if to say this wasn't personal, that this had nothing to do with their relationship. That this was _business_. "Do—d-do, Ai and Mako… m-must, must they be part of this?"

He returned her gaze. Taichi's was a fortified glare, the type that would send anyone unfortunate enough to set their eyes upon the Chosen Child's glowering orbs recoiling from intimidation. Taichi Yagami was not the chief of the Digidestined for nothing, having proved his keep by pushing the Twelve to success. First as a strategist and leader, then as a mentor and guide.

Once employed by the United Nations as the Earth's first** and last **ambassador to the Digital World, Taichi had long learned the lesson of pressure in the frontier of politics, where men and women as callous and thoughtless as the villains he and the Twelve have fought and slain for the sake of the two worlds plotted against each other and acted under the guise of philanthropy, justice, and other noble ideals when in reality it was nothing more but selfishness and egocentric aspirations.

Marie Kurosawa seemed to shrink under his scrutiny, but despite the emotions rushing through her, she wrested control over herself and tendered her concerns as if the legendary Child of Courage asked her what she meant by her words. "They're just kids! They can't just go with us to a military operation like this. What if—

"They're _tamers_."

"But still—

"Young or old, all tamers have a responsibility to fight."

"Taichi, they're not even teenagers!"

"Ai and Mako's digimon partner, for all his character faults, is one of the strongest we have in the team. We **need** him, especially for _Pyramid_'s second phase—

"Then we can just—

"_Marie_, stop this." He snorted in disgust. "I was **eleven** when I saved the two worlds. **None** of the Chosen Childrenwere older than twelve when we were on active duty."

"What about 2002? Weren't you all involved—

He shook his head. "We were their guides. Mentors. I don't know how much of _Zero Two _you've actually seen, but if you paid more attention to our animé, maybe you'd notice we only provided support to those who _did_ the fighting ten years ago."

Mrs. Kurosawa opened her mouth to reply, but this time she was brusquely cut off by the Chosen Child, annoyed by the incessant arguing. "I know where you're coming from, and I can sympathize with your concerns, but this is**pointless**!

"Even if we hit the DSI at its weakest, there's no telling how much of a fight they'll put up. We need all the firepower we can get, and having Ai and Mako will tremendously boost the offensive!

"Besides," he waved his arm, gesturing at the room they were in. "Can you **really** keep on living like this?" It was so decrepit and squalid, he wondered how the family managed to live in it. He was appalled by the permanent stains dotting the couch he sat on. Taichi couldn't even look at the dilapidated walls and the discolored wallpaper peeling off from wear, age, and neglect.

He found it profoundly disturbing to see mold teeming in every corner, infesting the house so much some derelict objects were plagued with green fur. Only a psychopath would have no pity for someone living in such fetid conditions. If he wasn't so consumed with his business, Taichi would've tried pushing the Kurosawas to **at least** clean up the trash and unkempt belongings scattered across the floor. "If _Operation: Pyramid_ succeeds, the DSI's operations in **the entire country** will cease to a halt! Don't tell me you forgot how much it'll help us all!

"You don't have to move from home to home just to evade the Peacekeepers! The Digidestined will be free to promote its message and spread the truth without being branded terrorists and criminals. We can go after bigots who _discriminate _freedigimon and people like us! We—

Marie Kurosawa wept. His words highlighted the miserable life they led. Those who thought digimon were a People rather than manmade programs available for conquest and subjugation to lives devoid of dignity and mutual respect were vilified by human society.

They were ostracized from socializing with their own species—cast out for merely deviating from the dogmatic philosophies of Man. Believing in the digital monsters' equality and freedom was as bad as or even worse than entering an intimate, sexual relationship with one of them.

Vandals broke into their homes. Bullies ganged up on their kids at school. The vengeful would attempt to gun down the monsters, whether they were liberated or enslaved by the triband suppressors clipped to their bodies—these people would kill tamers if they could!

Thinking about their hard life stoked memories of his own past, desperately clutching at straws for politicians to embrace the light, hearing Hikari weep about their parents, listening to Takeru struggle to remain hopeful of their situation, and drinking with Daisuke as he voiced out his feelings on being oppressed by those he thought were friends when the Child of Miracles no longer found solace in his surrogate brother, let alone his family.

Mrs. Kurosawa broke into tears, snapping Taichi from his depressing reverie, emptying his heart of its gloom and replacing it with regret. He never intended to turn the mother into a sobbing wretch. Seeing Marie break down stung his heart.

Junas moved to hug his wife and provide comfort like any loving husband would. Yet the deed had been done. Once again, the Child of Courage felt sick. Disgusted at the thought such agony was caused by humans like himself.

It seemed almost shameful to consider himself a member of humankind. Wasn't Man attracted to the Good? Why was his species a wonderful race individually, but self-seeking, heartless, and outright manipulative **racially**? He couldn't help but think of that religion called Christianity, a faith strong only in the Philippines but weak in every other Asian country.

Although Japan was primarily Shinto or Buddhist, Taichi knew enough of this uncommon creed to know Christian acolytes and believers had faith in the goodness of mankind, in their intrinsic ability to overcome the state of the world, to resist the temptations of concupiscence and walk in the light of God.

Living amidst the oppression of the Digital Suppression Initiative, residing in an era punctuated by the dark side of human nature, Taichi Yagami couldn't help but wonder if these beliefs were misplaced.

If the goodness of men was nothing but a dream.

Having witnessed these dejected scenes across multiple families over the past few weeks, Taichi Yagami wondered if there was really a point to _Operation: Pyramid_, if taking out the Digital Suppression Initiative would truly move the world towards the ending they perceived: that fairy tale coexistence he and his eleven colleagues envisioned 25 years after the Digital Revelation.

Could they truly change the world? Could a small group numbering thousands change the capitalist and oppressive paradigms internalized by billions of human beings?

Was it even practical? Was this vision **worth** fighting for?

SLAM!

Shaken from his thoughts, Taichi rotated towards the source of the noise, catching sight of the door now fully open, creaking as it retreated slightly from the wall it just struck. Quick footsteps reached his ears, and his eyes glimpsed a little girl—barely seven, he appraised—bursting into her mother's arms, crying.

Ribbons dangled in her hazel pigtails as she pounced on her like a digimon partner that had been separated from its human half for years. She buried her face on Mrs. Kurosawa's shoulder, leaving her perplexed as to where she had come from and why she just bolted into the living room without so much as a knock on the door, let alone a verbal warning.

Her eyes fell on something behind the Chosen Child, compelling him to follow her gaze and, like her, perceive the contours of a boy slightly taller, slightly older than the girl who had rudely disrupted the meeting and cut into the wandering thoughts of the elder Yagami.

Upset was visible on Makoto Kurosawa's countenance, the expression unyielding even as his little sister, Ai, cried in their mother's arms. "Waaaah!"

The lingering tension in the air grew in weight. Taichi did not just sense it; he almost choked from the dead silence, where nothing reached his ears save for Ai's sobbing. "Mommy," she pleaded, "Don't cry. Seeing you sad makes me want to cry, too!"

"A-Ai…"

"Don't worry about us," she supplicated. "Please, mommy?"

"But we can't. We just can't let you go out there and—

"I don't want to move out anymore! We're always running and running and every time I start making friends, suddenly we have to go…"

Taichi's eyes were wet, threatening to tear up at the way Ai expressed her despair. _Even if she's just a child, to be exposed to this constantly…_

Ai sniffled, glancing at the three figures in the doorway. "We just want to be complete and happy again, mommy. Me… Mako… Falcomon… even Impmon!"

A purple imp and a gray owl stood by her older brother, their forlorn eyes regarding them all. Taichi Yagami found himself wondering how long the digimon have been there, observing. Melancholy underscored their curled frowns.

Even Impmon, that small digimon with the red bandana tied to his neck, ogled his partner and her mother not with mischief, not with a wayward disgust for the emotional scene occurring before his eyes, but with sadness and self-blame.

Taichi Yagami studied each and every one of their expressions. None of them were bawling at either Mr. or Mrs. Kurosawa. Forced to mature and unwilling to accept a life of hardship and constant alienation by those who should've been loyal friends, the three of them carried a desire to take up the banner of the Digidestined and fight to end all this grief.

Mako and Taichi locked eyes and stared, no longer hearing the conversation between Marie and her daughter. Neither registered the comforting words working their way to Ai's ears and her gradual recovery.

For a minute, it was as if age did not matter between them. Taichi Yagami gazed at Makoto Kurosawa as if he was eleven again, donning the goggles he had passed on to Daisuke ten years ago and clad in the blue shirt of his yesteryears, looking ahead with nothing but the inflexible determination to survive whatever obstacles were thrown at him and his friends by monstrous adversaries before whom even grown men would crumble in fear.

It reminded the Chosen Child of his indomitable drive to leap in and persevere. It might as well have been his own. "We **will** fight," Mako's expression seemed to say. "So we can start smiling again."

Happiness.

That's what they were fighting for. **Not** survival.

Taichi smiled a little.

Fighting for their family's happiness. Fighting for an end to this injustice.

These were the sole motivations behind _Operation: Pyramid_. A desperate attack on the Digital Suppression Initiative, it was the last resort Taichi had taken, driven by a combination of despair and opportunity.

Only one name came to mind when he thought of the operation. Of the risks involved.

_Hikari._

"Taichi."

The Child of Courage turned towards the speaker, blinking at the sight of Mr. Kurosawa wiping away his own tears. "You have the Kurosawas' support. We'll see you later tonight."

He rose from his seat. "Don't forget," he reminded. "Yoyogi Park, Shinjuku. Eleven o'clock."

Taichi pulled out a red leash from his pocket as he eyed the dinosaur sleeping cozily in the couch. That he missed _everything_ irked him. "Agumon," he nudged his partner.

"Uhhhh," the Digimon of Courage replied groggily. "Just ten more minutes, Tailmon… don't smack me…"

He shook his head and gave the couch a strong kick.

Agumon was up in an instant. "Whoa! What happened? What's going on? Is the DSI attack"—he stopped when he saw Taichi Yagami ogling him, arms crossed, and with what was obviously impatience written all over his face.—"Oh. Hey, Taichi."

"Don't 'hey, Taichi' me," he lectured. "I needed you awake. Remember, we're not traveling Tokyo just to visit friends."

The orange dinosaur scratched the back of his skull, staring sheepishly with his chartreuse eyes. "Ehehehe," came the awkward laugh. "I'm sorry—it was just so comfy…"

"Well if you're just gonna sleep while I conduct business like this, I'm tying you to the next house we go to."

He threw the leash at the digimon. "Now go put this on. We're leaving."

"Do I _have_ to, Taichi? I'm sick of wearing this thing."

The Chosen Child rolled his eyes. Why Agumon refused to bear the damn thing was understandable. Having a leash around his neck made him feel like a pet. Like someone who had permanently lost their independence, living a life of slavery and insignificance.

Which, sadly, was the case for most of the digimon he'd seen in the city.

Unfortunately, they had to go through this every time they had to brave the streets of Tokyo. Agumon felt happier without the leash or—taking out a black spiral large enough to be attached to the dinosaur's arm—the deactivated triband suppressor on his body, but without these, neither of them could venture into the city.

Even though Taichi was human enough (obviously) and differed from the wanted posters scattered across the city to the point he could walk in Tokyo without any fear of being apprehended by a DSI peacekeeper, being separated from the Digimon of Courage made the Chosen Child feel like he was naked and vulnerable. In contrast, his digital half worried too much for his partner's safety, thinking assassins and DSI veterans acted in concert, plotting ambushes aimed at mutilating the biggest threat to the global coalition.

Taichi desired companionship and Agumon sought peace of mind. They needed each other, which was why the orange dinosaur (reluctantly) snapped the dark spiral—or _triband_, as the DSI dubbed these damn things—in half and clipped it on his arm. He tied the collar around his neck before attaching the leash.

"Stop complaining and wear it," Taichi muttered. "We've got a few families left, so we'll be going home soon."

"Okay…"

The Child of Courage sauntered to Mr. Kurosawa. Bowing his head in deference, he clasped the man's hand, shaking it firmly. "Junas, I can't really thank you enough for this. It means a lot to me."

"Don't worry about that," he said. "We all want a better life, Taichi. Since everyone's willing to risk their lives for this, I think it's worth a shot."

Taichi Yagami decided to leave at that moment. He picked up a black suitcase sitting quietly by the door and slung it over his shoulder as if he had been a high school student. Contained therein were writing instruments, papers, and documents meant only for his eyes to see, business or personal.

He didn't dare carry a tablet—digital security was paramount in this era and he knew the Digital Suppression Initiative had both the motives and the means to break through anything digital untouched by the Child of Knowledge.

Other than that, theft wasn't a strong threat in his mind. Everything inside was encrypted using a code only known to the leadership of the Digidestined and their family. Taichi was confident in the security. _Besides, Agumon can just blow it up if someone tries to steal it._ _I could always say it was programmed into his triband._

But on the very moment of his departure, when he slipped on his loafers, before Taichi Yagami could so much as turn the doorknob leading outside, his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket.

A call.

He reached for it, taking out a Samsung Galaxy to glance at the Kanji on the caller ID.

"Taichi?" Agumon spoke, noticing the 24-year-old stopped moving. Had he studied him more closely, the digimon might have glimpsed the color draining from his human half.

_Hikari_, he read.

His younger sister.

Taichi's face was unreadable to most. Inscrutable. But with enough scrutiny, anyone could've seen the grimace and mild displeasure on seeing the name. Why he wouldn't be overjoyed, even relieved, at the prospect of talking to the only family he had left was a matter he would never disclose, even to the surrogate brother and eternal companion that was his digital half.

In fact, he'd rather not talk to Hikari if he could help it.

The thought of snubbing his own sibling, who was so concerned for him she called his phone out of the blue, bothered his conscience. Her pain was his pain, just as her happiness was his own. She was his muse, his flame. Taichi's love for her was the lone motivation for everything he had done to date.

A weary sigh blew out his lips as he pushed the green button on the screen. But Taichi was ready for the call. As soon as he heard the younger Yagami call his name he converted this energy into a fake sweetness, the kind reserved only for beloved kin and filled to the brim with reassuring overtones. "Yes, Hikari?"

It placated Agumon's worried gaze but did nothing for the concern pronounced in her tone. "Where are you?"

"Just walking around," Taichi Yagami forced himself to lie. Clothed in her sweet innocence, the young girl—could a 21-year-old lady still be considered a "young girl"?—would never approve of _Operation: Pyramid_. Not for the risks it entailed. Not for the profiles of its operatives.

This was his business, and he'd have no regrets doing everything in the shadows of his sister's attention if it was all for her sake and the fairy tale she aspired for. The ending they all hoped for. "Hate being cooped up in the base all day long," he chuckled. "You know me."

Her response was not immediate. The Child of Courage extracted the impression she weighed his words carefully, analyzing it for anything out of the ordinary.

Lying to Hikari like this slammed Taichi in the heart, inflicting an unbearable pain comparable to being hit by a deliberately-aimed sledgehammer. But he was so overprotective of her, his precious treasure. They were alone now, living in dangerous times, separated from their parents to pursue a calling that went far and beyond the selfish needs of humanity, aiming for the idyllic coexistence between two worlds at war, not the travesty that was present reality.

The Yagami family had been broken apart by the same whirlwind of bigotry that swept the world after the Fourth of July massacre, ostracized by neighbors and friends who saw no value in treating their digital brethren like human beings, assuming the only right they had been blessed with was the right to exist.

"_Those monsters exist to serve us!_" Taichi recalled the proclamation of a colleague, who demanded the United Nations to approve of employing—_using—_digimon in wars started, sustained, and concluded by the politics between men. "_They have no rights!"_

Only after the Inoue, the Takaishi, and the Ishida families have fallen into the bottomless pit of tragedy and hopelessness did Taichi and Hikari dissociate from their parents, sacrificing the lives they had known, the love and tenderness they had lived under for almost all their lives, for the sake of their dream.

Anyone would've wanted their parents to accompany them into this hell they now live in, but the Yagami siblings were no longer children. They were full-grown adults, aware of the risks their cause entailed. The effort to convince their middle-aged parents to simply let them go and disown them was tremendous. _And in the end…_

Yagami became Kamiya, moving from Tokyo to Narita to leave behind a past that would've surely condemned them for simply being the parents of the most wanted criminals in the entire world, labeled as terrorists and radical extremists striving to overturn the order of human society.

How long has it been since they spoke to their mother? How long has it been since they have even seen her? One year? Two? Two and a half?

Only Daisuke Motomiya had it worse, leaving his digimon partner in the Digital World, and in a way that shamed the Yagami siblings' amiable yet depressing separation from their family. From what little the man was willing to tell the greatest mentor he had in his life, Veemon rejected the dissociation—considered the very idea a betrayal of their bond. Of the brotherhood they shared. No matter how much it was rationalized.

The Child of Miracles had no choice but to make the decision for him, and until the day he mysteriously vanished two years ago, the one thing that was on his mind was…

.

.

_The adult's form quivered in front of Taichi. _

_He was a mess. A disheveled mess he'd never associate with someone as resolute, as headstrong, and as confident as Daisuke Motomiya._

"_Will he…" his voice shook. He squeezed the can of beer in his hands until it buckled from the pressure. The crackling aluminum accented the hiss in his throats. "I never, I never meant for __**this**__ to happen. I made a promise! And I—_

_Taichi would've seized the can just so its contents wouldn't spill, if he hadn't been stopped by a remorse so strong he'd never thought something like it to be shimmering within the Child of Miracles. "Will Veemon ever forgive me?" _

.

.

Taichi shuddered at the memory, knowing _his _parents could've reacted the same way. What would have happened? What would the two siblings do? Would they have forced the decision as well? Would they go against the wishes of their loved ones?

Even if they did it for them?

Even if they did it out of love?

Now he could sympathize with Daisuke. Like Veemon, his little sister would never accept the ideas—the _intentions_—swirling in his head.

Now Taichi could understand why he had to keep her in the shadows, never to reveal his plans until success fell into his grasp. Or until he had been figured out—

Hikari Yagami shattered the awkward silence that had lingered since this conversation began. "Is that _really_ what you're doing?" she asked, and for a second there he thought the Child of Light pierced his armor of obscurity.

"What?" he croaked, attempting evasion.

"You're not on 'official business'?"

Nonchalant, "No, I'm not. I told you, I'm just walking around."

"Where?"

Why was she—Taichi scratched his head out of frustration. Hikari must be _really_ worried for her to pry so bluntly. This wasn't like her at all—the Hikari he knew was obedient and full of trust. She was so innocent the Child of Light would never even doubt her older brother.

He shut his eyes. _No_, he scolded himself. _She's not a little kid anymore_. She was no longer that little girl in the yellow dress, with that white scarf and wide, coquelicot eyes sparkling with innocence only a good child would have.

The Hikari he _really_ knew was the same child who grew up in a time where her naïve beliefs were shattered, one after another. A woman who had lost her significant other, her best friend, her colleagues, her parents, and worst of all, her opportunities to chase a dream of becoming a teacher loved by her students.

She had nothing to hold onto except Tailmon and her older brother. Nobody else could fill the void in her heart, not even the relatives of their fellow Chosen.

_Never mind_, Taichi corrected his own thoughts. _This __**is **__something she'd do._

"If you really have to know," he retorted, "I'm at Fujinomiya." Sounds from behind reached his ears—footsteps. They stopped a few feet behind him, causing him to rotate and glimpse Mr. and Mrs. Kurosawa gaping at him, thunderstruck.

Telling lies was the last thing they expected from the venerated Taichi Yagami. Unfortunately, that was _exactly_ what he did, even when he was already under observation. "Don't worry too much, Hikari. I'm just having a drink with a couple of friends, that's all."

Before she replied, the Chosen Child looked back at the parents. Falcomon stood behind them, shaking his head with his wings crossed in front of his purple, ninja gi, staring at him as if he had committed some unforgivable sin for which he should be thrown out and left to rot in the streets.

Or, judging from the bewildered curtains worn on their three faces, they were probably thinking he was one of the biggest hypocrites they have ever known.

"Please, Taichi," she requested. "Come home. I'm getting worried—you know how the DSI has forward bases scattered—

"I will," he assured her, detecting an increasing anxiety. "I promise, I'll be home soon."

"I love you, Taichi."

Guilt sprung forward, impeding the words on his tongue, trying to convert the reciprocation into a confession. But he swallowed the uncomfortable feeling and forced himself to the finish. "I love you too, Hikari," he said, five seconds later.

He hoped she'd think nothing of the short pause preceding his reply.

As soon as the smartphone was returned to his pocket, Mr. Kurosawa took a step forward. "Was that Hikari?"

Taichi nodded.

"You," murmured his wife. "Y-you—she doesn't know?"

He couldn't look at Marie in the face, afraid to see if she was upset with him. After all that talk on fighting for their future, sacrificing innocence instead of coddling them, struggling to move forward in this hopeless environment, Taichi was certain Mrs. Kurosawa's opinion of him had turned sour.

"I... It's just…"

Refusing to tell anything to his own sister… it was equivalent to shoving up everything he said up someone's anus, making him look like the bad guy—the villain who'd gladly sacrifice anyone who wasn't nowhere near his inner circle, just because he had the authority and the power to do so.

Mr. Kurosawa saw this the instant Taichi faltered. "Isn't her partner strong?" He was turning purple, loathing the way the Child of Courage ate his own words right in front of them. "I thought we 'needed to all the firepower we can get'!" he mimicked his words and intonation, making a mockery of the sales pitch he threw at Junas's wife. "Why isn't Hikari participating in the operaition?"

"Because she'll never approve it!" He stood head-to-head with Junas, glaring into his eyes as they bore into his own. "You know what we're doing tonight and I don't need to remind you how dangerous it is."

"Yes, so why—

"_Pyramid _will hurt our reputation whether it succeeds or not."

"How?" he contested. "It can't be that much lower than what we've been reduced to!"

"Junas, the second we begin the operation we'll have become no different from the Muslims trying to bomb the United States." Brown orbs panned the hallway, peering into Junas's, Marie's, and Falcomon's eyes one by one. All were listening to him, waiting to see how the legendary Taichi Yagami would climb out of his own trap. "Everyone participating in _Pyramid_ knows this.

"Win or lose, **people will die. **The battlefield isn't a place for the innocent. It isn't for the faint-hearted. Hesitation can be the difference between life and death!"

"Then why do you insist we bring Ai and Mako along when _you_ just admitted _Pyramid_ isn't—

Taichi's rebuttal was instantaneous. "Because they're desperate—they're not innocent anymore. Hikari still has ideals to cling to and I don't want her to lose them."

He noticed Ai and Mako were playing in the living room, with Impmon running after one of the two in an attempt to tag them. Seeing them play a children's game depressed him, for it only conjured an illusion of normality, a façade of happiness fated to dissipate upon its end, returning its participants to a place no semblance of familial unity could ever hope to lift them from despair.

"Innocence and idealism." He maintained his eye contact, drawing from the reserves of his inner strength to glare at the couple without wavering. "We lost it all."

He turned to Junas and Marie. "You."

Ai and Mako. "Them."

Agumon. "Him."

"And me."

Taichi gazed back at Ai and Mako's parents, his soft voice verbalizing a statement he did not want to admit to anyone, not even his own sister. "Many in the Digidestined are just as miserable as we are, Junas. All willing to throw away everything just to be happy. To give the people they love a better future.

"Can you blame me if I want to protect those who still have some dignity left?"

* * *

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First Chapter Break, at 17.2K word count.

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* * *

A pair of red eyes gazed at the fire escape. Seven steel gratings hung precariously off the side of the building, spread vertically apart by ten feet and connected by a ladder that seemed to shake in the gusts of wind traveling through the alleys.

Veemon stood on the edge of the roof, peering down at the grate. Or _through_ it, rather. He gazed at the concrete over eighty feet down and the sight of the ground so far below unnerved him. Scared him into a hesitating cesspool of irrational fear.

Daisuke would tease him **for life** if he had been here to witness the first time his digital half glanced at the sight waiting below him and emerged from the experience with legs quivering like jelly.

That this occurred right after a near-death experience from fifteen stories in the air would not help his defense, even if it supplied a valid reason as to why the Digimon of Miracles suddenly developed a mild case of acrophobia.

"Veemon, that was **not** a near-death experience."

His throat released a frustrated grunt, telling the speaker he was still irritated over the way his nauseating discomfort was dismissed.

Christopher Van Numen took a deep breath… and choked.

A small, mischievous smile formed on his muzzle.

Coughing, "Dammit, it smells **so** horrible."

"Be a man, Chris, and stop complaining. It's what Daisuke would do." Veemon scrunched his eyes for a quick pause. "I think."

"Easy for you to say," the blond snapped. He looked back at him, eyeing the clear beads of viscous liquid Chris' hands were flicking away from his face. "Thanks to that tongue bath you just gave me, **everything** smells like barf!"

"I _warned _you," Veemon blew a raspberry. "But did you listen? Nooooooooooo..."

"Dude, your morning breath is a hundred times better than _this_."

"Live with it," he advised. Veemon planted his hands on the two-foot railing and climbed onto the grating. It shook underneath his weight, sending jolts of residual fear up his spine. "It's—it's not like you're going to die." He stared at Christopher, just so he could keep himself from looking down.

The platform he stood on eliminated their height difference.

"Okay, okay," Chris acquiesced, catching up to the blue dragon. "Sheesh." A muted whisper followed his remark. "Note to self: never test Veemon's patience."

The Chosen snickered and ruffled the blond hair. "That's a _good_ boy."

"Pfft." His goldenrod eyes rolled like yellow balls. "Whatever."

Veemon paid no attention to him; he snuck another peek at the ladder, shivering at the thought of going down on something that looked so worn from age and disuse, he half-expected it to fall off the moment it wobbled.

_I do __**not**__ want._ He turned to the blond patiently waiting for him to start climbing down. At least he wasn't complaining. Veemon pointed a finger at a doorway on the other side of the roof. "Soooo, why can't we just go down _that_ way?"

"Because people might see us," Chris casually replied.

He forced his neck down, pushing his gaze to the shut windows guarding every level of the route. "And **how**is the fire escape any different?"

"Oh." The blond leaned over the railing and peered through the mesh, dawdling. "Umm, I guess—err—well I'm sure we can just sneak past them!" He beamed.

_Can't argue with that._ "I… I sup, pose…"

"Good thing they're not adjacent to the ladders, hehe."

"Y-yeah," He was running out of excuses. "Very good thing. Right." Christopher was firm on descending this way, and the only thing stopping him now was this fledgling fear of heights. Veemon ogled the blond one more time and cringed from the expectant gaze those goldenrod pools were giving him.

"What're you waiting for?" Chris asked, jerking his cheek at the ladder.

"I, I-I, uhhhhh…" Veemon perspired as he approached the opening, taking his seat at the edge. Hands groping the parallel sides.

All the junk scattered across the alley drew his gaze. He gulped. They looked **so small** from up here.

"Go already! We don't have all day."

"_Wait_!" Veemon almost yelled at him for his impatience. "I'm just getting ready—

The blue dragon was unprepared for Christopher's next words. "Vee, don't tell me you got spooked by that jump."

He recoiled at the taunt, annoyance fueling his grip on the bars. This was _definitely_ the wrong time to fool around. The Chosen turned towards Chris and opened his mouth to protest, only for the words to fade off into oblivion when he saw the serious look on his face.

Chris was _not_ in the mood for jokes, either.

Noticing Veemon's words were stuck in his throat, the man climbed onto the grating himself and went a few steps down the ladder, stopping only when his shoulders were level with the opening. "What're you doing?"

"Get on."

"What?"

"Get, on." He glared at the Chosen.

Staring at the ground again, "Eeehhhhh…"

"I got you. C'mon."

The reassurance was persuasive enough to convince Veemon into sitting down on Chris' shoulders and riding him as he descended the ladder. As he anticipated, the entire thing shook with every step Christopher made on the rungs.

Since Veemon didn't need to do anything _except_ sit on the man's shoulders, cross his feet below his neck, and clutch the blond hair with a grip so tight he'd most likely pull out clumps of it if he was unlucky enough to fall, he examined the fire escape during the descent.

It was every bit as flimsy as he expected. Had Daisuke been obsessed with architecture rather than food—ramen, in particular—Veemon would've learned enough to guess the building did not comply with regulatory standards and whoever was contracted to do the job had probably brought the construction materials straight from China.

As it turned out, the Digimon of Miracles was not privy to the ways of the construction business. Clinging to Chris like they were up in the air again, falling from the sky with nothing to hold onto but each other, Veemon spent every trip down a ladder swearing he'd never use these vile devices again unless he _really_ had to.

Time passed by quickly. The blue dragon did not notice they were already at the lowest platform until Christopher Van Numen had stopped and set him down on the grating, scrutinizing the alley for a cushioned landing.

Veemon, no longer quaking in unreasonable dread (for there was an _obvious_ difference between ten feet and eighty), approached the metal railing to examine their choices.

Choices limited only to a pile of stinking garbage bags filled with refuse and other unmentionables. Either that or… well, there _was_ the solid ground.

But, given all the rotting trash scattered across the alley, the lesser evil was obviously—

Chris made the choice for them this time, leaping over the railing with abandon. "C'mon!"

Not wanting the humiliation of staying up there looking like someone who couldn't discern black from black—_or a fool_, his thoughts interjected, the Chosen followed.

One would think Veemon, being the Digimon of Miracles, was a magnet for good luck. Such biased notions would certainly agree with his track record back in the day.

None of them could've predicted the misfortune crashing into Veemon as he swung himself over the rails. Lady Luck seemed to have gone out and went on a random walk across the neighborhood; otherwise, his foot wouldn't have struck the steel bars.

He wouldn't have descended those ten feet rolling in the air.

And he _definitely_ wouldn't have planted his face in the middle of the pile two seconds later.

Of course it didn't help the little horn on the tip of his snout was sharp enough to tear through the plastic, overwhelming his sinuses with a stench so hideous he could not even begin to describe it. It reeked so badly he'd sooner seek sweet relief from a toilet bowl filled with feces than keep his nose buried in crap—that wonderful, catch-all word for things he did _not_ want to know.

Veemon squealed, pushing himself out of the pile. "PEEEEEYYYEEEWWWW!" Vigorously rubbing the base of his horn with disgust written all over his muzzle, he coughed and coughed until his flabby tongue was threatening to fall off his mouth as it dried in the stale air. "Acghk—gross!—smells like two Numemon making love in—

Christopher burst into howls of laughter, no longer caring that the building's residents could hear them (for they would merely write him off as a homeless lunatic if they did). "And I, do NOT smell a thing!"

One of his eyes twitched. "You _could_'ve picked a better spot than"—he whipped his arm towards the entire passage.—"this!"

"Mmmmmmaaaybe," the man smirked. "If everything **still** didn't smell like your vomit…"

So jumping in a pile of garbage bags had been a _deliberate_choice. Chris must've spotted the pile of trash hanging underneath the last platform (while Veemon was too distracted) and used it as **payback**.

"Hmmph!" He crossed his arms. The scowl he made might as well have been a pout, since it did nothing but widen Chris' grin.

Moments like this often gave Veemon headaches. Just how could someone be perceptive and mature at one time and be _this _exasperating in another?

Little did the dragon know this same question had been asked multiple times by those _he_'_d _driven up a wall.

What irony.

* * *

"Chris?"

Christopher ogled the digimon clinging to his torso, wondering what he was thinking now.

Cleaning themselves up after the drop wasn't a terrible ordeal. Both human and dragon escaped ground zero and patted the dirt off their clothes once they were on their feet. Icky liquids and other nauseating filth were wiped on the walls, though all the good it did for them was eliminate the foreign feeling on their skin.

They were likely to carry the stench of bags and bags of noisome rubbish out the alley, but Chris expected it to dissipate as they kept walking. After all, it's not like they soiled their garments and rolled in the garbage like crazy screwballs with a fetish for the most putrid and revolting things.

The man had to carry Veemon away from the place, approaching a more spacious and _less_ cluttered section of the alley. He glanced at the Chosen—sitting on one of his arms, he had buried his muzzle close to his shoulder, _intentionally _inhaling his scent like it could displace the malodorous fumes.

Even when he spoke he did not turn his head towards him. _Whatever went in his nose must've been _that_ bad._

"Yes, Vee?"

"Do you think, anyone saw us?"

"Saw us?"

He took a deep breath. "We went pretty far when we jumped from that room—

"Ahhhh."

"—and it's not hard to see us falling up there and hear me _screaming_. So, do you think we—

"Unlikely."

The dragon's silence demanded elaboration. "If we _were_ noticed, I'd think our 'witnesses' would do a double-take before looking in our direction again." He chortled. "And by then"—whisking his free arm—"Whoosh! We're gone, bastards!"

"Gone rolling on a roof." Veemon burped. "Ugh, don't remind me."

Stillness usurped their conversation. Everything was quiet, save for the busy echoes of pedestrians and vehicles echoing in Tokyo's atmosphere and the solid footsteps Chris made during his pace.

The alley eventually yielded to a more capacious path. Small by urban standards but large enough for several people and small vehicles to ply simultaneously. Human life was uncommon in this part of the neighborhood, or else Christopher would've encountered at least one person already.

Veemon raised his head after another minute, sensing the different setting and its ostensible lack of revolting things. Chris bent down to set him on his feet. His head had been prickling with the thought Veemon wanted to start walking again.

If he was wrong, he'd put him down anyway. The blue dragon could walk, and more importantly, Christopher had problems with the idea of being someone else's ride. What was he, a horse?

Hell no.

Thankfully, his three-foot charge didn't seem to have a problem with walking. He didn't know _what_ he'd do if Veemon whined like a kid again, abusing a cute expression the dragon _knew_ was so irresistible Chris felt guilty whenever he tried to force it. Before they parted, however, curiosity tugged at him.

If Veemon smelled like a mix between wet earth and leather, he pondered… what about himself?

Human nature, being innately egotistic, had a common habit of propagating the desire to probe oneself. In any way possible. Children often asked questions related to their bodies, perhaps those that would've been embarrassing in later memories. Teenagers—and adults—were most curious of their looks, of their personalities. Of foibles seen by others but rarely themselves on their own.

"Vee," Chris said, receiving the dragon's full attention. Ears ready to hear what he had to say.

What he had to say was a stupid, immature request. Unrelated to the mission. Useless as anything but a piece of information that would never see the light of day if not specifically sought after. "How do I smell like?"

"Why?"

"Eh, I'm just, curious."

They continued walking, giving the digimon some time to entertain his silly thirst for useless things.

"Blood."

Christopher gawked at Veemon, surprised to hear what he just said. "Huh?"

"You heard me. Blood. And a _lot_ of it. You practically reek of never-ending fighting. Of constant danger."

"How _nice,_" he scowled, enunciating the second word with the bitterness of someone who was struggled hard only to reap worthless rewards and eternal ridicule. _I had to open my mouth._

"Like," the dragon went on, "You'll kill me when I least expect it."

"You don't need to explain."

Veemon ignored him. "But when you get used to it…"

Chris snapped his face in the Chosen's direction. "I just said—" He would've shut him up if he didn't see the grin breaking out on the white muzzle.

"…there's something else!"

"Something else?"

"Yup!" He nodded. "And it's reeeaaaalllly subtle." Without warning, Veemon took Chris' hand and smelled the palm as if it held drugs to snort.

The blond cringed, pulling his hand away, unnerved—he should have asked first. Chris was certain the blue dragon needed a refresher course on manners and social etiquette. He would've given him one on the spot if he hadn't been so enraptured by curiosity. "And?"

"Smells like the ocean." His rictus was wide and clear.

Flatly, "Really."

"_Really_!" Veemon retorted. "And _that _tells me you're Asian, like all my friends here in the Real World!" He shut his eyes, conveying an odd combination of relief and joy. "Soooo, looks like that story of you being Singaporean checks out, eh?"

Chris let out a snort.

"Whaaaat?" He blinked. "What did I say?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm _not_ from Singapore."

Tilting his head, "Huh?"

"That's just a little lie I gave _those three_ just so they'd get off my back."

He wilted from disappointment. "Ooohhhhhhhh."

"Cheer up, buddy. You got the 'Asian' part right."

Veemon's sagged muzzle brightened. He hummed happily, and for a moment there, Christopher Van Numen thought he was going to start a long-winded series of guesses on his ethnicity. Before the blond could regret what he did (and _thankfully_ _before_ Veemon could start pestering him with annoying prattle), the next corner they rounded was in full view of the road.

An _actual_ road.

With vehicles!

With pedestrians!

"_Finally_!" cried the Digimon of Miracles, suddenly dropping everything and making a beeline for the street.

Why he would do something so annoying **and** reckless perplexed Christopher, but as the little dragon ran in front of him he noticed something terribly wrong with this innocent—childish glee.

"Not so fast!" The blond reached out to stop the childish digimon in front of him. Thank God—thank effing God Christopher's right hand managed to catch Veemon's tail and reel him in before it was too late.

Truly, his superhuman reflexes were amazing.

Veemon did **not** share this appreciation.

"OH NOES!" He fell down, face first, and as soon as he was able, he twisted his neck as much as he could while rubbing his sore muzzle (for the snout is a weakpoint of most animals. Digimon weren't excluded from this) and sent Christopher Van Numen one of the most irritated glares he had ever given him. A snarl similar to that of an intimidating dog rumbled in the dragon's throat, lips curling to reveal sharp canines.

"CHRIS, WHAT WAS **THAT** FOR?"

Instead of answering him like he would an equal, Christopher lifted him upside-down, holding him by the tail. "HEY!"

Veemon was on the brink of thrashing his body and exacting sweet revenge on the blond. He could see it clearly in the twitching eyes, the outstretched tail, and the body that quivered from irritation so strong it was comparable to blind rage.

To prevent anything ugly, all he did was point at the utility belt. At the baldric running diagonally across Veemon's chest. He even pointed at the SIG P239 holstered in the pouch designed for handguns.

"You can't just go out there with **all that** in plain sight."

As soon as he finished his sentence, all that anger, all that frustration, coloring Veemon's face and invectives, vanished. Poof! Gone without a trace. Leaving behind a distinct blush on the white muzzle and a stunned expression that gave away the possibility the digimon was mentally slapping himself in the face multiple times at this very moment.

"W-w, well," stammered the dragon. He thrust his finger at Christopher's cerulean coat. The silver gun on his waist. The block of metal stuck in his garter like a second pistol. The bracer on his forearm. The white staff strapped to the back. Veemon dared ejaculate, "Look who's talking!"

Was he trying to compensate for this embarrassment, for this humiliating lapse of judgment, by turning it around on him?

_Such a child._

Chris rejoined his exclamation with a smirk. It and the glint in his goldenrod pools seemed to scoff at him, deriding the dragon for forgetting why he's the winner of this minor quarrel.

Blue coated his eyes. With one touch from his left hand, everything Veemon pointed out disintegrated, minute particles feeding into the azure gemstone adorning the bracer. Everything… except for the staff, the vest, and, obviously, the R-Scanner itself.

"Problem solved!"

"Unless you happen to _like_ what you're looking at," grumbled the Chosen, "can you please put me down? **Now**? I got your point."

Chris, stone-faced, set his captive down and released him, but not before giving those white cheeks a pinch or two. "Banter aside, don't forget: I just saved your ass. Sorry I was a little rough."

He nodded, still irate at the human but, at the same time, bound to gratitude for what he did.

Clearing his throat, "So, Vee, what'cha think?"

Those two red eyes squinted at him. The dragon's body language denoted a lingering ire, staining his every action even if it was merely a brief inspection.

With only a white shirt and a black, cargo vest over it, combined with the dark pants he wore, Chris already knew Veemon's answer was going to be…

"Ordinary."

Chris wanted to gloat, but Veemon overtook his mouth, raising a finger at the staff now strapped to the vest. "But you forgot _that_."

He shrugged in resignation. "Eh, can't do anything about that. Scanner can't digitize it for some reason." Chris then tapped the nylon baldric wrapped around his companion. "Now, want my help, too?"

"Duh."

* * *

No grudges were harbored when the blue dragon trooped to the road uplifted by the enthusiasm of a hiker lost in the battlefield of evolution for a week before reuniting with the comfort and familiarity of civilization.

Veemon actually appreciated Christopher's intentions. In retrospect, he was right. Given how irrational and obsessed with self-preservation humans could be, if he had blindly bowled into the street sporting a gun on the waist, smelling like he'd rolled in the musk of a rotting corpse, the pedestrians weren't going to tolerate him.

And that was putting it mildly.

Veemon couldn't have known people were far more likely to scream in terror and run away the moment they laid eyes on a potentially rogue SCAI with a gun, cuteness be damned.

Indeed the blond had "saved his ass", to borrow his words.

But did he really _have_ to pull him up by the tail like some kind of animal? Or even a child?

The Chosen knew he was childish. Mischievous. Immature, even. But that did _not _mean he should've been treated as if he had no dignity, as if he had no established identity. Certainly Christopher had no rights to treat him like a clueless kid who didn't know any better.

By the glory of the Harmonious Ones, he was ten years old already!

Bits and pieces of his outrage still resided in him, and they did nothing but sting his heart and compel his wide, red eyes to throw nasty glares at the man trailing behind him. Chris probably gave his angry stares some notice, but the man said nothing and followed the dragon wherever he went.

Trust was implicit in his every step.

Trust in Veemon's forgiving nature. (He _did_ receive an apology.)

Trust in Veemon's friendliness. (It seemed stupid to shun someone for acting in _his_ best interests.)

And trust in Veemon's familiarity with the "lay of the land". (He _lived_ in this city.)

Such trust was well-founded, drawn from their friendship. It was short, but in the four days they spent together the two of them were as tight as a pair of boys who'd been seatmates in school for three months.

So it was rather shameful for Chris to discover firsthand his faith in the blue dragon's knowledge of the bustling metropolis had been completely useless to begin with.

Apartments and mid-rise office buildings in dire need of maintenance surrounded them. A few blocks away, the Digimon of Miracles jotted down on a mental map the small, dilapidated shopping malls close to being abandoned by its tenants, driven out of business by a harsh, survival-of-the-fittest environment.

These unsightly structures blocked the view of Mt. Fuji's majestic peak. Combined with the fact they were standing **not** in a major thoroughfare but in a narrow street, Veemon had no choice but to admit defeat.

_We're in Shibuya. _

He was only familiar with the major roads here. Not the little alleys and side streets spread out throughout the ward like capillaries. If only he knew how to get to 109...

"I don't know this part of Tokyo," the Chosen hung his head, his zeal deflated.

Solutions to their problem weren't coming to mind, and anything he came up with was looking more ridiculous by the second. One of the more sensible options was a quick evolution to Lighdramon or Fladramon, rushing through the streets or leaping from rooftop to rooftop like some otherworldly, parkour addict. Another was the exploitation of his companion's superhuman abilities: convenient, fast, and, best of all, no walking for him!

Both floundered in the face of reality.

Evolution was impossible without Daisuke. The idea was written off. No elaboration needed.

Christopher was bound to attract unwanted attention. The idea was discarded for its consequences: thoughts of videos going viral or fending off pursuers from the Digital Suppression Initiative repelled the dragon instantly.

Said blond caught up with him, goldenrod eyes scanning the roads, looking for something to help. Veemon didn't notice at the time, but people focused their eyes on him as soon as he emerged from the alley. Passersby on the sidewalk gave the dragon a careful, if not _paranoid_, glance before picking up the pace…

…or crossing the street.

Had he seen this, perhaps the Digimon of Miracles would've been more prepared for the horrors he would witness later that day.

Not until later that night would he truly appreciate Christopher's presence. If it wasn't for him, he could've gone mad—lost all hope not only in finding Daisuke but in realizing the dreams they shared and strived for.

"Maybe the street signs can help?" he overheard his companion's subdued whisper.

_Street signs?_ He blinked. Resisting the urge to stupidly collapse on the polluted sidewalk as if his entire life had been one giant animé series from day one, a pair of crimson orbs fluttered from one post to the next, giving the characters a passing glance until…

渋谷駅.

Shibuya Station.

An arrow pointing to the southwest indicated the right direction. Veemon stood on his toes to look for any known landmarks, but even if he had asked Christopher to let him stand on his shoulders he wouldn't have seen anything.

_This will be a looooong walk._

At least they had somewhere to go! He found his blond friend loitering close by, eyes still wandering as if he was watching out for the dragon… or looking for something to help his search.

Veemon disregarded this and bounced to him, clutching his hand and tugging it in the proper direction. "Chris!" he bubbled. "There's a train station close by. If we go there, maybe we can find our way out of Shibu"—now the goldenrod eyes darted around the street, bearing an aura of purpose.

And confusion.

"Errrrrr, you even listening?"

"A _train station_?" wondered the man. "Vee, where'd you get that?"

He blinked. Crumpled brows, a look of utter surprise, and his gaping mouth all spoke volumes of the emotions running through Veemon. "Are you blind?" he gawped. With slow, deliberate paces, he singled out the sign he'd been looking at and raised a finger to emphasize it (and indirectly hurl an insult at his friend). "That sign says so."

Veemon watched Christopher approach the sign with wide eyes, as if he was in awe. "Ohh?" He felt nothing but shame for him when he was inane enough to actually ask, "**That's** what it's saying?"

Out of embarrassment and shock, Veemon succumbed to his cultural instincts. He slapped his own face and let his jaw slacken and plummet as much as it can to the ground. His pupils shrunk so much it would be difficult for anyone to find the slightest stain of red amidst the white of his eyes.

The dragon's tongue was frozen stiff, refusing his mind's instructions to mutter the horrified words seeking articulation. It took ten, long seconds for him to find his voice, to trigger the muscles in his throat. "C-c-can't, can't you read?"

Christopher did not answer his question. In fact, the man did not reply, let alone show any indication of hearing the Chosen's question except for a brief flash of blue in his goldenrod eyes.

Again he was reminded of the Realm Scanner, of the powerful computers encased within the indestructible bracer on the blond's arm. Controlled by one's own mind. What he was doing was beyond him, for the azure sheen coating his eyes seemed to flicker every few seconds, as if Chris dug through the configurations of his computer. Perhaps attempting to access the most abstruse programming of certain functions.

Scarlet orbs on the man's visage, Veemon watched a frown appear on his lips followed by a soft grunt that sounded more like a curse hurled against the heavens than an incoherent groan. A little more time passed before blue yielded to yellow, accompanied by a disgruntled whimper.

"So, Christopher," the dragon raised the question again, having regained his composure during the past five minutes, "you _can't_ read?"

Silence.

Thinking it as a wordless confession, Veemon gaped. "Whaaaat! I know you're not from here, but how? **HOW** can't you understand _this_"—he gestured the sign, still ignorant to the cautious and daunted stares of the passersby—"when we've been speaking in pure _Nihongo_ all this time! You even sound native to me, like you've lived with it all your life—

"Is **that** how it sounds like to you?"

"Can you explain why I'm so surprised you can't even read three simple characters?"

But Chris cut him off before the sixth word could escape his snout. "Wait a minute!" His eyes dilated like something important was coming back to him. Something apparently held close to his heart, judging from the nostalgia washing his eyes. "We're TALKING in Japanese?"

Veemon recoiled from this immature announcement. Was Christopher so unaware of his own tongue and ears he hadn't realized he was speaking in the digimon's language since the day they met? Or was the man ignorant? Or was he just **stupid**?

"So, s-so," Chris was stammering, becoming childishly giddy. "That means I'm in—I'm—"

The blue dragon did not hear his stuttering shouts. Had he been paying attention, he would've been as flabbergasted as Commandramon was; "Christopher" and "childishly giddy"were the last two things he'd expect in the same sentence. "Yeah!" he snickered. "Didn't you notice this last week?"

Veemon's eyes widened at the negative gesture he received in reply. "Wow," he heard Chris mutter. "I cannot—

"Well believe it, mister!"

"But Veemon—

"There! You just said it!"

"Eh? Said what?"

"The _kun_ honorific!"

"Nnnnn-no, I didn't."

"Oh yes you did!"

"Vee..."

"See? There it is again!"

"Uggh," he groaned. "Fine, whatever. _Kun-kun-kun_. Like I give a damn."

Even if Christopher was being an idiot, his use of _kun_ challenged the things he'd been told while the two of them were contributing to the restoration efforts of the satellite base, with the blond conveniently out of earshot.

Veemon wasn't ignorant; he could easily tell Commandramon abhorred Chris deeply, and many of the other digimon were wary whenever the Chosen wasn't within ten feet of him. Inquiries into it led to accusations of Christopher being a cold, calculating manipulator, one who had used the late Centarumon's comrades—Veemon's own friends in the base—as shields and decoys during the Midnight Assault.

The allegations never made sense to him. Christopher Van Numen kept him away from harm like any loyal comrade. Like a real friend. Sure, there were some tense moments (particularly in the barracks) but in the end, the blond made his decision and chose to work with him.

If the amicable honorific he used on Veemon indicated anything, it was certainly an emotional attachment and a level of trust, to which his sentiments were mutual. He could be counted on when push came to shove, right?

Right?

Veemon chortled happily. "Hmmm, that _still_ doesn't explain why you're illiterate."

The Chosen would never learn, not until later—days later—that Christopher's usual reactions to insults and teases were so savage it involved crushing windpipes and yanking out tongues. But, lucky as he was to be among the few privileged enough to do these sorts of things to him, the offended glare the blond replied with was still a frightening one. "You really think I'm illiterate?"

He waved at all the signs around them. Not just the one directing travelers to Shibuya Station, but all the signage along the street. "Can you read _any_ of those?"

"No."

A triumphant smirk appeared on his muzzle. Veemon crossed his arms. "I rest my case."

Chris chuckled. "**Just** so you know, I understood all those engravings in your room."

Blinking, "On the walls?"

"On the walls."

"Seriously?"

Eye contact was established. "Seriously."

At this, Veemon _blushed_. A deep red colored his cheeks, like a very personal secret he'd been hiding from everyone in his circle, even the other Chosen, had been pulled out and read like an open book.

It really **was** a "very personal secret".

Nobody should've understood any of it. Nobody! He had written it all to vent the frustrations and despairs inconceivable for the permanently cheerful, happy, and innocent Veemon everyone knew.

Everything, encrypted in a foreign language indecipherable to most, so any who asked would be misled with excuses of doodling, drawing, and perhaps the rebellious disposition Daisuke once displayed in his early teen years.

Not even Wormmon knew what it meant: a result of mere contentment with Ken by his side like a shadow. None of the four Chosen Children in the Digital World—who probably could've comprehend the written words—had ever been in his room for that matter, save for three days ago when the Digimon Tactician came in to pick up Wormmon.

But Ken was too concerned with the leaked information and Christopher's snooping to even spare a closer glance at the writing. Said blond, however, had all the time to scrutinize them, especially in the four days following the Modifiers' defeat. While Veemon was fast asleep.

He obviously had this coming.

Veemon broke the eye contact and stared down at the sidewalk. "You can read English…"

"Can speak it too."

No reply.

"Grew up with it, actually."

The Digimon of Miracles remained quiet, bleeding from the wound Chris inflicted on his privacy. He may have had it coming, but that did not dilute the fact it hurt.

He did not notice the man pat his back. "Look Vee," he began, commencing a short speech on how he didn't really mean to pry into someone else's business. Chris proceeded from there to an expression of sympathy. Relating to the dejection the digimon experienced as the months passed, as Daisuke's promise faded into obscurity and the reality of war and human animosity descended into the fray. A dream long gone, replaced by wishes for normality.

Or rather, Chris would have spoken all these if Veemon did not choose to forget about this invasion. The man had been thoughtful enough to keep the secret to himself, even if it was wide open for his eyes to see, read, and comprehend. Besides, considering how close they've gotten over the past three days, Veemon figured it was only a matter of time before he unloaded this weight off his chest.

Having a friend to talk to about one's problems clearly made a difference, even if the initial discussion never occurred in the first place.

With these thoughts in mind, the Digimon of Miracles interrupted Christopher's apology. "It's okay," he dismissed. "I don't mind it if it's you." Veemon gave a smile as genuine as the wagging of his thick, blue tail. One the blond responded to in kind.

_Would've been better if it was Daisuke though_, the thought lodged itself in the back of his mind. Partner or not, that brunette needed to at least feel guilty for what he did, to know how much he suffered in the years they've been separated.

A penchant for mischief compelled the dragon to shelve it into a growing mental list of things to do after his reunion. His propensity for _curiosity_, on the other hand, returned him to the other topic. "Since _that's _out of the way now, you said you can read English?"

Chris nodded.

"And you grew up with it?"

Another nod.

One finger pulled his lips down. "How're you even talking like a homegrown Jap when you"—then the dragon's eyes landed on the piece of equipment hugging the blond's arm.

Christopher didn't say anything, perhaps waiting for him to figure it all out on his own. He watched the digimon fall silent, letting the epiphany strike his blue head like a baseball bat slamming into a ball. _Ooooohhhhhh._

With a disbelieving shake of the head, Veemon rapped the silver bracer, incredulity present on his muzzle, making him stare at the blond stupidly. "There's a translator in there, isn't it?"

The man didn't fight back. "Hehe," the chuckle came out. "You got me."

"Wow." Even after Chris' admission he couldn't stop staring at the device on his forearm. "This thing's really awesome."

"I know, right?" the blond crowed. "Obviously, the Realm Scanner translates both ways: everything I hear turns into English; everything _you _hear is Japanese. In fact, if aliens from completely different planets were with us, you'd understand every word they said just by being near me—a hundred-meter radius, to be precise."

"Whoa. How does it work?"

"The R-Scanner has this _gargantuan_ database inside it. Every sound wave is encoded, processed, and if possible, decoded to the point it's understood by anyone within range. The science part has something to do with æther particles, but I'm no expert on it."

He began laughing. "I don't know how the computer's been programmed for this. I don't even know how large the database is! What I **do** know is: the files are so comprehensive, until now I've never encountered problems with language barriers."

"Hey!" The dragon piped, grinning playfully at him. "Ever thought of turning it off?"

Chris waved his hand in front of Veemon's muzzle. "Hello, language barrier? You insane?"

"But I'm curious!"

"Curious of what?"

"Are you dense? I studied English a little, FYI."

Christopher looked skeptical. "You actually _have_ the attention span for studying, really?"

"Don't believe me?"

"How can I when I've the impression all you did back then was run around, eat, and play?"

"Awww c'mon! Daisuke didn't have **that** much free time when he went to cram school."

"So you decided to read up."

"Yup."

"_Textbooks_."

"Yup."

"Seriously."

"I was bored!"

"Studying?"

"Reruns on TV all the time!" Veemon sulked. "Can't even play games! Parents snatched the consoles 'cause of his grades."

"Hmm."

"Now you believe me?"

"…I guess?"

"So turn this thing off." He rapped the gauntlet.

"No."

"Eh? Don't spoil my fun."

"Just not **now**, alright? Let's do this later, when we're settled."

"Hmph." Veemon rolled his eyes. "Killjoy." Then he scratched his muzzle, scrutinizing the Scanner. "Aaaannnnyway, now that I think about it," he began, letting curiosity lead him to another matter of interest. "If this thing's so good, why can't you read anything else? Can't it translate writing for you?"

"Hey I _never_ said it can't do that!"

"Then why?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know." His shoulders slumped, goldenrod eyes allowing consternation to seep in. "Ever since I arrived here, many of the Realm Scanner's functions have been grayed out. Rendered unusable."

Chris lifted his hands. "Can't use _Assault Mode_," he enumerated. "Can't update my databases, can't hack into computers, can't get the Subtitle Module to work and translate all written material, can't interface with the Realmstone.

"Can't reach the Green Aurora no matter how many times I try every morning…" Christopher's eyes were coated with a pitiful glaze, wet and threatening to break.

Veemon may not have understood a single thing coming out of his mouth, but his acute senses alerted him to the rising sadness in his words, in the inflections of each and every enunciation.

The Chosen was familiar with this kind of sadness: kin to the misery that accompanied those who slowly lost their grip on their convictions—on their hopes. Slipping away into despair.

"Probably related to the way I stumbled into your universe," Chris murmured.

If there was something Veemon wanted to do for Christopher, it was the desire to wrench his friend's mind away from his problems. Chris had done the same for him through their friendship, distracting the Digimon of Miracles from his dwindling faith in both his partner and humankind as a whole.

It just wouldn't be fair if he didn't do anything in return. Veemon thought he wouldn't even be a very good friend if he didn't at least respond in kind.

Before he could reply with a friendly prank, before the blue dragon could do something to pull Christopher away from his depressing thoughts, a thunderous crash to the side postponed his tongue and, letting his actions linger in the realm of intentions, compelled him to peer at the source.

Both goldenrod and scarlet eyes shifted to an alley on their side of the road.

Veemon's crimson orbs dilated at the sight of a small, white creature standing over a trash can. One it just toppled, as some empty bottles were still moving, rolling aimlessly after the rude awakening from their peaceful rest.

He ogled the two small wings on its back, the feathers as yellow as the V-shaped mark on his forehead. As the animal stooped into the pile of refuse, sifting through the noisome garbage, Veemon watched them flutter in delight. The wings were useless for flight, he observed, apposite instead for indicating emotions.

"A digimon," he muttered. Veemon couldn't help but forget about Christopher and bask—revel in the presence of another digimon in this city. "A digimon!" he whispered to Chris, agog. "Out here, in the open!"

He made a beeline for it, hoping he could speak with the creature, learn more about Tokyo, get specific directions to their destination, and hopefully, make another friend. The blond shuffled after him, letting him do what he wanted.

Veemon wondered what species it was as he approached the creature, taking in its humanoid shape and the funny-looking horn sticking out of its head, molded in the shape of an angel wing. He wondered about its personality, if it—_she_, the dragon reckoned—was affable. Was she the mischievous kind of digimon? Or the shy type?

His wandering thoughts vanished the moment he saw her short and stubby fingers pick up a discarded burger, bitten in several parts, stale, with a little mold growing on the bun. The moment she stuffed the disgusting garbage **into** her mouth.

He blanched at the sight. Disgust made him shudder. Disgust forced an astonished gasp to rush from his throat. How could she eat something as repulsive as a stale, rotting burger **from** the garbage? It was both unhealthy and demeaning. Nobody with respect for themselves—nobody who had an ounce of dignity would **ever** eat trash!

Even Numemon and Sukamon had standards. And _those_ digimon species were infamous for their reputation as the most squalid and putrid digimon in existence.

The Chosen's heavy footsteps and the shocked gasp his tongue couldn't help _but _release attracted the small angel's attention. "Pi?" he heard her mutter, the soft pitch confirming the presumptions of her gender.

"Hi!" Veemon raised his hand, giving her a pleasant wave or two. His muzzle formed a smile that would've melted the most hardened and insensitive people. A kind of smile Jun Motomiya loved seeing on Chibimon during the days before she herself became a tamer.

Instead of a similar gesture of amity, the small angel took a few steps back, her yellow eyes assessing him, growing wary at his shape and form. Frightened. "Cu, cupi…"

"Don't be scared," he said, slowing down. Veemon squatted on the sidewalk and inched closer to the small digimon. _She's probably in her second Baby level_, he guessed. _No wonder she's scared_. "Come on," he encouraged her, beckoning the creature to shake off the fear and come. "It's okay. Cooooooome here."

The blue dragon kept his lips curved upward in a cute smile. Jun once told him this had a tendency to disarm fear. To infect its victims with the urge to beam as well. "The name's Veemon. I'm a digimon, too, you know."

He grinned.

"Pi, cupi?" The digimon angled her head, standing still for a couple seconds. Veemon noticed the three circles dotting the rims of her eyes. "Picu?"

"'_Cupi_'?" verbalized the dragon, mimicking her. "Is your name Cupimon?"

Hearing her own name spoken made the small angel burst in a fit of excited squeals. "Cuu!" Cupimon waddled towards the Chosen, anxious to meet her new friend. "Cu, pi, picu pi!"

Crimson pools caught the two short arms held forward in his direction. Her fuchsia claws were spread apart, showing the baby digimon was ready to latch onto Veemon in an adorable hug. The Digimon of Miracles noticed the nauseating filth and dirt coating her entire body, the foul odor of garbage permeating the little angel threatening to overwhelm his sense of smell.

But that was not the only thing he noticed.

"CUUUUPPIIIII!"

As Cupimon plodded towards him, closing in with every step, Veemon was perceptive enough to notice something was amiss.

No. Something wasn't "just" amiss.

Something was _wrong_ here.

Something terribly wrong.

Something so disturbing shivers traveled down his spine.

.

.

**Why wasn't she speaking?**

.

.

In all his life, not once had he _ever_ met a digimon that couldn't talk! Even the Baby I digimon born in what was once Primary Village were capable of full speech, holding conversations of their own not only among themselves, but also with the Elecmon taking care of them.

Communication between digimon weren't organized by level the same way human communication was classified by age and IQ. They went by _maturity level_, not the capacity for vocabulary and dialogue. Veemon, for example, possessed a rich vocabulary and a benevolent and audacious personality across all his forms—from Baby I up to Ultimate. Typically the only variable here was his level of maturity. No explanation needed.

So why? Why were the only words coming out of Cupimon's mouth were syllables of her own name?

Still squatting, Veemon extended his hand and shortened the distance between him and the little angel without moving an inch from his spot. "You can understand me right?"

"Cu!" the white digimon replied, one step closer to the dragon's outstretched palm.

"Do you know where your partner is?"

Veemon was aware asking this question was a stupid one. Cupimon's filthy body, her sleek fur powdered with gray dirt and reeking of refuse and I-don't-wanna-know, made it clear she had been living in the streets for a while now, eating whatever she could, whenever she could.

In truth, this was an attempt to get her to talk. To guide her back to her voice, to words only intelligent creatures employed. To help her rediscover her ability to speak coherently.

Cupimon could only disappoint. "Pi pi!"

The Digimon of Miracles quivered. He shivered, muzzle shaking from the horror. _What __**happened**__ to her?_ "Say something, Cupimon," Veemon added, giving her one more chance. "I can't help you if you don't."

"Cuuuuuu picu!"

No use.

No use at all.

He withered in front of the tiny angel, the genuine smile on his muzzle morphing into a fake grin teetering precariously before a steep drop into the fold of reality. Veemon's saddened eyes, Veemon's flaccid tail, said it all.

Cupimon wasn't going to talk.

Cupimon **didn't** have the ability to.

At this point the digimon was just like the mindless animals back in the Digital World, existing without a purpose, wandering the world pursuing the most basic of needs. Veemon pitied the creature, literally losing her mind along with the human side of the equation.

His unwavering principles commanded the blue dragon to take the white Cupimon with them, where the Chosen at Mt. Fuji could do something about her "condition". He wanted to help her, to pull her towards happiness. No matter what happened, Veemon couldn't entertain the thought of turning his back on Cupimon.

Veemon kept his palm out, waiting for her to take the first step. _I'll help you_, he swore, sinking into the forgotten emotions he'd left behind in the Digital World. The unbearable grief that tore him apart in those three, long years. _You never should've been separated from your partner…_

.

.

Her light footsteps stopped.

Without warning, Cupimon froze. Fright possessed her yellow pools like a malevolent ghost sweeping through the night, enthralling its victims into zombies and paralyzing their minds. Veemon noticed the change immediately.

His sense of emotion as sharp as any animal in the Real World, Veemon **felt** Cupimon's fear passing through him, inaugurated by a tremendous impact not unlike the heart-stopping vibration of a thunderclap.

Eyes dilated and body quaking, Cupimon ogled the dragon.

_No_. Veemon realized he was wrong in seconds, for the white digimon's gaze penetrated him like he'd been a wraith.

Cupimon ogled the blond standing behind him.

The Digimon of Miracles gyrated, finding Christopher Van Numen several paces away. His goldenrod eyes were a deeper shade of yellow, gazing at the two curiously. Always observing. Even as he leaned back on a wall, letting Veemon finish his business. The expression on Chris' face was blank, though for some reason he seemed _interested_ in the outcome of this meeting.

Veemon heaved a sigh of relief. _And I thought it was the DSI or something._ "Meh," he dismissed the blond with a lazy wave. "That's just Chris." His smile revived. "Don't worry, Cupimon," he reassured the Baby digimon, strategically throwing her name. "It's alright. He's a friend."

He spared Christopher another glance. "**My** friend," His tail moved on its own, to and fro, punctuating the joy of a life that got brighter by the day: having an attentive companion _and_ the miraculous opportunity to find his human brother after three years of angst.

Once more Veemon extended a hand of friendship. The dragon expected his words to mollify the white digimon's fears, to silence the alarm bells droning in her little head. He held back his gasp as he watched every hope in his heart crumble.

Cupimon did not advance. She _backed_ away.

When she backed away, one puny arm was raised between her and the blue dragon almost three times her height.

Cupimon no longer trusted Veemon. She _frowned_, almost disapproving of the way he tolerated—he _permitted_ the blond to stand behind him.

"W, what's wrong?" he stammered. "_We're_ not going to hurt you, Cupimon. It's—

That's when he noticed the item clamped on one of her tiny, maroon claws.

A black ring in the shape of a spiral.

Veemon's scarlet eyes lurched to gawk at his arm, scrutinizing the dark spiral conspicuously attached. Despite the size, it was identical to Cupimon's in color, shape, and form. _Holy crap_.

"C,cu, cupi!"

He had completely forgotten about the Baby digimon in front of him!

Resisting the urge to slap himself, Veemon reverted his gaze back to the tiny angel, only to see her fleeing from him, wings fluttering in panic. "Cuuuuupi! Cupi-picu-piiiiiii!"

Then she vanished. Disappeared into the alley. Left who should've been a new friend stunned and at a loss for words.

"W-what, what just…?"

Veemon gazed into his palm, still outstretched to the air as if Cupimon had never left. Balked, "I… I." His eyes glistened, hurt by the sudden turn of events. "Never—I never did anything…"

"This isn't your fault, Vee."

Christopher went on his knees and swung an arm over his shoulder. He gave the dragon a supportive pat, but the digimon did not react. It could have been a more painful slap aimed at drawing him out of this stupor and Veemon wouldn't have noticed anyway.

"Cupimon had no reason—

"She was afraid of me," observed the blond. "_Deathly_ afraid."

Veemon ogled his friend. "I don't understand." Christopher was nicer around him. A kinder person. The frightening aura he often exuded, that unfeeling and callous intent to ruthlessly demolish all obstructions and the menacing air accompanying any assessments of his power, never came out as often as it did.

Not when he was with Veemon.

To add, he was dressed almost ordinarily. By appearance alone, Christopher looked **harmless**. Why would Cupimon run then?

It took a while before the Digimon of Miracles noticed the man had wrapped one hand over his and lifted it up, trying to get the Chosen to stand. "Don't you think," he postulated, tugging a few more times until Veemon yielded and rose to his feet, "she could be afraid of _humans_ in general?"

The conjecture made sense, but it couldn't satiate Veemon's desire for answers. "Because…?"

Chris shrugged. "I wouldn't know." He pulled Veemon back. Back towards the street. "Let's just go, Vee. We'll work something out sooner or later."

He was still immobile. Stunned from his experience and paralyzed by Christopher's idea swirling in his blue head.

Hearing the man grunt out his frustration (and did he just detect sympathy?), Veemon felt Chris' grasp on his palm firm as he was tugged away from the alley. He allowed it, letting his feet walk in the direction his arm was raised.

Veemon trained his eyes to his feet, not knowing what to think. Unable to process the events that just happened. Had he been more watchful of his environs, he might have observed the astonished stares other pedestrians were giving the two of them. He might have seen their horrified expressions, every passersby aghast to see a fellow human being holding the hand of something they considered a filthy animal instead of one end of a good, reliable leash.

He might have noticed the large road they arrived at, heavily occupied by the transient population. Driving in cars. Walking on the sidewalk. Or commuting via taxicabs. There were no bus stops here.

It took a minute of idle time and Chris' incessant questioning before Veemon's attention returned to reality and took in the surroundings. "Chris, where are we?" The dragon wrenched his hand away. "I'll _bite _you if you got us lost."

The stern look he gave Christopher prevented him from seeing the ostensible dread clouding the eyes of those who actually heard the dragon speak.

"Buddha, I hope that _beast_ isn't a Wild One," one person swore well away from Veemon's hearing, choosing to walk as far as possible. Perhaps with zero intention of alerting the DSI Peacekeepers, intimidated by the legalities involved: paperwork and wasted time.

"Hmph," he grunted, voicing his complaints in a hushed tone. "If the Scanner's maps weren't so limited we—whatever. Anyway," he turned to his shorter companion. "All I did was walk down the road like what that sign said!"

"Then _why_ are we here?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Beats me. Maybe there's another sign around here. I can't read the characters so I would have absolutely no effing idea—

"Oh no."

"What?"

Veemon pointed at a _heavily vandalized _street sign. It was almost impossible to discern the three familiar characters **and** the arrow pointing the way.

The both of them sagged. "We're screwed," they said, not aware they said the same exact line.

A few seconds passed. Several pedestrians brushed past them without sparing the blond and his dragon companion a curious glance.

"We wouldn't have this problem if my Realm Scanner worked properly," Christopher broke the silence, putting on the table not a suggestion or an idea, but a _complaint_. "I'd download a map of the place from the local networks here, have it translated, and—

"Oh well!" Veemon's suggestion disrupted his grumbling. "Guess we just have to ask for directions."

Chris stiffened at its mere propounding. "You serious, Vee?"

"Mmhm!"

"…You're a friggin' local."

"Well I've only been to Shibuya _once_ and that was **years** ago." Christopher opened his mouth at once but Veemon strengthened his voice before the man replied. "Look, my memory's photographic, but you're _really _out of your mind if you think I remember every little detail. It's not like something big happened here."

The blond snapped his lips shut with that remark, prompting the dragon to chuckle. _Heh, I knew it._ Then they parted, sheepishly spitting out a word so hushed it's as if he didn't want to speak after being put down so thoroughly. "I… didn't know you've got photographic memory."

"_And_ excellent recall," the Chosen added. "Most digimon have it!"

"That, too." Chris sighed. "So, what now?" He ogled the faceless passersby walking around them, minding their own businesses. "Just ask around?"

"Yeah."

"I know absolutely nothing about this place."

"So? I don't either and you don't hear _me_ complaining."

"B-But, you can read." He was running out of excuses.

"And that impedes you _how_?"

When Chris failed to reply, Veemon huffed. "Thought so."

"Right. Let's get this over with then." The blond stretched his arms before gazing at the dragon. "To maximize our chances of getting something _comprehensible _we'll have to"—he groaned, obviously seeing this as an additional chore he'd much rather do without—"split up and reg—

"Meet here after fifteen minutes, give or take?"

Christopher nodded. "Took everything straight from my head."

"Gotcha," Veemon acknowledged.

"Good luck." The blond walked away to the left, veering eastward. One wave of the hand was all Chris needed to bid farewell.

Veemon didn't need to wave back, but he did so anyway. "You too!" He hollered, causing Christopher to jolt as if his heart stopped beating for a moment. Then the blond went along and crossed the street, all the while shaking his head with what appeared to be an appreciative smirk etched on his face.

Was his innocent enthusiasm really so contagious? So adorable in its attempts to erode the dreary observations of life? Veemon did not know and neither did he care. Uplifted by his own fervor like a self-fulfilling prophecy, Daisuke's partner chose the opposite direction, opting to stay on the same side of the road.

A wide smile on his muzzle, Veemon did not expect any difficulty in getting directions from the numerous pedestrians plying the roads of Shibuya. Judging from the volume of human traffic and the sun blessing the sky with an orange glow only the word tranquility could describe, it looked like the end of any ordinary workday.

Even in the next block there didn't seem to be any change to the throngs of people and vehicles passing through. If there _was_ something different about this scene, it would be the random digimon he saw following their partners—their _tamers_, to use the Twelve's label for non-Chosen humans—out in the open, sometimes being openly carried in pairs of loving arms.

Many were Child-level. Others were in the Baby stage, at the second phase of development.

An eager Veemon did not bother hiding his zeal, letting his own smile infect his cheerful mood. _This'll be a piece of cake_. He was in the Real World now, no longer stranded in the Digital World languishing alone.

"_Self-conscious artificial intelligence,_" Wormmon's voice flowed into his memory, trying to drag him back to reality the way gravity tried so hard to pull down an orbiting satellite just beyond the reaches of the exosphere. _"SCAI. The DSI used these words to reduce us digimon to programs. Objects to __**dominate**__, unfettered from morals."_

Veemon ignored the portentous warnings from the Digimon of Kindness. That was the Digital Suppression Initiative. Even if it was a coalition of countless entities, individuals and organizations alike, surely the DSI did not represent humankind as a whole?

_People are awesome, Veemon_, he mentally prepared himself. _It's not like they all suck_.

Last week's battlefield came to memory, up on the mountain he first met Daisuke at, gesturing at battle-maddened soldiers fighting to slaughter one digimon after another while he and another one of his kind engaged in a different battle altogether. A combat of two opposing ideologies. _"Humans are __**not**__ enemies!"_ Veemon's fierce defense was still fresh on his tongue, even if it had been a week since its articulation. A week since his opponent's deletion. _"They can be _friends!_ How can I even kill ONE of them when my own partner's human?"_

It was not so much a test of his struggling faith in humankind as it was a test of Golemon's immobile truth. Of Wormmon's ominous caveats.

_People are awesome_, he repeated his mantra in his head and, eyeing a young man in his later adolescence, stepped forward to reach for the side of his shirt. He tugged at it.

"Hi!" he greeted, accommodating the man with the brightest smile he could muster. The type of smile he'd use on a furious Daisuke whenever he yelled at Veemon for his occasional mischief during their Digital World excursions, disappearing and subsequently ambushing his partner and licking him until his face was viscously drenched in saliva. (This was one reason why he preferred being Veemon over Chibimon.) "Can I ask you something?"

There was no reply.

He dawdled. "Errr, did you hear me?" Veemon tugged again at the shirt, this time getting its owner's attention. "I just wanted to—

**Slap**.

It happened instantly.

As soon as the male's eyes landed on the blue hand pulling on his clothing, his hand moved so fast it shoved Veemon's palm away with a forceful sound. Not loud enough to be heard by every person around them, but sufficient for his ears to catch it.

He swore he heard the human's lips hiss, as if mumbling a hushed expletive.

Thinking it was nothing, the Digimon of Miracles tried to reestablish contact and reached for the shirt again. "That hurt," he whined, going for sympathy this time around.

No amount of sympathy was sent his way. Veemon's hand was shoved away from the man's body when it entered his peripheral vision. "Tsst!" Shock brimming in his crimson eyes, Veemon watched the human walk _faster_, getting as far away from him as possible.

_What the— _

Suddenly he was aware of the wide berth every pedestrian gave him, walking at least two feet away, keeping their distance from the dragon.

_What's going on here?_

He eyed another crowd of people, loitering next to an intersection. Waiting for the green light. Veemon trotted towards them, hoping to get a different response. That teen was just a jerk, he thought. An uncaring, inconsiderate asshole who had no interest in dishing out a little kindness by helping a stranger in need.

There!

He found an older woman, whose stomach was beginning to bulge with the first signs of pregnancy, garbed in a cotton dress Veemon considered more dignified than the loose, torn clothing worn by the teen. When the Chosen made his way to the group of people, he observed the space they were giving him yet again.

Why were they doing this?

He wasn't dangerous! He wasn't going to hurt anyone! All he wanted was to ask a question or two. He just needed directions to Shibuya Station.

The Chosen closed in on the mother-to-be and tapped her exposed arm, not wanting to be ignored and brushed off this time the way the first person did. She was going to be a mom. A nice, sweet mom with kind, glittering eyes and a warm smile that banished all sorts of doubts the same way holy water cast out demons.

Who screeched in fright the second she locked eyes with the dragon's red pools, arms hovering protectively over her bulging gut, her own gaze trained on the spot Veemon touched her. Cold, stony orbs pierced him, blessing him with a glare that would've mutilated him several times over if they could.

Veemon approached her. "Excuse me," he began, letting his tongue work through the motions of an apologetic tone and the intended question, only for the mother-to-be to adopt a menacing grimace telling him not to cross her.

"Shoo!" she shrieked, whipping one hand away from her in a gesture that clearly said Veemon was not wanted. "Get away!"

Veemon reached for her once more. "I, I, I—j-just—I only wanted to—

He managed to touch her hand this time, hoping his warm, leathery fingers could calm her nerves, knowing Christopher always seemed happier during those nights Veemon slept next to him, hugging the older man like he represented his dying faith in humankind. A belief he could not let go no matter the cost.

Only to feel the future mother's tumult at the moment their hands met. "OH SHIT!" she swore, pushing him away. Veemon was paralyzed from shock, watching her rummage through her purse for something she had just for the occasion. "It touched me," she was muttering. "It effing touched me!"

Then she found it. A small bottle filled with a pink fluid that, when she opened it and poured a few drops over her hand, smelled a bit like white chocolate. Veemon couldn't help drooling at the odor, even when he took offense upon realizing what the delicious-smelling liquid was…

_Hand sanitizer._

Veemon frowned. "I'm not _that_ dirty!"

Green went the stoplight. The future mother sauntered away, keeping her distance like the crowd around him. "Filthy beast."

"Hey," he pursued the woman, feeling the annoyance rush to his muzzle.

The woman had pushed him away. Screeched at his very touch like a nutjob from the mental hospital. Wiped her hands clean like his fingers were dabbed in poison. Openly insulted him without consideration. And _now_ she was fleeing from him? Without an _acknowledgement_, let alone an apology?

How could she? Veemon accosted her nicely. Her body language exuded that soothing motherly aura. He was so convinced she was a different breed from the teen who shunned him, _never _expecting someone as decent as a mother—a future mother at that—to act so inhospitable.

What was he? A stray cat? A vagrant mongrel? A sorry existence meandering aimlessly in the city? Unloved and unwanted, ignored by any and all?

"You can't just walk away!"

The "nice, sweet mom"-to-be defied his outbursts, dismissing them as noise, ambling away without a single _look_ back at the blue dragon trailing after her feet. She seemed to move faster at the sound of his pitched voice.

Veemon never perceived the wide space he was being given now, never spotted the suspicious eyes spreading across the group in a fashion like that of an epidemic. Never heard the hushed whispers spoken between people, fearful sentences spoken amongst strangers.

"Buddha, that thing can talk."

"Doesn't it have a triband?"

"Maybe it's a Wild One."

Veemon's sharp hearing committed its greatest mistake, letting these words enter one side and out the other. He was just too focused too much on chasing his target, mind overwhelmed by the questions swirling within it. Chaotic feelings clouded his keen senses, barring the acuity that had proved indispensable for the Digimon of Miracles.

"Hey, you think there's a Peacekeeper nearby?"

"No, don't call 'em in! It could be one of _them._"

"A Digidestined?"

"But I feel sorry for it! Maybe we should—

"No! It's too dangerous. That _animal _can **kill** you."

If he wasn't so blinded by the turbulent furor challenging his worldview, if Veemon wasn't so stupefied by the riveting horrors unfurling before him, if the Chosen listened to the voices presaging the inevitable, perhaps he could have avoided the turmoil that followed. Perhaps he could have sought Christopher out right there, leaving it all behind.

Perhaps he could have saved himself from the crushing agony that now awaited him like a woman's flower blossoming, anticipating euphoria.

Or in Veemon's case, anticipating the stunner that would never leave his memory for as long as he lived.

"RAGH!"

A boot _slammed_ into Veemon's face just as he raised his speed, plowing into his muzzle with a force strong enough to make him wobble as he regained his footing. Stars glittering in his vision, white dots spiraling before his scarlet gaze, the Digimon of Miracles felt the warm trickle of blood drip from his mouth.

Someone had finally stood up to the monstrosity chasing the unfortunate woman burdened by pregnancy. Veemon idled in the middle of the street, unaware of the omen blinking on a steel pole, accompanied by a number counting down to oblivion. He wiped the red liquid off his lip. It did nothing to stop the bleeding, yet it did everything to perpetuate the astonishment rippling in his burgundy pools.

_Why?_

"Git, you f*cking piece of shit! GO AWAY!"

A small stone struck the V-shaped mark on his forehead, leaving a red mark in its wake. The strength invested in the throw was enough to scrape away the skin. "Yowch!"

Veemon winced, turning away for a single moment. When his gaze returned to the small group of people watching the exchange like any nosy and curious bystander would, he saw hateful glares being sent his way. Nobody wanted him. Nobody wanted to even talk to him.

He was a nuisance. A fly on the wall people wouldn't hesitate to squish.

Suspicion was evident in the pedestrians' gaze, loathing reverberating so strongly in their hearts even Veemon could feel it. If it was not for such strong, negative emotions, Veemon would have shrugged it off and walked away unperturbed instead of releasing the pitiful whimper of a defeated dog and backing away with saltwater gathering in his eyes.

Roars of engines thundering in his ears distracted him, alerting him of the vehicles coming in from the left, from the far side of the street.

The tires began to move. Drivers and passengers alike were stone-faced, indifferent to the prospect of running over a blue dragon the size of a ten year-old. Or, for comparison's sake, a young Labrador standing on its hind legs.

"Wah!" Veemon scrambled for the sidewalk. For salvation! Suddenly his quest for directions to Shibuya Station became a matter of life and death.

He had only taken three steps back when the black blur of a Mercedes Benz sped past him, almost ramming the digimon. Many more cars followed. None of them stopped for Veemon. He tried standing in-between lanes, only to find someone in a Kawasaki motorcycle approaching his position.

Its driver honked his horn in an attempt to scare Veemon off, but he had nowhere else to go. He gulped, hoping he wouldn't die from the collision. Then, at the last moment, the bike made a subtle change in its angle, allowing the motor vehicle to slide past him with **literally** inches away from death.

_Close one!_ He couldn't help but think.

But his thoughts came moments too soon, for the driver, enraged by the lowly beast that almost caused an accident, lashed a foot like a bucking horse and struck the back of the Chosen's head, inflicting pain **and** sending him straight into the path of a speeding dump truck plying the last stretch of asphalt separating him from safety.

It was only out of pure luck that Veemon managed to use the momentum from that bastard's attempt on his life and roll forward, leaping to the sidewalk with little time to spare. Had he been slower… no, had he landed ungracefully on the street, he would've been a gooey mass of blood by now.

When the Digimon of Miracles recounted this horrifying experience to Chris later, there was no doubt he'd save face by deferring to his constant vigilance and survival skills. No need for him—for anyone to know he was rooted to the spot like a bull's-eye and only kismet saved him. A harmless embellishment that would have made Daisuke Motomiya proud.

If there was one thing he was completely honest about with his blond companion, it would've been the depressing experience following his dangerous affair with death.

Veemon was no longer asking directions by the time he found the strength to pick himself up and walk away from the intersection, lower lip slightly bleeding and an ugly red mark discoloring the bright yellow mark on his head. He gave one last look at the other side of the street, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of sympathy from whoever was left standing.

There was none.

All had gone on and left, minding their own businesses.

He shivered.

He sniffled.

He cried.

Nobody cared if he died.

Nobody gave a damn if he was run over like a vagabond.

Even if he was a digimon.

A _person._

That can talk.

That can think.

That can _feel_.

Flattened and brutally crushed like a pancake without eliciting at least a cry of horror from the bystanders?

They probably would've done at least that if a human was in his place.

So why not him? They _knew _he could talk. Veemon vaguely remembered the murmurs sneaking around him the way assassins and thieves stalked their prey, cloaked in stealth. They understood every word. They recognized the feelings written on his face like an open book.

Veemon couldn't comprehend how those people could be so unfeeling for a digimon like him. In fact, it was not until the despondent and tormented mewls of an animal sought his ears and found them, penetrating them did he discover this generalization applied not to a single group, but to **society**.

"SAAAA!" It cried. "SALASAL"—the whine slurred, turning into indecipherable whirrs.

Veemon jolted and, forgetting his consternation at his earlier treatment, tore towards the sound, weaving in and out of the pedestrian traffic. Gasps and yells of surprise erupted all around him, but Veemon ignored everything, his feet moving forward one step another one in a swift dash.

Every cry for help ringing in his ears brought rippling waves of anguish and fright. The Digimon of Miracles leaned back and slid underneath the legs of two passersby, resuming his run unbroken.

Something—no, **someone** (for the desperate bleating sound did _not_ sound like an animal's) was in trouble. Needed his help!

"Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" it came again, pounding his head like the thunderous roar of a wave. _I'm coming_, he thought, feeling every throb of his heart slamming his head. _I'm coming!_

The street was one of those narrower roads leading away from the thoroughfare. Veemon knew he wandered _farther _than what Christopher prescribed, but he didn't care. Someone needed his help and that's exactly what he was there for.

Foot traffic was noticeably lighter than the main road, though still packed with commuters walking to wherever their whims and responsibilities wished. Cars were almost as many, but this time they were smaller. Some were not cars at all, but bicycles and motorbikes, few of which sported digimon… _strapped_ to the back of the seat?

He thought it odd. Whenever Daisuke biked around Odaiba, the teen made it a point to bring the blue dragon with him wherever he went. To him, Chibimon (for that was his usual form in the Real World) was as indispensable as his wallet, cell phone, and goggles. All four were like the clothes on his back. "Can't leave home without 'em!" he once told a pretty girl from school, who wondered why the Baby digimon and those "dorky goggles" (to quote the lady) were always on him.

Veemon's mind was fixated on the straps. Daisuke never used something so barbaric and demeaning on him. The Chosen Child's digital half was either stuck underneath his shirt (enduring that _horrible _stench!) or perched on his head, tightly clutching the goggles and screaming in glee (at risk of slipping and a _lot_ of hurt). Such memories made Veemon smile.

Before he could process them further, the whining reached him once more. Reminded him of his purpose.

Veemon shook his head violently, panting hard as the fatigue from the run quietly settled in. _Focus, Veemon, focus!_ He scanned the road, looking for anything that seemed desperate for hel—

No.

He couldn't believe it.

He would **not** believe it.

All semblance of thought, all hushed verbal responses audible to anyone within six inches of his snout, were slaughtered into a state of silence, numbing both the Chosen's tongue and brain. For Veemon, the childish and innocent dragon, lost his hyperactivity and cheerfulness at the writhing mass in the middle of the street.

He refused to acknowledge the sight being borne by his deep, red eyes.

Paralysis replaced the dragon's determination. Horror replaced his cheer. Again he sensed the deadening chill that went up his spine from the tail up on the moment his gaze fell upon tens of digimon—all his friends despite their collective disagreement on his pro-humanity stance—disintegrating into oblivion back in the Great Forest.

Cream-furred paws reached for the skies, whipping from one place to another in vicious left-to-right, almost circular motions. The bright-red blood seeping from the terrifying opening on its side. Flattened organs literally inches away from the body.

Veemon watched the creature twist its head—its canine head. He noticed the torment it must've gone through just to do it, felt it reverberate in the digimon's own soul as it was released to the bosom of the air. "SSSS-LA!"

Their eyes met.

At that moment, it was as if Veemon had been looking in an old photograph and saw someone he once knew within the frame, recalling the identity at the last minute.

For that was exactly how he felt when the digimon's name finally clicked. _Salamon_.

The Child form of Tailmon, Hikari's digital half.

But this was not the digimon he knew.

Even so, the apparent lack of familiarity was no excuse for turning his back on the wounded puppy. Compelled by his unwavering conscience, by the rigid principles he adhered to, many burned into his head by instinct and some adopted from Daisuke's own philosophies in life, Veemon bolted from his position and became a blue blur to the still eye.

The Chosen made a run for Salamon, possessed by the overpowering desire to help. "I'm coming!" he shouted to the puppy, disregarding the frightened gasps of the humans around him.

Yet no matter how strong his determination was, Veemon could not fulfill the words that leapt off his tongue. For the very instant the blue dragon stepped on the concrete—

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

He stepped back right before a motorcycle collided with him, with less than a second to spare. The experience left him palpitating heavily. "Ha, ha."

"Effing lizard!" its operator called after him, presenting his middle finger back for all to see.

"SAAAAALLL!"

_I have to try!_ And so Veemon returned to the road, moving as fast as he could. Though it was narrower than the main road, Salamon was just about fifteen steps away, on the other side. Three lanes separated the two of them.

Veemon was not giving up without a fight.

The Digimon of Miracles took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then he assailed the road the same way he charged the Modifier armed with nothing but confidence in his judgment.

This very judgment was used to avoid every car coming in from his left, none of which, again, bothered slowing down for him. His own life on the line, without a gun on his side or Christopher to watch his back, Veemon was aware—doubly so!—he only had one chance riding on this.

Veemon sprinted, hoping to beat the driver to the second lane, only for the vehicle to _swerve_ into his path without the slightest warning. His sharp vision caught the typical Japanese workaholic facing down, eyes glued to what was presumably a mobile phone.

He dove for the dividing line and barely reached it, his tail swishing to the side thanks to the rush of wind from the car that just barreled past him at 85 kilometers an hour. A dangerously high speed for a narrow and packed street. As the blue dragon landed, he retracted his arms. Had he not done so they would have been flattened beyond repair. Bones, nerves, and muscles.

Salamon screeched in terror. "Saaaaaaaaaa!" A dagger that stabbed the Chosen's chest and twisted it until it sliced his kind heart in twine.

Determined more than ever, Veemon took his first step onward…

Only to retreat before the unstoppable onslaught of commuters heading home from work could hit him.

Countless vehicles raced past him at harrowing speeds. Few were driven so carelessly about three side mirrors came close to lopping off the dragon's head. There just no end to it! Rush hour was officially upon the Chosen and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

Veemon growled. He clenched his fists so hard they trembled from his own strength. Nobody stopped for them. Nobody _slowed_ down for them. So absorbed were the drivers in their own lives they somehow managed to ignore the stark contrast Salamon's blood-tinged fur had on the road. To see nothing where the dragon stood, his skin a bright blue star trapped in the center of an ebon plane.

"Too many cars," he murmured. "Too many bikes."

Veemon was angry. He couldn't rely on these people's kindness. To them he was just another animal. Another mindless beast destined for roadkill.

The puppy's screams were undeterred by the roaring engines, hounding the Chosen's eardrums to the point the dagger slowly sank deeper within him.

No warning preceded the image of a limb—of a _paw_—flying in the air, fresh blood dripping from where it once connected to Salamon, who reacted with squeals of such intensity it broke the dragon's heart.

Scarlet eyes watched the amputated paw land before a tire. Ruthlessly and mercilessly, it was crushed into paste. The white fur scattering to the air. Had Veemon possessed the ability to slow down time and take a closer look, he would've seen the data particles slowly dispersing into the air.

Salamon's movements, Salamon's suffering, became so ferocious, so _brutish_, it plunged the sinking dagger straight into his very soul.

_I got to do something!_

"But what?" he uttered to himself, keeping his eyes locked on Salamon and the road to his right. One more lane separated the two of them. So close and yet so far.

Never had the blue dragon thought a distance of four meters could be so nerve-wracking.

A minute has already passed and the situation grew direr by the second.

Veemon surveyed the street, taking in groups of people plying both sides of the sidewalk. But none of them were Christopher. _I could use your help right about now…_

How long had it been since they separated? The fifteen minute mark must've passed already. _Shouldn't he be looking for me now?_

No! He mustn't depend on anyone. Not Daisuke. Not Christopher. Veemon had to solve this himself. He's the only one here and he's the only one who could do it.

"_That's the problem with you Chosen_," Centarumon's weakened voice resurfaced from his memory, the frustration almost mocking in tone. _"You're so dependent on your partners. You're weak on your own."_

The longer he delayed the more likely Salamon was going to die.

If he had to act, he had to act **now**.

"_Stand on your own two feet, Lord Veemon. That's how __**we**__ lived, weak or strong."_

Veemon forced his gaze on the people plying the sidewalk. While many walked by without so much as a passing glance, few elected to stop and witness this spectacle, this drama unfolding before them. Veemon didn't know how he should react, for their gazes were filled not with concern but with_ apathy_ and wonder.

His first instinct was to frown. Pout like a child and scold them for being so thoughtless. Nobody would've faulted him for it. Seeing at least three humans idle and do **absolutely nothing** but watch angered him. Why weren't they helping? Why weren't they assisting him? Weren't humans supposed to be good-natured people? Weren't news of such kindness broadcast in the Internet for all to see and emulate?

A new thought occurred to him. Perhaps the problem wasn't that humans were intrinsically, well-meaning people, but rather they behaved similarly **like a herd**, seeking action only when it has been confirmed by those with the proper credentials.

_They just need a little push then._

Patting himself in the back for what was _obviously_ the best idea he could think of, Veemon began jumping up and down in place, waving his arms frantically like a playful youth. "Hey!" he hollered. "Heeeeeeeey!"

A few of them blinked at the sound of his childlike voice. Some of those who passed by snuck a glance at the talking dragon. "Please," he pleased, "you got to help me! Get the cars to slow down." The Digimon of Miracles stared at the people on the other side, irises saturated in an expectant glaze.

"C'mon," he clamored. "I just wanna save her!" He gestured towards Salamon, curling the lips of his muzzle to form the warmest, cutest, and most enthusiastic rictus he could. It was no different from the disarming smirk used to neutralize Cupimon's fears, from the friendly smug he gave the people around, and from the tender, appreciative smile Christopher received and returned.

Veemon believed so strongly in the infectious quality of his cheer. He projected his amity as well as he could, hopefully informing everyone who looked at him to consider his noble intentions in saving someone else's life.

Thanks to his innocence, thanks to his idealism, thanks to the way Christopher renewed the vitality of his human-centric beliefs, the blue dragon would never have anticipated the heartless apathy and irrational fear he received in response. If his jaw could unhinge itself, fall to the concrete, and dig further into the soil and rocks concealed beneath, it would have done so already.

The blow to Veemon's confidence and faith in humanity and its predilection for all that was good, and for all that was ethical and "right", was beyond description.

Utterly indescribable

Totally inscrutable.

.

.

_Chibimon snuggled next to Daisuke, huddling on his lap with his eyes fixed to the television screen. A horde of debris—wood, plastic, steel—filled with remnants of a modernized city floated in the water. People the size of tiny pencils were seen trapped atop sturdy trees and concrete structures still standing, their possessions and their lives lost to the blackened seawater swirling through their city, leaving nothing but the clothes on their backs._

_No food. _

_No shelter_

_With months of suffering and disease awaiting them._

_Through follow-up news around the world, from international channels such as CNN and BBC, to local networks like the JNN, Chibimon would later learn this disaster would eventually be called the Indonesian tsunami, described in Wikipedia as "one of the deadliest natural disasters in recorded history"._

_But for now, all he could see in every second of the news were images of the dead. Images of destroyed lives. Suddenly life felt so short, so dangerous. Chibimon looked up at Daisuke with a serious expression very few would associate him with. The sadness and worry evident within precursors to long, insufferable years of loneliness in the near future._

_His melancholy never left him until that night, when the digimon finally had the time to speak with his human half, who kept him close like a young boy would do with a stuffed toy. (Daisuke may be a teenager, but he had no qualms doing something like this with him. "You'd never understand until you've got a digimon partner of your own," he'd always tell those who knew of this weird, juvenile habit.)_

"_Daisuke?" Chibimon said, his scarlet eyes drilling holes through Daisuke's eyelids, visualizing the russet eyes hidden within._

_He felt the boy's—the teen's (it was so hard to tell when Chibimon's lived with him for two years now)—chest rise and fall, preceding the delayed response. "What is it?"_

"_Are they all, are they all gonna be okay?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_That tsunami k-k, killed tons and tons of people didn't it?"_

"_Yeah... 220 thousand."_

"_I feel so sad for them. I can't imagine… their relatives…"_

_Daisuke spoke loud enough for only the two of them to hear. It was a conversation between them. Partner to partner. Human to digimon. A sweet and tender moment of bonding. "If mom and dad were, you know, caught in something like that, I, I-I, I wouldn't know what I'd do."_

"_What about Jun?"_

_The Chosen Child let out an awkward chuckle. "As much as I hate her guts, she's still my sister."_

"_Hehe, I know you love her."_

_Daisuke grinned._

"_You love me too, do you?"_

_The Child of Miracles rubbed his nose on Chibimon's snout. "Of course I do. You're my best friend. No, you're my little brother. Why _**wouldn't**_ I love you?"_

_Chibimon felt happier. "I just wanna hear you say that. Hehe."_

"_Feel better now?"_

_Daisuke's partner withered. "A little."_

"_Why just 'a little'?"_

"_Because hundreds and thousands and hundreds of people and digimon don't have beds like this to sleep in. They don't have homes, they don't have clothes, they—they, t-they, don't even have food. I can't imagine going days without chocolate and ramen!"_

_Chibimon sensed Daisuke was hiding his giggling from the innocent and simple description of the disaster's aftermath. But he knew he wasn't doing it to spite his fellow men wallowing in a real humanitarian disaster thousands of kilometers away. _

_For Daisuke, like him, knew the tenacity of the human race, of Man's ability to unite as one race in solidarity in the face of catastrophes of unfathomable proportions. It was these traits—relentless determination and solid unity—that attracted the Harmonious Ones and the Order to humankind. Otherwise, Chibimon never would have met the most wonderful thing that happened to his life._

"_People will always help strangers when it's needed. They'll go out of their way and treat you with kindness."_

"_Why?"_

_Chibimon knew the answer to that one. But he always liked hearing it straight from his partner's mouth._

"_Because people just can't turn their backs without feeling something. We like seeing others smile. It feels really good to know we made someone happy, you know?"_

"_Do I make you happy?"_

"_Chibimon, you have absolutely no idea."_

_He hugged the dragon tighter, prompting Chibimon to respond in kind. "You make me happy too, Daisuke." To show his affection, he licked his partner's cheek. For once, he didn't mind. (Though he still wiped his face on the pillow.) _

.

.

They saw him smile.

They saw him ask for help.

They saw the distress on his face.

Yet they still… they **still** turned their backs on him!

Veemon's romantic faith in the immaculate reputation of humanity crashed and burned, falling much in the same way Icarus flew too high in the sky and fell to his bloody death. His beliefs that humanity were attracted to the good, that humanity enjoyed helping others and seeing them smile, and that racial and cultural boundaries were short versus the overpowering will of philanthropy and sympathy, were all destroyed in the very moment the spectators watching him jump like an idiot and calling for their aid DID NOT DO ANYTHING EXCEPT SHRUG AND WALK AWAY.

He pined for the others who remained behind, eyes glued to him like he was a television screen. Like he was a living drama.

What happened?

What could have possibly enabled these pedestrians, these strangers, to turn their backs on him? Couldn't they see he was in trouble? Couldn't they see he needed their help? Couldn't they see a fellow digimon was in danger?

At that moment, he began seeing the digimon in the bicycle carts. The digimon cradled in their partners' arms. The digimon following their partner, seemingly led by a—did he just see** a leash**?

_No_, he shook his head. No. That wasn't what he thought he saw. That was NOT what he thought he saw.

The one thing, the **only** thing he was sure of was his fellow monsters' inability to recognize a troubled digimon, and their incapacity for notifying their partners.

Everyone had changed. Every single one.

The metropolis of Tokyo was the same as he saw it three years ago.

The Japanese people, however, were not.

Why was he the only one noticing this? Why him? Why was he so different? Was it the fact he was a Chosen? The fact he came from the Digital World? The fact that humanity had somehow changed in his three-year absence?

"What happened?" he kept repeating. "What… happened?"

Only to be snapped out of his trance by Salamon's resurrected cries for help. "Salaaaaaa!"

Knowing he couldn't count on the observers watching him, he did what he had to do, stepping forward into the throng of traffic, rushing into the fray with his eyes solely on Salamon and the deep, crimson fluid marring what must have been a beautiful fur coat…

…until the deafening growls of an imported Harley-Davidson cruiser yanked his gaze, his attention, **and** his reflexes away from his focused mission. He was no different from a cat blinded by the halogen lamps of a speeding automobile, standing still in the middle of the road like a target just WAITING to be run over.

But Veemon was no cat. Veemon was no ordinary beast. He was a dragon. He was a digimon. A Chosen. A Chosen with a purpose, one that must be fulfilled _before_ he died. He couldn't go before then. He must live—live another day if only to see his beloved Daisuke again. A hope that was revived and rekindled through Christopher Van Numen.

Even if humankind had changed, Veemon at least had Chris as a consolation prize for his outstanding efforts to cling to his dying ideals: someone willing to support him. That alone was enough to get by, at least until the day he and his human half finally got together.

Summoning his wits through willpower and the determination to follow through with his plans, the Digimon of Miracles forced himself to step back, barely avoiding the imported motorbike. The rush of another vehicle alerted him to a Mitsubishi van approaching him quick, and there was no time to move forward and stand by Salamon's precariously limp body.

The Chosen didn't just duck. He **went prone**, dropping on all floors and flattening his entire dragonic body in an attempt to escape certain death.

Veemon succeeded by the fraction of an inch.

It did not save him from the scalding heat of the engines propelling the car. An intolerable wave of pain soared throughout his entire body, concentrating and settling itself on a good portion of his tail, his ears, and the reptilian fins lining his back. A Honda succeeded the van, its bastard driver tailgating the vehicle, whose low height forced more heat down on his body and subjected him to more painful burns.

But he endured it. The blue dragon endured it all. Everything he had done was to rescue the small puppy in front of him, to save it and see it smile. In a way, he was more human than any human he had seen in this dystopian world. For he was but a stranger to the Salamon, and all he wanted was for her to know that…

"Everything's gonna be okay, Salamon," Veemon managed to smile, wincing at the burns, disregarding the pain and agony causing every nerve in his body to scream. "It'll be alright."

"Sal?"

Her screams stopped when she heard his childlike voice. Her flailing ceased upon realizing his presence. What could not be mistaken for anything else _except_ a smile, the most beautiful and genuine smile, adorned its snout, decorating it with hope. A hope that grew stronger as she heard Veemon say her name.

Strong enough to drown out the horror-struck gasp escaping the blue dragon's muzzle as his red eyes fell on the black spiral clasped to her neck.

Then Salamon enunciated, her tone employing calm and relief. "Sala—

.

.

FIRESTONE

.

.

**PSHHHSPLAT.**

A tire so humongous it could have only belonged to a garbage truck slammed down on the frail, sickly body of the puppy digimon. It fell on her with a sickening crunch.

"No…"

Salamon's cute face inflated like a balloon a split second before it exploded. Blood landed on Veemon's cheeks. On Veemon's hands. The bright, iron-tasting liquid cascaded down his muzzle. Bits and pieces of raw meat stuck to his skin, even as small particles of data began drifting away from the horribly disfigured body.

Veemon lost it. "No…"

He had _completely_ lost it. "NO!" The blue dragon punched the asphalt and shrieked, drops of Salamon's blood and his own tears streaming down. The greatest irony of it all: had Salamon survived it, the large gap behind the truck and other vehicles would have given Veemon the opportunity to rescue her.

Now he only had the opportunity to flee. The Digimon of Miracles did just that, even when body parts and clumps of blood had literally stuck to him. His mind no longer cared if people recoiled at the sight of a blue dragon covered in drying blood. Veemon was too focused on forgetting Salamon's disintegrating corpse. On finding a familiar face.

If only Daisuke was there. He'd know just what to say to calm him down. To comfort him and make everything feel better. To assure the blue dragon it was all okay.

He could only hope Christopher would do something similar.

* * *

Christopher Van Numen's experience with the Japanese people was nothing like Veemon's. No one treated him with caution, and certainly no one gave him suspicious glares on occasion. Thoughhe did receive befuddled stares from the persons he accosted, not to mention those who were close enough to hear him.

Christopher's blatant inscience on Japanese culture and sheer unfamiliarity with the local geography barred any comprehension of any directions given to him. About three minutes after separating from Veemon and crossing the intersection, heading for another block, he found someone who had been willing to talk to him.

With everyone trying to rush home before dark, commuters and pedestrians were not interested in helping a stranger.

"Sorry, but I gotta catch my bus!" one of them said to him, not even sparing him a glance.

This excuse turned out to be quite common. Either that or he was outright precluded from the individuals' little world thanks to the music players deep in their pockets and earphones stuck to their ears like glue, blaring music loud enough to eliminate all external audio. _Goddammit._

It took a while, but after going through fifteen attempts, someone was **finally** willing to talk to him. Only problem was, the person presumed he was knowledgeable on local places…

"Okay, so you just go straight along this road until you hit the Ward Office and then—

"Hold up. Ward office? What's that?"

"Never heard of it? It's a government building assigned for the entire Shibuya Ward. You've never been there? It's a big building and—

"No! I'm not even _from_ here, so I wouldn't know how it—

"In that case, it's right beside the Jinnan Elementary School. You can't miss either of them."

"I'm telling you, just draw me a map. It'll be better that way."

"Oh sorry, but I don't really have the time. I'm meeting my wife in ten minutes, y'see."

"Hurray."

"Really and _truly_ sorry. Take care."

"…thanks for trying to help."

"No problem."

Well that wasn't productive. All he got from _that_ conversation were useless landmarks and plenty of Japanese-style apologies, complete with an exaggerated frequency of head-bowing. Who ever knew the first person he ended up speaking with would be so nice?

_A shame Veemon isn't here_. _He'd probably know what to do with the directions…_

Christopher wasn't as focused as the dragon in seeking directions. He was simply too amazed by the buildings around him, staring at the concrete and the people and the vehicles like it was a dream come true. His goldenrod eyes were aroused by an emotion that had long been locked away inside him.

Before he could process it any further, his gaze fell on a rather corpulent, orange-skinned creature in the middle of an intersection, directing traffic instead of an automated stoplight (which was broken and under repair by presumably government servicemen). It was **literally** a giant orange.

Christopher didn't know how such a thing could stand out more than it already—he caught its red, retro-style shades. _Eew._

Shaking his head and restraining himself from laughing loud at the stupidest thing he'd ever seen in this world, the blond approached the digimon (how could it be anything else?) with the intent of asking his questions. The whole Cupimon thing earlier left him wondering if this giant citrus knew how to speak.

His first guess at its name was Citramon, taking from its appearance. Veemon would have certainly come up with the same thing (or "Orangemon", perhaps). In fact, this would've been confirmed right by the fruit itself.

_If_ it could talk.

Chris walked up to Citramon and tapped its shoulder. Its very skin felt like an orange's: smooth, rippled, and more rigid than flesh. _That feels __**weird**__._ The blond was glad Veemon was way, _way_ better to touch.

"Excuse me."

Ignored.

He coughed loudly, but that didn't get him results.

_One more time._ "**Excuse** me."

Ignored again.

Christopher rolled his eyes and made the digimon face him, his inhuman strength all but eliminating the effort it would have taken even the strongest athlete to do so. For a freakishly large fruit, it was certainly heavier than he expected.

Citramon's response was as immediate as his sudden rotation. The giant orange stared back at Chris, whose intuition told him the orange freak was busy scanning him from head to toe.

The blond opened his mouth to speak, but Citramon beat him to the punch. "Sir," its deep, masculine voice boomed. "It is not advisable for a pedestrian to be in the middle of a busy street."

He blinked. Chris had expected something more along the lines of "Cit, citra", _not_ actual **and** coherent words. Still, there was something off about the way Citramon verbalized…

_Probably nothing I should care about._

"I'm lost," Christopher opted for the direct route. "I've been trying to find Shibuya Station but I just don't know where I'm going."

The man found himself _staring_ at the orange's horribly enormous lips—it looked like his head could fit in that mouth! It was so ugly Christopher almost missed Citramon's response. Almost.

Even if he had been paying attention, he would've been disappointed anyway; the giant fruit's reply failed to address his plight. "For your safety, you must return to the sidewalk and wait until the green light before crossing the street."

Insulted, "Are you _actually_ listening to me? Just give me directions—no, draw me a **map** from here to Shibuya Station and I _promise_ I'll get out of your way ASAP."

Christopher heard the vehicles stuck behind the pedestrian lane honk their horns impatiently. He eyed one of the drivers, who promptly slammed his hand on the horn and raised a middle finger at him. The blond responded in kind. _Eff you too, buddy!_

"Sir," Citramon spoke on its own volition. "Failure to comply with the instructions of a SCAI employed through the NPA is a misdemeanor under the 2012 Tokyo Ordinance of Digital Assimilation."

This time, Chris detected a cold, almost robotic tone hiding behind the words. A different beast compared to the warm and casual air from Veemon's cheerful, bubbly, and individualistic personality. "If you continue to idle here, obstruct my duties as traffic enforcer, and-slash-or otherwise endanger public safety, I—

He had to retreat. From what he could gather, this freak was a government worker of some sort. Worse, he possessed the _legal authority_ to fine him. While being held in one place by an oversized fruit was not physically possible by any means, getting involved with the local law enforcement was certain to attract the police—and the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Neither he nor Veemon needed that kind of attention. Not now.

Plus, he didn't like the idea of informing the blue dragon he screwed up their cover. Christopher found the thought of it humiliating, considering _he_ had been the more cautious one. So the blond raised his hands and backed off. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll go away now."

He plotted a course for the nearest section of the sidewalk. But as Chris turned he glimpsed the spiral clamped on Citramon's thigh. Its shape and structure was identical to Veemon's in every way, except for one thing.

This one wasn't black. It was white.

.

.

_At last!_ Christopher Van Numen could barely hide the elation in his voice. Ten minutes into his encounter with that gigantic orange and at least thirty rejections from as many people, the blond had finally found someone who was willing to stop **and **draw a map for him.

Out of gratitude, he bowed his head in the same, respectful way that other man did. "Thank you," he said, trying his best to sound sincere. "You've no idea how hard it was getting people to stop and help me out."

While showing his appreciation and focusing on sounding genuinely grateful for the assistance, Christopher did not see the crowd behind him making wide spaces for something moving in his direction, almost every person conveying a look of surprise or caution.

Parting the towers of clothed flesh and their bags and other miscellaneous apparel was a dragon of the brightest blue, covered in dried blood and running incredibly fast, scarlet eyes darting around as if looking for something.

The blond's listener saw this and began closing the conversation. "Don't question hasty commuters during rush hour next time," he advised, wishing the approaching creature would run past them. "Still, always a pleasure to help someone in need."

They shook hands. "Definitely. Again, thank you very mu—

Christopher was assaulted by the blue dragon when its eyes fell on him at the last second, leaping towards the blond from as far as ten feet and wrapping his arms around his torso, clinging to his back the way ticks stuck to one's flesh. "What the!"

The man Chris accosted stepped back, a look of terror coating his eyes as he watched the dragon rear its head and plunge it into his acquaintance's neck, seemingly clamping a pair of sharp canines all over it. It didn't help that the clutch the creature had on him looked taut, even from three, no, five feet.

The blond turned his head and saw Veemon burying his head on his shoulder, nuzzling it deep as if drilling a hole through the skin. Blue arms were wrapped around him, squeezing as hard as they could. "Hey," Chris asked. "Weren't we supposed to—are you even listening? Hey!"

No reaction.

"Veemon?"

He noticed the liquid drying on his hands. "Is that _blood_?" Chris placed his hand on Veemon's, almost causing the digimon to jolt at the touch. "What the hell?"

Again, no reaction, save for the further tightening of his embrace.

"I-I, i-it's not," stuttered the other man. "I-i-i-it's not su-sucking you dry, is it?"

"Huh?"

A finger was pointed at Veemon, who remained oblivious to the exchange, seeing and hearing things Christopher would never know until he pried it out.

"That t-thing—SCAI, just jumped you."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "And so? He's with me."

"It's yours? But that SCAI just appeared out of nowhere…"

He felt immense pressure from Veemon's hug. It was so tight, even Chris found it uncomfortable. If he had been a normal man, he'd probably have died already from suffocation or crushed ribs coupled with hemorrhage. Something was wrong—the Digimon of Miracles had obviously undergone some sort of trauma in the past fifteen, twenty (or was it thirty?) minutes they split up.

An ordeal so shocking and horrifying it dropped the poor dragon into a pit of silent despair. Chris could even hear Veemon's muffled sobs, and that wasn't just because he was weeping right next to his head and Chris happened to have acute hearing.

_Shit, who did this to you?_

"Yeah," he acknowledged, wanting to end the conversation as much as the other man did earlier. The confused, if not bewildered, look Chris received told him to stay and inquire, even for a little longer. "Why do you look so concerned?"

"Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"The DSI's got a proximity law up. Forbids you to be over 10 feet away from your SCAI unless attended by another person."

"You're not kidding me, are you?"

"No! Didn't you know this? You're lucky the DSI Peacekeepers haven't caught up to you yet. They could've been chasing your SCAI before it got here."

"Tsk, tsk." Chris shook his head in disbelief. "Looks like I gotta be more careful then." He tendered his hand again, making sure it wasn't stained. Christopher wiped it on his pants for good measure, avoiding the three-toed feet fastened to his waist like a seatbelt. "Anyway, I can't thank you enough for your help. You've done way more than I expected you to."

The man smiled. "Again, a pleasure to help." And with that, they parted ways, but not before Christopher got the location of a public bathroom. He needed to wash the blood off.

As he walked, Chris noticed Veemon hadn't moved _at all_ since they regrouped. Though the blue dragon no longer shed tears within a minute of clinging to him, he remained unresponsive no matter what Chris did to him. He doubted tickling the Chosen was a tactful idea…

Chris hoped this wouldn't last long. Veemon was acting completely out of character, and he didn't like seeing something like this. The blond stroked the blue head and let his hand linger, giving it a slight push so the dragon's cheek touched his own. All to send a message he was clinging to a friend.

Something Christopher did not have when his own world crumbled around him.

.

.

"_What's going on?"_

_Christopher Van Numen, several years younger, leaned forward in the cockpit. The leather seat should have banished all sorts of consternation and discomfort from him, yet it paled before the burden he now borne._

"_Why is this—why, __**is**__ this—_

_He couldn't understand any of it. Countless images of corpses and destruction populated his head. Many disfigured and destroyed, few granted the consolation of a quick and unexpected death, evidenced by the smiles and unwitting expressions on their faces._

_Christopher wept, sobbing into his palms. If only he had a friend. Someone to talk to. Someone to __**listen**__. To be there. He didn't care who it was. A lover, a close buddy, an acquaintance… hell, even a stranger. Anyone! Anyone would do!_

_But no. They killed them. They killed them all. Slaughtered everyone like pigs. Not even innocents were spared. _

_He knew the killers. He knew the murderers. He knew them __**well**__. For they were, once upon a time, comrades and the best of friends. "They—they c, can't—we, we saved __**everything**__. Followed the passages to a T. Fought monsters so much stronger. How can— _

_The teenager stopped. Tear-stricken goldenrod eyes shone with puzzles. Hoping to find the answers to the simplest questions running amuck in his head. Who was hunting them? Why? Was he the only one left? Why were his most loyal friends turned into... into…_

.

.

He shook the bitter memory away. Another reminder of his own problems, he did not need. Christopher was an outsider here. He couldn't overstay his welcome in this universe. He knew he'd have to leave eventually and the last thing he wanted were events long burned into his head telling him to hurry up and get out of there.

Why couldn't they just let him be? Even for a day or two? Let him enjoy his respite here. Let him enjoy his budding friendship with Veemon. The blue dragon was as lonely as he was and just as desperate for the "good ol' days". Christopher never forgot that this friendship was nothing more than a temporary affair. A distraction from the terrors hounding his mind and the promises he had sworn in days long past.

Besides, Veemon was luckier than he was. The person he pined for was still alive out there, somewhere. Not like the blond, whose beloved was dead, lingering only in his memories. The Chosen's dream of reunion and an authentic coexistence between humanity and monsters were both more feasible than Christopher's arrogant desire to alter a fate demanded by the powers-that-be.

Veemon had a better shot at regaining a normal life than Chris could ever hope for. At becoming happy again.

Christopher Van Numen had nothing, and the thought of it stirred the pangs of envy in his heart. His miserable thoughts were broken when Veemon spoke. It wasn't so much as a statement as it was a little squeak. "…Chris?"

The blond pushed all his problems back into the recesses of his mind. Though he knew they would later resurface, stronger than ever, it was still a welcome relief. Ah, procrastination was great.

In reply, he twirled one of Veemon's ears and nudged his muzzle with his cheek. Words were not as important as actions.

"W-when, when we split up, a-a-and, and I started asking people…"

It actually worked.

The blue dragon kept talking. His muted whispers were a far cry to the energetic yells Chris was accustomed to. Veemon narrated his experiences, each more harrowing than the last.

He was maltreated by a teenager, brushed off and driven away with a condescending hiss. A pregnant woman he thought to be kind and poised with a motherly gentleness screamed at him and hated his touch, enough to clean herself with hand sanitizer. He was driven away. Ostracized.

Drivers did not stop for him on the street. To them he was an animal that didn't deserve the courtesy many pedestrians were afforded. "P-p-people, _people_ treated me like I'm a stray. Or like I had rabies. I was—I was—ignored. Shoved. Kicked. One even tried to get me killed."

Christopher felt bad listening to his story. He wanted to do something, but what else _could_ he do? Letting him talk and showing affection while the dragon was at it was the _only_ thing he could think of for the moment.

"I, I saw someone dying in front of me. It was another digimon. Just like me. Bleeding all over. On the street. Couldn't move anymore. I, I—t-tried to help her, but"—he took a deep breath, struggling to speak more.—"there were just too many.

"Cars and bikes, I mean. Too many. Too fast. I tried to get people to help. I smiled, tried to be as nice as I can. But when they looked at me…"

He paused.

"When they looked at me, they—they stopped. They didn't want to. They seemed—they looked—no, they **were**… afraid? Careful? Some didn't even look at me."

Veemon's voice was cracking. It saddened him to narrate his tale, to even relive the moments. Christopher had no idea what he went through but the words were enough to explain how he turned into this sobbing mess. "Salamon was—w, was squished by a tire right after I got her to calm down and _look_ me in the eye. And the humans? The digimon tagging along with them?

"None of them **cared**. Someone's partner just _died_ and nobody cared." He buried his muzzle into Chris' shoulder. "If I, i-if, if I died, no one—

"No." as he walked, Christopher inserted a finger in Veemon's mouth, pinched the cheek, and pulled real hard. ("Ooow!") "You're not giving me that 'no-one-cares-about-me' shit. **I'm** **right here**, carrying you on my back, listening to you whine. Some people care about you, Vee, and I'm one of 'em."

Hearing those words shut him up. They relieved enough of his sadness, allowing Veemon to close his eyes and take the rest he deserved, but only after giving the man a crushing hug.

The next time he spoke was after Christopher found a public toilet and, with the sink, washed Salamon's dried blood away. Chris was observant in noticing Veemon's avoidance of other people, not even trying to make eye contact with them anymore.

And for good reason.

Other pedestrians were also giving him space. They found a three-foot dragon covered in dried blood just as suspicious as the way Christopher allowed him to ride his back. Other digimon, which were seen more frequently now that they ambled along a major road, did not enjoy such privileges.

Had Veemon seen this all, it would've hurt him further. Lucky his eyes were still buried on his shoulder. Was he distracting himself, taking in his scent? Or had he fallen asleep? If it was the latter… well, Chris was lucky he wasn't drooling like a garden hose the way he usually did. Not yet.

Christopher being Christopher, he couldn't bring himself to care. Being treated with suspicion was the most common response he received in his travels. Anyone who met him and his friends was instantly aware they weren't normal. That they "didn't belong". That's the problem with being a traveler of the multiverse. People could _somehow_ discern their exogenous nature, and unfortunately, only Sally and another friend, Joshua, could avert the suspicion it brought.

"Chris?"

Veemon asked him just as the man snatched sheets and sheets of tissue paper from the dispenser. He soaked them underneath the running faucet and wiped the dragon's body with meticulousness so thorough it bordered on obsession. The recipient of such attention, however, interpreted his fastidious cleaning in a more positive light. Which was good.

"What is it?" he grunted, grabbing his humerus. "Oh, lift up your arm so I can wipe your armpit."

Veemon complied. "I've been thinking."

"Uh huh."

"About Daisuke."

"Yeah. He's the reason you accompanied me, right?"

"**Mainly** the reason," he murmured. "But not the only one. I wanted to be with you, too."

"Mhm."

"I mean, it's really lonely back there, and—

"You do realize this is the _fifth_ time you told me that?"

Awkward chuckle. "Hehe, really now…"

"So what about Daisuke?"

"Do you thi—I, I mean, the people here have **changed**. They used to be so kind and helpful and friendly—

"They still are to me." He brought out a slip of paper. "The guy I was talking to right before you jumped me drew a map to Shibuya Station."

"To _digimon_, then. They used to be like that. Nice…"

Chris pocketed the map. "What're you getting at? Oh, and raise your foot." He turned on the faucet and saturated the body part with water, rubbing Veemon's toes vigorously. "It's got quite a bit of blood and I—what the eff, is that _cartilage_?"

If the Chosen cringed, he did not show it. "Do you think..." he gulped, "Daisuke changed?"

The blond didn't say a word.

"W-will, will Daisuke take me back when he sees me again?"

Chris delayed his response. "Okay, _now_ I have to wash your belly. Bear with me if I tickle you."

Veemon reacted as expected, trying to stifle his childish giggles as Chris washed him and rubbed the blood off. It was chunky, dotted with pieces of meat neither he nor Veemon wanted to gape at. Thankfully it had mostly dried by the time he got jumped. He didn't like the thought of washing the vest he took from the Great Forest.

Sure, the blue dragon could have done all the cleaning himself, but given his emotional state, Chris believed it was best to do it for him. Doing so communicated his concern for Veemon _and_ distracted them from their own problems: the dragon from his trauma and Christopher from his depressing reminders.

"And to answer your question with _another_ question, why do you even ask? You know Daisuke **more** than I do."

"Ehhhh, it's just—

Chris cupped Veemon's muzzle in his hands and held it firmly. "Whew, your face is a _mess._"

"—after the way people out there treated me…

"You think he'd do the same to you?" He found the small wound on Veemon's forehead. Had Chris been there, he wouldn't have let those assholes hurl a stone at the dragon and get away with it.

"He left me on my own. He could've gotten back to me or sent me a message, but no! He never sent me one. Never got back to me since we split."

Ken's notice repeated in Chris' head. _"We never told Veemon. His partner, Daisuke Motomiya, __**disappeared**__ exactly a month before the war began."_

Veemon kept talking. "Nobody told me anything. Said they didn't know what happened. Sooner or later, because I, I had nothing to go on, I, I-I, I started believing what Golemon and every non-Chosen w-were telling me: that Daisuke a-a, ab, _abandoned_ me, left me to rot in the Digital World while he—

"Stop," Christopher cut him off. "I know you haven't told me the whole story yet, but from what little you told me about him, Daisuke obviously had a reason for leaving you there. A _legitimate_ reason. And I **refuse** to fault him for it. Besides, if he's half the person you say he is, he **couldn't** have changed!

"Well, not a lot, anyway. Anything can happen in three years, but I doubt he'd stop loving you." He beamed. "You're a little brother to him, aren't you? I'm sure you know in the bottom of your heart he'll always think about you."

"That's what I thought too."

Christopher rolled his eyes. "You just wanted to hear someone else say it, huh?"

Veemon grinned. "Yeah."

"Aaaaaaaaand we're done." He ran his hand along Veemon's arm and was satisfied with the smoothness of his skin. "You're all clean and"—sniffing the dragon's head—"I don't smell any blood on you. Perfect.

"Now," the man, still kneeling, inquired. "Can you walk? I don't need to hold your hand or anything?"

Five seconds elapsed before the Chosen replied. "I'd rather ride your back. It's comfortable. Your staff doesn't bother my butt and your shoulder makes a _great_ headrest."

Chris grumbled. "Fine, you lazy bum."

As he turned, "By the way…"

"Hm?"

Veemon lunged forward and gave his face a huge lick. "Thanks."

Christopher didn't have a problem being covered in slobber. "Glad to help," he replied, smiling even. For a moment there, Veemon looked like he wanted to lick him _again_, but decided against it, instead opting to climb his back.

But even if he did it again, Chris wouldn't care in the slightest. Veemon was happy again and that was enough. For that, he'd let the dragon do it as many times as he wanted. Anywhere, anytime.

* * *

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Second Chapter Break (20.3K word count)

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* * *

"Hey, Vee?"

"What?"

"I still can't believe we're here."

"In the Real World?"

"No."

"In Shibuya?"

Chris grinned. "Nope. In _Japan_."

A second later, he said it again. "Man, it's so… just damn, really…"

The Chosen sighed. "Yes, Christopher," he spoke dully. "You're in Japan." Veemon stuck his tongue at him. "Want me to repeat it?"

"Why not?"

Rolling his eyes, "You're in Jap-_pan_!" he faked excitement. "Congrats!"

He laughed. "Say it again, dude. It feels so _sweet_ to hear."

The Chosen groaned.

The blond couldn't resist this as they continued their walk, their path to Shibuya Station guaranteed by the map now held in his hands. Veemon was feeling better now. He may have noticed the berth the pedestrians were giving both him and his blond companion but this did not bother him in the slightest.

Christopher proved reliable as a friend as he hoped he would. On top of it, he felt more confident about his reunion with Daisuke. Not even the wary stares passersby sent him on occasion dragged him down.

"Why are you so excited about being in Japan anyway? You're the **last person** I'd expect to be like this."

_Because you travel the multiverse. Nothing else comes even close!_

"Eh, it's my first time here."

"Ha!" he huffed. "You've been to more amazing places **I **wanna go to."

Christopher blushed when he said this, as if recalling an embarrassing memory from his yesteryears. "Veemon, I… I used to _dream_ of visiting Japan."

"Reeaaaalllly now," he muttered, playing the sarcasm card.

"I swear, dude! I was even planning a trip after my high school graduation back home. With nobody but my buds at school… and our girlfriends, of course."

"_Right_…"

It took a minute for Veemon to process what just came out of his mouth. "Wait a minute!" The digimon stared at him. "High school? Girlfriends? Graduation? All that sounded **TOO NORMAL **for you."

"I know right?" Chris smirked. "But that was a long, _long_ time ago, Vee. Before my journey began. When I… when I still had **everything**." He moaned. "Honestly, if you knew what I've been through, you'd agree I deserved a normal life…"

"What you've been through?" the dragon wondered. "Before your graduation?"

He chuckled. "No. Before _high school_." He stroked the dragon's snout. "Let's leave it at that, okay? I _hate_ talking about this. Makes me miss my family… and my friends…"

"Oh-kay," Veemon concurred. "Just cheer up, Chris," he chirped. "You still got a friend."

"_You_?" Christopher scoffed. "Heh! It's only been a week, Vee."

"Hmm, feels like a lot more to me."

Seeing Christopher smile right after that made Veemon feel quite happy. The blond was constantly serious, and it was almost rare seeing something like an authentic, cheery grin on his face. Granted, Chris seemed happier whenever _he_ was around, but hey, the Chosen thought, it's a start.

"Hearing that makes me feel better. Much better." The words came out in an instant, and Veemon's instincts told him it was one of the most sincere things he said during their short friendship.

Without warning, a wave of misery radiated from Christopher. A forlorn dejection suddenly appeared on his face, prompting Veemon to worry. "Chris, you—"

The opportunity to answer was rudely interrupted by a loud exclamation behind them. "**COOOOOOLLL!**"

Neither of them had spoken.

Christopher turned around before Veemon could and they found a young girl, roughly seven years old, staring at them with eyes dilating in amazement. A small, furry-looking digimon accompanied her. When Daisuke's digital half saw the rope in her hand, he frowned. _I __**cannot**__ believe it._

Veemon pointed at it. "Is that a _leash_?"

The little girl ignored him and held his outstretched hand. "Wow, it really **is** a talking digimon."

The Digimon of Miracles withdrew his hand, recoiling. The privilege of touch was currently reserved for Daisuke, Jun, Patamon, Tailmon, Wormmon, and lately, Christopher. No one else. "Hasn't she heard of personal space?" Only the blond heard him.

If he wasn't so transfixed by this sudden intrusion, he would've seen the goldenrod eyes roll. If they could speak, they would've said, "Like you even care about _my_ space."

She gestured to a small park neither of them noticed. "I go home from school this way everyday, so I've seen plenty of SCA—_digimon_. But I have _never_ seen anything like your lizard."

"The name's Veemon," corrected the Chosen. Accentuating, "And I'm no lizard! I'm a _draaaaaagon_."

"I've been watching the two of you play around and then I heard it t-t, **talk**!"

Veemon was puzzled. "Why's that so special?"

Christopher spoke as well, taking the words straight from the dragon's mouth. "Little girl, all digimon talk."

"Uhm, no they don't!" she rebutted. With a rather cruel strength, she pulled the creature on the other end of the leash to her.

It looked like a ball. A purple, fluffy ball, half of its head covered by a chrome helmet. What _used_ to be a horned helmet, given the shaved stubs on the side. Veemon could barely see the orange eyes behind it.

A raccoon-like tail attached to the monster wagged in delight when it looked at them. He (or so Veemon assumed) stuck his tongue out, panting like a dog. The digimon bounced in the girl's grasp, requiring a little bit of strength to keep the creature in control. "Kapu, Kapuriiiii!" _Seems excited to meet us._

"See? Keanu, my Kapurimon, can't talk."

_Wouldn't you know—she's right!_

Veemon, curious as he was, dropped from Christopher's back. _So why can't he? _He strode towards the little girl, who shook with fright at his approach. An understandable reaction: they were both three feet tall. "M-mister," she stammered. "K-k, keep it under control!"

Chris cocked an eyebrow. "Under control? He's not doing anything."

"Yeah," Veemon concurred. "I just want to befriend your partner."

She was not pacified by Veemon's answer. His reply, in fact, flew through her ears. "Because I don't know how it'll behave with Keanu," she addressed the blond. "You can't really predict digimon…"

The Chosen frowned. _Why does she keep calling me an 'it'? _"Hello?" He waved his hand. "Didn't you hear me? I just want to make friends."

Christopher allayed her worries. "You've got nothing to worry about. Veemon's **adorably** friendly. He won't do anything, promise."

"If… if you say so."

Veemon shook his head, mentally slapping himself for her ignorance. He proceeded to close the small gap between him and the girl, disregarding the disturbing questions that would've stopped him completely had he been paying attention, had he been less curious about Keanu's inability to speak.

He would have asked why the little girl wasn't listening to him, why she was _always_ addressing Christopher. Why was she ignoring him when she knew he could talk?

Instead he peered at the purple furball and cheeped. "Hi, Keanu! I'm Veemon. Pleased to meet ya!"

His listener trilled. "Kapupu!" It launched itself from the little girl's arms and fell on his chest, before licking his muzzle the way he would with either Daisuke or Christopher.

"Whoa there!" he laughed, feeling the digimon's tongue glide along his snout repeatedly.

It was a slimy, smelly, obviously disgusting sensation, and by being on the receiving end _for once_, he finally understood why Daisuke always threw a fit (but not why Christopher didn't seem to mind), although that wasn't going to make him stop one bit. It was fun, after all.

But when the Kapurimon subjected him to the same display of affection he showed only to the ones closest to him, doing it without a second thought, without even _pausing_ to appreciate the happy chortles and random, erratic movements coming from the blue dragon, the picture being formed in Veemon's head was far from ideal.

The picture was that of a behavior, of an **instinct**. It told him Kapurimon wasn't doing this because he wanted to, or because he felt like it. There was simply no love behind every movement Keanu's tongue slid across his muzzle. Nothing at all.

Completely empty.

If that was not already apparent by the furball's thoughtless leap and noncommittal noises, it was most certainly apparent in the barking noises he made when Veemon pulled him away. "Kapu!" the raccoon-ball barked, squirming in his hands. "Ka, pu!"

After wiping the Kapurimon's slimy gunk off his face, a pair of scarlet eyes fell on the black spiral clinging to the fluffy tail. Drawn to it and the leash on which was clipped. The appalling sight resurrected his antipathy. "H-he's, he's **on a leash!**" _Darn, I forgot all about it!_

"That's weird." The girl had heard him. "Mister, don't YOU keep your digimon on a leash?"

Christopher and Veemon replied simultaneously. "Why should I (he)?"

"So it won't run away," the girl retorted matter-of-factly.

"Not gonna happen," he muttered. Veemon went so far as to show it, setting Keanu down and leaping onto Chris before the furball could even throttle him.

As usual, the girl did not address him. "Wow, mister! How long did it take you to train him?"

"Train him?"

"To jump on you like that." She grinned. "Aww, how cute! You're holding it up like a toddler."

That was just insulting. **Offensive**. It irked him, but since the little girl wasn't even interested in what he had to say, the best the dragon could do was stick out his tongue and make a face. "Beh."

Veemon wasn't the only one offended here. "I never did anything like that," Chris replied. "Vee's always been like this. Why don't you talk TO him, for once?"

She pouted. "And then what? Feel jealous **you've** got a talking digimon? I want one tooooo."

Her whining disturbed him. Veemon's eyes shot to Keanu, hoping to see a display of emotion. _Preferably_ anger. Resentment, perhaps.

Such hopes were dashed the instant he saw the Kapurimon's **apathy** to the whole conversation. It disturbed him. Shook him to the bone. Affecting his very being. How could this digimon remain sitting down with a smile on his face, panting like a dog?

If Veemon ever heard Daisuke say something like that, he wouldn't act like nothing happened! He wouldn't continue playing with him, or talking to him with nothing but smiles and laughter going his way. No! Veemon would've felt **like shit** and he _definitely_ wasn't going to do something foolish like retaining an everlasting smile or sitting in one spot doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

So why wasn't this girl's partner doing anything? Didn't he even realize how she felt?

"But you already have a digimon!" the Chosen rebutted, rushing to Keanu's defense.

She ignored him. "Mister, we have **three** digimon at home. They're cute, but they're—they're so **BOOOOOOORING**! When mommy makes me look after 'em, they run around and make a mess!" She jerked. "Oh! Yesterday, one of 'em pooped on the carpet, and I had to clean it up!" The little girl shivered. "Eeeyuck! You're lucky your lizard can talk. You can have it do stuff for you, tell it to go to the toilet, and it's easier and more fun to play with—

"You don't know Keanu," yelled Veemon, shouting over her swift, rapid-fire words. "You don't even know those other digimon! Hang out with them more." He snaked his arm around Chris' head. "Like us."

He whipped his finger at the furball's leash. "And take that leash off Keanu. He doesn't **need** it."

Veemon wanted the notion of understanding seep into the little girl's head. He wanted her to realize no right-minded digimon would want to be leashed, to have their freedoms taken away. Even if they couldn't talk, the very least she could do as the digimon's human half was show respect. Simple as that.

As he suspected, the little girl did nothing. Everything he said was disregarded. She was too enamored with the idea of a talking digimon and merely playing with one to even consider the deeper responsibilities and rewards of a strong relationship between partners. With a grunt, he swung himself along Chris' torso and clung again to his back.

There was no point in convincing the girl. She was so entrenched in their beliefs, not even his companion could persuade her otherwise. Veemon's mind returned to the dark spiral situated on Keanu's tail. Every digimon he had met in the Real World had a dark spiral: Cupimon, Salamon, and now, Kapurimon. All three acted like animals, operating purely on instinct and emotions, and incapable of saying anything more than eponymous syllables.

Christopher told him about Citramon earlier, and the revelation was just as disturbing. Citramon had a white spiral, which was hypothesized to permit speech and limited logic, albeit sentences and vocabulary the blond could only describe as robotic. Mechanical. _Programmed_.

Veemon stared at the accessory Ken clipped on his arm.

The dark spiral.

How could something that gave the Twelve so much trouble ten years ago make a comeback? He was certain the Digital Suppression Initiative was involved with it, but nothing came to his mind except for one question after another. Veemon wondered how they got their hands on the technology and what sort of improvements and specifications have they made to it…

The blue dragon wasn't granted the time to ponder over this, for the little girl speaking with Christopher yanked Keanu up from the ground and showed him the black spiral. "Lookit." She indicated a rather colorful logo (themed turquoise and orange) etched on it. "See, mommy gave me Keanu for my birthday last week.

"She bought him straight from that Mons' Mart over there." Her finger was aimed at a well-lit shop a few meters down the sidewalk, one Chris and Veemon would've passed without a single glance had the little girl chose not to interrupt them. "So I was wondering where you—

The stupefying words snagged Veemon from his thoughts hook, line, and sinker. "B-B-B-BOUGHT?" he stuttered. "**MONS' MART**?"

It flabbergasted him to hear her say Keanu was just **purchased**. His glare was fierce, causing the girl to step back in fear. _That's crazy!_ The blue dragon kicked off Chris' back with a backflip, scurrying to the very store despite Christopher's outburst. "Vee!"

He had to see it for himself. A store selling digimon? He just HAD to.

He could barely restrain his gasps when he ran up to it and stared through the windows with the curiosity of a wondering boy and the culture shock of a foreigner forced to face something that went against the customs and ideals of his home.

Scores of digimon, mostly _Babies_ in their second stage, lived in **cages**. Each was fed with tasteless, processed food while being displayed callously and **humiliatingly** for all to see. The portable prisons were fully open, leaving no cover for their private activities.

Small and cramped, the living spaces were ghastly. Veemon sauntered closer to the window in his stupor, ogling inside as he leaned on it. **All** the digimon had black spirals, even the Child-levels sold within. Even from outside the store he could hear each one of them spelling out the syllables of their names.

Grief and confusion colored their bleating.

A bell rang beside him. Turning, Veemon glimpsed a middle-aged man leading a blue-furred dog wearing a red bandana out the door. He tugged at the leash, pulling the reluctant digimon out even if it tightened the leash around his neck. "Come on!" the human hissed.

"Gao!" yelped the canine, trailing after him on all fours. "Gao-oooohhhh!"

The human kicked him in the balls. "Dumb animal! C'mon, go!"

Veemon swallowed his revulsion and snuck in.

Wada Kouji's _Target ~Akai Shougeki~_ was the first thing he heard upon entry: the opening theme of _Digimon Adventure Zero Two_. **Their** animé series. The song brought back memories of accompanying Daisuke Motomiya in his epic quest for a recording artist, and it was a stroke of luck that Wada Kouji was a friend of Yamato Ishida.

The first thing he **saw**, however, was a sign. A large one held up by a rather flimsy-looking stand.

**MONS' MART**

Man's stop for everything Mon

– Japan's **only** DSI-sponsored SCAI dealer –

Many cardboard sheets dangled above him from the ceiling, all saying the same thing: "SALE! Buy one SCAI, 80% off the next! Plus free accessories!"

Veemon slowly ambled across the store, his eyes going from one side to the other. _This is a dream_, he kept repeating in his head. _This isn't real. It's only a dream._ Then he stepped into a section devoted to accessories and food, where processed food was sold in sacks. Hanging on the shelves were vivid outfits Veemon would never **ever** wear, no matter how much chocolate was promised him. Clothes made for the Baby digimon. The leashes. "Triband repair kits".

The whole ensemble left Veemon speechless.

A piece of paper crumpled beneath his foot with a noisy crunch. The claws on his three toes tore into it a bit. Still, the blue dragon picked it up and examined it out of curiosity. It was a receipt, presumably dropped by an outgoing customer. The Digimon of Miracles didn't care for the transaction data in front; his interest was concentrated on the fine print on the back of the slip.

Veemon understood every word. Just because he was childish, cheerful, and happy-go-lucky did not mean he wasn't astute. "Sales policy," he read out loud. He skimmed the page, squinting to discern the tiny font.

_Mons' Mart is committed to a satisfactory customer experience. If you are dissatisfied with any of our products, we accept returns up to 30 days from point-of-sale. Proof of purchase is required. Returns of self-conscious artificial intelligence (SCAI) require documents pertaining to ownership including a Certificate of Approval from any authorized triband inspector. Product exchanges are allowed on a case to case basis, but generally require…_

He skipped a few more paragraphs. One particular line caught Veemon's attention.

_Mons' Mart is authorized by the Digital Suppression Initiative to perform maintenance of triband suppressors and, if required, confiscate SCAI's displaying anomalous behavior and forward them to the nearest domestication facility for repair._

Veemon's hands were shaking. "Returns? Product exchanges?" His murmurs were barely audible, yet to him, they were as loud as if he was shouting to the skies. "Triband suppressors? Anomalous behavior? **DOMESTICATION?**"

He shred the paper and scattered the pieces. _WHAT IS THIS!_ The Chosen ventured deeper, hoping that was the last of it, hoping that was the end of this horrible nightmare, not knowing the next thing he saw was the last straw that broke him.

Noises were coming from the very back of the store, in a room restricted to employees. Noises his ears found familiar. Grunts and squeals that formed the knots of understanding and slowly held his throbbing heart in a cold grip.

The door was ajar.

As he snuck in, Veemon averted his red eyes to the poster plastered on it. It was the government's way of reminding all those who gazed upon it to comply with its laws and regulations.

A photograph of a man in uniform, reminiscent of a cop from the National Police Agency. Veemon's understanding of the Japanese enabled him to distinguish this man from an NPA officer, eyeing the distinctive logo of the DSI, the multiple decorations and markings on the pure, gray uniform.

_The Digital Suppression Initiative strives to make the world a better place. Our Peacekeepers are dedicated to the best interests of humanity and their mother country. Through our partnership with the National Police Agency, your local law enforcement agencies are well-equipped to deal with Wild Ones and minor criminal activities as defined under the 2012 amendment to the Penal Code of 1947._

An icon of a shady humanoid figure with (obviously) suspicious eyes darting about was printed underneath the text, accompanied by a similar silhouette of a digimon that looked oddly like a howling Agumon.

_Tokyo is built on the strength of our residents. Join us in keeping the Shibuya Ward free of crime and digital pests. Immediately report all suspicious individuals or activities to the nearest police department._

Two words stood out. Veemon's eyes focused sharply on them like a sniper scope being trained on the head of a target.

Digital pests.

A rush of anger percolated in him. Digimon weren't pests! Digimon were friends. **Partners** **for life**. Just _standing_ inside this store was nauseating, threatening to yield to a fury even Veemon himself was unaware of.

For everything in Mons' Mart stood against his beliefs. It expressed the very opposite of Veemon's ideals, undermining his naïve and innocent paradigms on the sacred partnership between digimon and humanity. The very notion of selling digimon, of _buying_ a partner and taking care of him or her like one would care for a PET mocked, derided, and **ridiculed** the brotherly love between him and Daisuke and the affectionate friendship growing between him and Chrisotpher.

This wasn't right.

None of this wasn't right!

The door just _had_ to give in to his weight, allowing Veemon to walk in and take in a sight so sickening—so _appalling _it churned his stomach and brought up the urge to vomit. Veemon was rooted to the spot, his feet paralyzed.

"W-w-w, w-what…."

He took deep breaths. He forced his nerves to calm down. But no! No! Nothing he did worked. Nothing he did alleviated the jelly-like quivering in his legs and the rapid-fire beating of his heart.

The first he saw were cages. Units and units of cages far smaller than those on display outside, each pinioning Baby digimon squirming around in immovable prisons. They were stacked upon each other, seemingly designed for bulk transport.

All the digimon whined and cried, like the infants they were. They squealed. They moaned. Worst of it all, Veemon can understand everything they said. Veemon can comprehend every word and syllable rumbling out their throats with the pitch and tone of a human baby crying for its mother.

**THEY COULD ****STILL TALK.**

"Where, where am I?" spoke one.

"I don't like it here," another wept, exuding a despair the Digimon of Miracles could easily sympathize with. "Hei, I don't like it here. Please, where are you… I need you…"

His ears were bombarded by the booming crashes of a cantankerous prisoner, ramming its body on the cage, personal injuries be damned. "Going home! Going, home!"

There were so many more just like them. All clamored in despair. All trapped in its bosom, being digested alive by the crippling claustrophobia, the unfeeling atmosphere, and the sheer loneliness of being away from their partners. None of them even spoke to each other, for all were too disoriented and confused to even think of seeking help from one another.

But had they even attempted it, it would've only resulted in a pain and agony of knowing one's freedom was about to be lost, of knowing one's self was on the brink of being expunged forever in a process largely unknown in their waking memory.

Veemon would never know this. Veemon would never understand this. But Veemon knew exactly what they were facing: the anxiety of separation, the uncertainty of the future, the fear and terror of whatever fate awaited them.

A poster next to the cages caught his eye. The blue dragon's excellent vision enabled perception of the images and text below.

Two different scenarios were juxtaposed. A corpulent, half-naked digimon with boxing gloves and plenty of facial hair towered above a human, beating the latter to a bloody pulp. On the other side was its complete opposite. A photograph of love and warmth, where a white, spotted seal hugged an innocent girl and had one of two pigtails in its mouth.

Veemon recognized the digimon without fail.

Nanimon had crushed his human companion without remorse, violently proclaiming his victory and domination over an opponent who didn't even look _capable_ of fighting back. In contrast, Gomamon was friendly to the child—a pink heart was crudely drawn above the two and the image appeared to highlight the black spiral conspicuously attached to Gomamon's arm.

_SCAI's have been scientifically proven to be inherently dangerous and prone to violence and hostility. The Digital Suppression Initiative aspires to regulate such behavior and foster their harmonic coexistence with humankind.*_

_**YOU**__ can help us by following __**R.D.N.A.**__!_

_**R**__emember to bring your SCAI to its quarterly triband inspection program.**_

_**D**__ropoff newly-born SCAI to the nearest DSI-accredited depository for domestication.**_

_**N**__ever tamper with the triband suppressor. Do NOT attempt to fix it without the supervision of a DSI-authorized inspector._

_**A**__lways report any Wild Ones and suspicious SCAI's to your local police authority. Approaching them without a Peacekeeper is inadvisable and may result in severe injury or death._

_* Visit our website for more information on the DSI vision-mission, the Kurata and Oak study on SCAI sociology, and the Fourth of July tragedy._

_** Triband inspections and domestication drop-offs are mandatory by law. Failure to comply will result in a penalty up to ¥100,000 and/or a compliance audit._

The message it promulgated was as clear as day. Digimon without dark spirals—without _tribands_—were dangerous and hostile. The DSI "regulated" the behavior through them, encouraging it further by using the rule of law to force citizens into perpetuating their enslavement.

Veemon's instincts urged him to grab **both** posters and rip them to pieces, chewing them with his teeth and spitting on the remains in the spirit of defiance and contempt. How hypocritical could the Digital Suppression Initiative be? They strived to "make the world a better place"? They aspired to "foster harmonic coexistence"?

SLAVERY was not and would _never_ be harmonic coexistence. How could they even say digimon were "inherently dangerous and prone to violence and hostility"? Humans and digimon were _equally_ belligerent! _Equally_ attracted to good and evil! Forms and core competencies aside, Veemon knew there was **virtually no difference** between men and monsters. None at all.

The years spent living with Daisuke and his family taught him this. The friendships he's had with other monsters taught him this.

Yes, the Nanimon was beating the human to a pulp but the poster never ventured into what kind of thought processes he had. Why was he pummeling the man into submission? What were his motivations? What were the _circumstances_? The Gomamon's case was an outright lie, lobbed onto his muzzle like a man would spit on someone from utter condescension—the warmth and happiness came at the cost of freedom. Smiles bought at the expense of logic and speech.

But the people who'd see this poster would never understand this unseen message. They would most likely—and much rather—perceive the uncontrollable Nanimon as an untamed barbarian, and associate love and kindness in the dark spirals.

Veemon shook his head. Drool fell from it, emphasizing the stupor that brought his brain to a standstill. This was insane. This was completely insane. Somewhere in the back of his head, he realized this was a world where digimon and humanity coexisted.

A world where digimon were enslaved by dark spirals and demeaned into glorified pets. A world where free digimon were considered dangerous and hostile. A world humanity reigned, lording it above all, never acknowledging their equals, exploiting every natural resource within reach as if it was theirs alone to command.

It was a dark and twisted world. This was not what he and Daisuke fought for. This was not what the Twelve wanted. Was this why Ken didn't want him going out into the Real World? Was this what they were trying to protect him from? This system of exploitation, cruelty, and oppression?

Could humans still be friends? Could humans still be trusted? Had he been wrong all this time? Had he been so childish—so foolish—to even think—

"Ah! Look, there's another digimon out there!"

The jarring voice returned Veemon to reality, where he found himself being gawked at by _every single digimon _in the cages.

"He's not one of those **pets**. You can see it in the eyes!"

Those two sentences spread uproar among the Babies. Soon, each clamored for help and assistance.

"Please, help us!"

Desperate.

"You've just gotta! I don't know why I'm here. I was in my bed with Aoki and—

Anxious.

"We just wanna go home. Let us out! Please!"

Veemon stood there, doing nothing, still in a daze from the triple whammy he took. His beliefs were struck. His naivety challenged. His philosophy assailed. His mind told him to help, to reach for the cages and rip off the metal frames. To liberate them from their fate.

But when he tried to move his body, they were still paralyzed. Unable to move. The experience had stunned him so much it took almost a nerve-wracking ten seconds to start moving again.

The Chosen sprinted towards the cages, hoping he could free them from their peril. _They're making too much noise_. He thought he heard footsteps coming in from the side. Already he could feel someone's grubby hands fall on his shoulder…

"Guys, calm down!" Veemon tried to shush them. "Quiet! If someone hears you, they might come here and—

"Hey tharr, liiiittle fella."

Veemon froze.

A burly woman was gazing at him, looking at him in the eye. The eye contact was powerful. It brought Veemon to a halt and for some reason, everything became quiet, as if the world around him became mute.

"Nev'h seen somet'in like ya before." She took a few steps towards him. "Hehe, darn cute for a SCAI. Makes me wondah who owns ya." The fuzzy hand reached for the black spiral on his arm. "Nao, letsch she where ya'r frum."

He found the tone of her voice suspect. It was the kind of voice used in those crappy movies and TV shows where the rapist was about to violate someone, or where the serial killer was on the brink of consummating his sick fantasies. The blue dragon didn't like her accent either.

Veemon had to go defensive.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, slapping the hand away. His outburst stunned the employee for three seconds. Three precious seconds he used to slide underneath her manly legs and make a break for the door.

_I'm sorry_, he apologized. _I'm __**really**__ sorry. _Veemon couldn't free any of them. Attacking the employee was out of the question. He didn't like what those posters were implying: the store was monitored by the DSI. The DSI had its people scattered throughout the city as far and wide as the NPA deployed its police force.

Everything he could've accomplished in the Real World—finding Daisuke, reuniting two separate groups of Chosen Children, tilting the odds in their favor—could be easily neutered by something as simple as freeing the Babies. There was nothing he could do _now_. He had to go back for them later, or save them all at a later time in those wretched domestication facilities.

The employee he evaded pursued him, summoning help. "MALFUNCTIONING TRIBAND HARR!" she announced. "Dun let da bloo SCAI esh-capeh! Get 'im!"

_AGH! I should've knocked her out!_

Two more employees appeared and cut him off. They sprinted towards him, unafraid of the fact he was a three-foot dragon, agile and strong. Veemon's honed reflexes had his hands reach down his baldric for his g—he snarled. _Grrr! Stupid Chris, I forgot he took my stuff!_

So much for shooting them in the legs.

Still, the pair before him was slow. Slow compared to Christopher. Compared to the Modifiers. Compared to the DSI's soldiers. With all his combat experience, with all his strength, the Chosen's most optimal counterattack were a leaping attackon one and a subsequent rebound that'd allow him to hammer his foot on the other's head. Judging from their sluggish, unprofessional movements, he **knew** he could pull it off.

Veemon wasn't thinking when his body moved of its own accord. He launched from the tiled floor, plunging his head onto one man's solar plexus. The nose on his muzzle tore through the clothes and the skin, coating it in blood. In a split-second the dragon kicked off his victim and, instead of incapacitating the other employee, bounced towards an empty aisle and dashed into it.

Then the burly woman popped out of nowhere and flanked him. But Veemon's keen eyes saw an opening from above. Dexterous feet enabled him to ascend the shelves with every advancing step and kick off from the top, somersaulting above the woman and rebounding off the wall to her right. _There's the door!_

He felt her filthy hands slide against his tail, almost catching it in a tight grip. Had he been a second too late he would've been caught. Veemon shot a glance left as he landed. He rolled forward in the nick of time, barely avoiding a strong kick from a _third_ employee. One that would've sent him flying back towards the ugly woman. "Whoa!"

Veemon arrived at the last aisle and ran, passing by cages full of digimon barking eponymous syllables, all of whom were excited by the commotion he was causing. The blue dragon noticed a female teenager barring his path. Was it an employee? Or was it a customer?

"CUM BAKKU HARR, YOU!" the burly woman trailed after him, abnormally fast with her pudgy legs.

There's no time to confirm!

The teenager in front of him lashed her arms out, a move he thought aggressive. "NO!" Veemon bellowed, swiping the limbs away from him. He didn't care if his claws scratched her arm. He just had to get out of there.

The exit was so close. He reached out for it, taking one step after another. Veemon, feeling safe now, dared to look back, pulling down his left eyelid and sticking out his tongue. A juvenile Japanese taunt. "BLEEEEHHHHH!"

When the Chosen turned to face the exit and swing the door open—BAM! Straight in the eyes. "YOOOOW!"

Tears streamed from his eyes. He tried to open them, but his vision was blurry. He couldn't make anything out. Some bastard opened the door right in his face, hitting his eyes and muzzle: his weakpoints! Veemon took several steps back, spinning out of control, woozy and dazed. _Can't… get…_

Veemon lifted his feet and **willed** them to move, but as they advanced one measly pace a pair of rough and calloused hands grabbed his sides and lifted him up. _N-no!_ Veemon thrashed, struggling to break free. _NO! _"Let go!" he yelled. The Chosen couldn't recognize anything. His eyes were giving him obfuscated lines and images and the terror of being sent to the DSI's domestication facility had hit him completely.

He would never see Daisuke again. He would be like one of those pathetic creatures out there, devoid of logic, emotion, and free will, incapable of saying anything except his own name. A humiliated pet instead of the greatest friend anyone could ever hope to have.

He couldn't accept this. This wasn't his fate! He was a Chosen. He was Daisuke's partner! Many counted on him and he refused to disappoint. "Let go!" he clamored, flailing his hands around, hoping to strike the person's face. But he wasn't hitting anything. Nothing but air. His eyes were shut, still recovering from the blow. "LET, ME, GO!"

Driven to a corner, Veemon had no choice but to open his mouth as wide as he could and charge ahead, crunching down on the person unfortunate enough to be in his bite's path. And he struck gold! His teeth found a shoulder and driven purely by instinct and the desire to escape Veemon bit as hard as possible.

The man holding him hissed in pain, but his grip remained, even when the dragon tasted blood on his tongue. Veemon increased the pressure on his jaw, only for nothing to happen. Whoever had him was too resilient. Had too high a pain tolerance. If he was going to be put down, he wasn't letting that happen without a fight!

"Dammit, you're making a scene!"

But when he tried to move, he couldn't anymore. His captor already wrapped his arms around him, clinging to him like flypaper. Rigid and inflexible. There was nothing he could do anymore. He'd been captured, and that was it. It was over.

Had Veemon been calmer, he would've noticed the distinct smell of the ocean entering his nose. As it was, the blue dragon was anxious from the ordeal, his heart beating like crazy, and his thoughts still torn over the fate of becoming nothing more than a domesticated dog.

Only when he heard his captor speak did his anxiety cease to exist. "Veemon!"

His muscles relaxed. He stopped struggling, and soon enough, the adrenaline faded away, yielding to the feeling of safety. Christopher Van Numen had caught up to him. While he was _obviously_ the creep who smacked the door in his face, he was also the one who picked him up right after. Veemon didn't need to verify this with his eyes when the scent was clearly Chris' and the way he was being held down was firm, yet gentle enough to give him some wiggling room.

They weren't out of the woods yet.

Once Veemon's eyes had recovered, he peeked at his surroundings. Panning his crimson gaze, he saw a combination of employees and customers. A number of people he'd never realized in his earlier shock. Every person in the room was watching them, their staring eyes as wary as the suspicious glares he received while asking for directions.

The noisy digimon rattling the cages and filling the air with their names were subdued by an employee violently kicking the little prisons. "The fu—! Shut up you little pricks!"

Veemon's scowl vanished as soon as he noticed the burly woman approaching them. He tightened his grip on Christopher. "Don't let 'em take me," he muttered.

"Shir," said the pudgy lady, speaking with an obvious lisp and a funny accent he couldn't exactly place. "Ish dat yur Shhh-SCAI?"

Pause.

"Yur digsh-shimon."

Christopher remained composed throughout the whole thing. "Yes," he replied nonchalantly. "Why were you chasing him?"

"We buh-leev itsch triband'sh mal_func_tioning."

"Triband?"

She lifted her stubby finger. "Da shpiral on itsch armu."

"He's fine. There's nothing wrong with him, believe me."

Veemon realized Christopher was the **only one** using a pronoun. Everyone else referred to him as an "it". Even the little girl earlier. _What's wrong with these people?_

"I'm noth conn-vinsht. It wandurred into arr storr-rum and almosht frid arr confish-cated Sh-CAI."

Christopher glared at him. Veemon couldn't help staring back. The goldenrod eyes brimmed with ire, while the red ones responded with guilty sheepishness. It was almost a telepathic conversation. The dragon wasn't looking forward to Christopher scolding him for doing something so stupid and reckless.

Then again, put into perspective, **anything** was better than literally losing himself.

"We'll fixsh any damageh fur frree, of corsh," she muttered. This woman was obviously the manager. Veemon wondered how someone as repulsive as her could even hold the position. He could _barely_ understand the words coming out her trap! "We've gotta uhm workshop at da bakku."

"And if I refuse—

"Then I'll repart youz to the DSI. It'sh agensht da low. But youz **should** know dat if yur itsh ownarr."

As soon as she said it, she backed away, eyes fixated on Christopher, dilating fearfully. Curious, Veemon turned his head and saw for the first time the intimidating glare being used at someone else. Successfully, apparently.

"Trust me, there's **nothing** wrong," the blond asserted, keeping his voice low and _hostile_, dispensing the impression encroaching Veemon's personal space was tantamount to something as invasive as trespassing in someone else's property.

"W-we'll," she said, gulping her fears down. "We'll shee."

Her resolve was impressive. Even though Christopher conveyed his aversion to the prospect of someone merely approaching the blue dragon, lacing his words with an unspoken warning, she still forced the issue on principle, when others would've caved in.

Veemon nonetheless refused to cooperate. The longer he stayed in Mons' Mart, the more he was being haunted by the Baby digimon screaming for help, destined for a fate worse and more humiliating than permanent deletion. The cold, emotionless words of the posters were screaming in the back of his mind, and every time he gazed on the pudgy hand approaching his slender arm he saw a DSI Peacekeeper reaching out to him.

_Stay away!_ He clung to Christopher tighter than before, sending the burly manager a stare filled with daggers. His lips curled back to reveal sharp, jagged teeth, complementing the rather vicious and animalistic snarl rising in his throat. "Rrrr…"

"Shir," she stopped. Though her relaxed composure did not show it, Veemon could perceive the fear dribbling in her shaking voice. "M, make shure it co-_op_-peratesh."

"Vee!" he heard Christopher whisper in his ears. "They're all **staring** at us. What the f*cking hell are you doing?"

Veemon snarled. "I'm not letting _anyone _go near—

"She _has_ to see the damn thing on your—

"No! I just wanna get outta here. T, this, this _place_, i-i, it's—

"Like she'll let us leave without tattling on the DSI, idiot."

"Meeeehhhhh!"

"Argh. Okay, how about this: **I **hold your arm, and she just looks?"

"Well..."

His volume dropped low enough so only Veemon could hear it. "If she asks me to hand you over we're _bolting_ the place. Back to the rooftops, got it?"

Veemon did not reply, choosing to relax the tension in his arm, which Chris took as a sign of approval. The man was true to his word, holding out the arm for the manager to see. "So what do you think?"

He didn't want to even look at her. The thought of someone who stripped digimon of their very identities and sold mere shells for a living disgusted him. Veemon would rather floor her down with his own head if he could find the perfect excuse to satisfy his principles.

"Mmmm… tarrn it around. Gotcha shee da entayr thang."

"What exactly are you looking for?" Only Christopher was doing the touching, sure enough. The blond's grasp did not leave him and neither did he feel someone else's. Thank the Harmonious Ones he kept his end of the deal.

"Manyufacturer'sh logo. If da triband'sh _func_-shonal den yur Sh-CAI's behavior ish shimply pard of da develop't programming. DSI hash hefty regulationsh on dat." Then the fat lady chortled. What was laughter to her sounded more like pigs oinking a musical in public. "Youz **do** know hao dengeroush deesh monshtersh arr wid-awt shuppreshors, right?"

"I suppose…"

"Lasht monthh, sham kid widda Wild One had his Sh-CAI killa boolly."

"Mhm."

"Entayr family got inveshtigated fur linksh to da Digideshtined aftarr dat."

Digidestined.

Taichi's group in the Real World. _That_ got his attention.

Chris rotated the arm again. Veemon shifted to improve his purchase and relax a little bit. Being inside Mons' Mart still bothered him, but now that things were calming down, he was becoming more aware of his surroundings. His scarlet eyes went to a female teenager in one of the aisles, gazing at him with unmistakable fright.

"And what happened next?"

When she realized Veemon was staring at her, the teenager averted her eyes and stared at something else, not wishing for eye contact. He trained his sights on her arms and discerned the scratches he made in his frantic rush to escape. They weren't enough to cut her wide open, but enough to sow pain.

Inadvertently he reinforced the message being spread by those damnable government posters. The irony.

The teenager gradually aimed her eyes on him again, and when she did, Veemon mouthed a word she hoped would understand. "Sorry."

If she comprehended the silent message, the teenager did not show it. Although the fact she decided to leave the store after receiving it was a good sign.

"Nevurr had linksh to da Digideshtined in da foist plaish, but dey evunshually moved awt frum all da hate crimesh hitting 'em."

"Hate crimes? Shit."

The manager didn't hear his comment. She was too busy gasping like she had an orgasm. Two of them. "M.M." she echoed softly. If bellowing like a fog horn was ever "soft".

"What?"

"Dat explainsh it all. No wandurr yur Sh-CAI actsh weird!"

"Can you explain?"

"Sho shorry, shir. M.M. shtandsh fur '_Monshter Makersh_'."

"'_Monster Makers_'?"

"Yah. Deyr a lot shmaller dan da bigguh manyufacturersh like _Hypnosh_ or _DATSh_, but damn, dey make da best tribandsh I've evur laid my eyesh on. Bery expenshive, too! An old model like yoursh shtill beatsh ebryone elsh's by a loooong shot."

"Okay, so Vee's got a _Monster Makers_ triband. What makes this, uh, different from _Hypnos_ or _DATS_?"

"M.M.'sh known tah develop advansh'd programsh fur deyr tribandsh." Veemon could sense her presence moving away from him, backing away now that her investigation was concluded and, they're, hopefully, in the green. "Dey want da downshtream conshyumersh tah feel like deyr getting' unregyulated Sh-CAI's—Wild Onesh!—when deyr not. It'sh DSI-accredited, of corsh, but rated at da lowesht transh shhiiiiiinnce deyv run intah some compliansh problemsh da past two yearsh."

Pigs were oinking again. "Ya can't deny dey make da best. _Monshter Makersh_ isha really popyularr brand. We'd make more shalesh if we could get a contract—

Christopher was not interested in hearing the woman ramble. Veemon preferred to think he got sick listening to the pigs. "Sooooo, he's good?"

"Yosh," said the manager. He could imagine her giving the blond a thumbs-up and a smile. The image was so wretched Veemon actually gagged. "But if I were youz shir," she advised, "I'd go back to wharrevarr youz bought it and get a new triband. I.M.O., talking Sh-CAI attract too mush trouble."

"Thank God," Veemon heard the blond mutter. "It's over." Chris bid the woman farewell. "I'll, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

Veemon glanced back and caught her bow. If he wasn't so upset, he would've fallen on the ground laughing his tail off, for the manager looked like an oversized boar struggling to bend half its body. "Goodbye, shir," she spoke. "Shorry fur da inconveniensh."

The door shut behind them. As soon as they were out and walking again, "Holy shit. Did it ever occur to you just how CLOSEthat was?"

"Close?" He couldn't believe what he was saying. "But you handled it pretty well…"

"Seriously, Veemon, we **got lucky**." The blond shot a look back the way they came to see if they far enough already. Since he was still carrying Veemon in his arms, the dragon already knew they were far from Mons' Mart. The farther they were the better.

Then the interrogation began.

"Now, why the **f*ck** did you leave me?"

* * *

When Veemon kicked off from Christopher in a mad dash to the nearest Mons' Mart, Chris had one hell of a time thanks to that little girl. "Vee!" he cried, starting after him until he felt her tug on his arm.

"Just tell me where you bought him," she pleaded, giving Chris a very wide smile. "Pllllleeeeaaaassssseeee."

"Sorry, but I don't have time for this."

"No faaaaiiiirrr!" whined the girl, strengthening her grip. "I want a talking digimon, tooooo!"

Chris heard a car door slam behind him. "Coco!" The girl's mother walked out of the vehicle and strutted towards her daughter in a protective stride. "Get away from him!"

"What're you doing here, mama?" the girl, Coco, asked, feigning innocence.

She scolded her, not foolish enough to buy her act. "Don't tell me you forgot we're having dinner out tonight! I was waiting for you by the school."

"…Sorry, mama," she apologized. "I _did_ forgot."

The mother wasn't finished yet. She glowered at Christopher, raised her index finger, and trained it at him like a gun. "What do you think you're doing, poisoning my Coco's mind with all this bullsh*t about talking SCAI?"

"What _I'm_ doing?" Chris jeered defensively. "**She**'s the one who approached me!"

"I've been trying to pound all that talking SCAI nonsense out her head," she snapped in an irrationality commonly associated with overprotective parents. "Tossed out all those stupid _Digimon Adventure_ DVD's, for one. And now I find her begging **you** to find one for her?"

Christopher mouthed a reply but was brusquely hushed. "People like you corrupt children without even knowing." The angry mother turned and sidled back into her car. Chris watched her slap little Coco once just as she closed the door. Even as they left, Christopher could see the woman send over a piercing glare. _Nutty mothers._

Remembering Veemon had run off on his own, he followed him into the Mons' Mart. Opening the door as soon as he got there was a little mistake: he had swung it right into the poor dragon's face while (he was) fleeing from its employees. A rather husky woman approached him and engaged in a rather tense conversation. She turned out to be the manager.

When he heard the other digimon yap syllables, it dawned on him that Cupimon wasn't the anomaly here. _Veemon_ _was_. Most digimon in the Real World knew only how to pronounce their names, lacking any real personality at all to begin with. They were no better than glorified pets.

It may have been only a week, but Christopher knew Veemon well enough to know he was adorably (and annoyingly) childish in temperament and character. Despite this, the blue dragon had a mature side to him, for he operated on a rigid, personal set of values. Principles Chris had an intimate history with.

Cupimon—and these creatures caged around him—gave him nothing to work with. Not even first impression. If there _was_ one, then it would be the image of animals. Mindless animals living on nothing but instinct.

The Citramon was no different. Even if he was gifted with formal, garrulous speech he was still as mindless as the digimon wearing the black spirals. Governed no longer by instinct, but by a limited sense of logic.

When the fat lady gave her thumbs-up, all the blood pumping in his veins relaxed. All the anxiety built up thanks to Veemon's abrupt and emotionally-charged visit to the damn store died down, yielding to relief. Only as they walked out of Mons' Mart did he realize they were released simply because the manager, in retrospect, was unfamiliar with the _Monster Makers_ brand. "Holy shit. Did it ever occur to you just how CLOSEthat was?"

"Close?" Veemon furrowed his brow in disagreement. "But you handled it pretty well…"

The dragon didn't really listen to their conversation. He would've agreed otherwise, Chris supposed.

"Seriously, Veemon, we **got lucky**."

Christopher Van Numen looked back. The farther they were from that effing store and that effing manager the better. Veemon's gaze was still trained on the store.

First that girl and her Kapurimon. Then that whole thing with Mons' Mart. What exactly did he see in there? When he finally caught to him, it was as if all the progress Veemon made since the public toilet vanished in an instant. Everything that defined the blue dragon, everything Christopher knew him to be, was replaced by unparalleled fear. Permeating his eyes, his body language, and _everything else_ was the air of someone whose view of the world was shattered by reality.

Chris was mentally kicking himself now. None of this would've happened if they separated! Had the blond caught him before he could even take one step towards Mons' Mart and went in with him on his back, maybe there wouldn't have been a chase scene to resolve. Maybe Veemon didn't have to be transformed into something that… something that just wasn't him.

The blond's goldenrod eyes peered at the dragon, who reciprocated the eye contact. True, he looked normal _now_, but that by no means meant the wounds and injuries borne by his psyche had healed.

Although Christopher did not feel a thing when he saw all those cages inside the store, when he saw every person in the room staring at the blue dragon like _he_ was an uncontrollable and berserk rhinoceros, what bothered him deeply was how Veemon reacted to the psychological damage.

What he saw earlier left the bitter taste of pity in his mouth. Chris knew what it was like to have everything you believed in ripped apart and pulverized by the real world. He knew **exactly** how it felt to realize that everything you fought for was for naught, and that in the grand of scheme of things, it was a sick and horrible game.

A game played by God.

A tapestry woven by the twin sisters of Destiny and Fate.

Veemon had no idea how much Christopher Van Numen could relate to him. It was almost common courtesy for anyone in his place to delve into this curious part of his history. Yet the blond decided against it. He did not believe one week of close friendship justified disclosing something so personal.

That did not stop him from praying for Veemon. Praying this Daisuke he loves so much had not changed at all in the years they've been separated and would never even think of hurting him, always thinking about his partner from whatever hole he dug himself in. Chris may not have been attached to his three-foot friend, but that did not mean he held no empathy for the pain he just suffered.

"Now, why the **f*ck** did you leave me?"

Just because the man sympathized with the digimon did not mean he held no anger for his sudden desertion.

No answer.

"You left me alone with that little girl, ran straight into Mons' Mart, and I **had** the luck to end up being scolded by her nutty mother!" A pedestrian gave him an unnerved look as he said these words, probably thinking Christopher flipped his lid talking to the blue dragon he cradled in his arms.

Chris scowled in response, scaring the person off. "And when I _finally_ found you, I had to bail you out. I thought we'd lose our cover back there!"

"At…"

Veemon replied, but he didn't seem to have his signature pep behind it. "At least… at least we're out of suspicion."

"Out of suspicion," Chris huffed, rolling his eyes. "We wouldn't have even gotten into something like that if **you** didn't—

"I HAD TO!" Veemon cut him off. "When she said her mom b-**bought **Keanu from that… that _place_, I had to see everything for myself!"

An older woman walked by with 'that look'. One scowl drove her away. "And? What was so horrible in there you just broke down? You were shivering in fright! I can't even understand how **that's** possible when you've been fighting DSI _soldiers_ way before I came here."

Veemon broke the eye contact. He withdrew, turning away so he could mull it over in silence.

.

.

_Chris slid down the wall, scattering the dust that had rested on it for millennia. He raised his hands and clenched them, willing away the sharp pain in his chest. It did nothing but hone the throbbing agony, its every pulse sending chills coursing throughout his body._

_He couldn't believe it. Everything they believed in. Everything they fought for. Lies. A massive trick that deceived them all! Now they paid the price with their lives. The brief happiness they had, merely respite from the cogs of destiny._

_Four had already fallen. _

_He was the last. _

_A guttural roar resounded through the corridor, jerking him alert. Christopher Van Numen eyed the ancient walls with fear in his eyes. _

.

.

The roar burst into life and howled through the streets of Shibuya, bowling across the air so forcibly Christopher, in an act of instinct, swiveled back the way he came. His breathing became shallow. Left arm protectively securing Veemon, the other wide open and ready for a fight, the hand already on the lower end of the white shaft strapped to his back.

It took ten seconds of staring at the air like a retard before Christopher quashed his fears and exhaled whatever was left. The blond shook his head, still feeling the jitters. He hated these false alarms, these echoes doing nothing except fuel his unending fear, even more so now that he was alone in his journey.

He despised these goddamn memories. They screwed with him and played him like a pansy when he brought his guard down, even for a moment.

Veemon stirred in his grasp. The sudden movement must have surprised him, for he had been alert until two seconds ago when the tension in his body faded and he relaxed his chin on the man's shoulder. Daisuke's partner was silent the entire time.

"You okay?" Christopher asked him, even though it was clear the man deserved the question more than the dragon ever did.

The Chosen said nothing. Body language was noticeably absent and, had Chris been able to rotate his head all the way, those wide, red eyes were welling up in tears. He did not feel like talking. Veemon needed space and letting him be was the only way Chris could give it to him; he didn't seem to feel like walking either.

Veemon needed support. Someone to sustain him and keep his spirits high.

Christopher was bothered by this deviation from his character. Had it been Sally instead of this blue dragon, he would've kissed her, hugged her like any lover would, and voided all that pain with as much intimacy as possible. No words necessary.

But it wasn't Sally he was carrying. It wasn't his beloved priestess who has literally withered in his reach. In his arms was someone he's only known for a week. With whom he forged a _decent_ friendship and tempered it through, what, one day of combat and a few days of recreation and a little bit of drama?

The blond would've laughed it if it didn't come across as tactless.

Veemon needed a close friend. A dear and _important_ friend. His equivalent of Sally or Ivan. The little guy needed Daisuke and whoever else he cherished. Instead he's stuck with this paranoid outsider he barely knew sand has no other reason to be with him except moral suasion and… was that nostalgia he just felt?

Sure, the two of them were close, but they weren't **that** close. Christopher was not the ideal person for this and he _knew_ it.

The blond found himself at an impasse. Once upon a time, a time before this "journey" of his began, bringing him to places he never thought he'd go and meeting people he never thought he'd meet, a younger Christopher would have sworn to help Veemon find Daisuke.

He would have happily absorbed the dragon's radiating sadness like a sponge, all in the name of his ideals and of the mere friendship they shared. The week they just shared would have been enough for the old Chris to willingly share a number of his secrets with the Chosen and lighten the burden that weighed down on him.

So many things happened between then and now. The old Chris was dead, buried and locked away. In his place was a jaded wanderer. A self-centered prick who found it too risky to make friends.

A self-centered prick who felt his heart move when he saw Veemon, in the corner of his eye, look like he was struggling to keep himself composed. His quivering muzzle denoted an internal battle to stay strong, but once muffled whines ambled out his throat, Christopher realized he was losing.

Truly, there were limits to what anyone could endure.

Waves of emotion struck him. Whether it was pity or the long-lost compassion of his youth, Chris would have never identified it. All he knew was **something** strong and overwhelming stirred his arms into curling around Veemon closer than ever, compelling him to caress the dragon's muzzle, discreetly wiping the tears away.

He welcomed this show of care. The Chosen clung tight in reply, almost crushing him with his iron grip, but nothing more than that. Christopher just continued, keeping his hug tight and never relinquishing the touch, even when the tail began wagging again.

Veemon was still silent, but as the minutes passed, the digimon relaxed from the attention, loosening his grip and nodding off, his head leaning on Christopher's like a cushion. His breaths were deep and soft, telling the man his charge was now in some faraway land, away from real life.

The Chosen's nap was so peaceful, the blond might have decided to wake him up out of jealousy if he wasn't so distracted regulating the warm and clammy spot on his shoulder. Chris ogled the dragon and, gently, pushed his muzzle closed… for the tenth time in five minutes.

_His mouth's no different from a broken door and he drools like a river._ He would never understand how Daisuke put up with this in the same bed for years.

A restaurant he just passed caught his eye.

It was a steakhouse, situated on the corner. Moderately populated like any dining place with more-than-decent food.

"No way."

The logo. The design. The ambience emanating from it.

"No effing way."

Christopher rotated with such force Veemon woke. So titillated was the man he never noticed the dragon drying his snout on the collar of his vest.

"Holy mother*cking **shit**, I cannot believe it."

"Can't believe what?" Veemon reached for Chris' head and pushed down. In one quick swoop, he was sitting on his shoulders, legs crossed below the neck. "That's just a restaurant."

"'_Just_ a restaurant'?" He spoke as if the Chosen had just flipped him off. "That isn't _just _a restaurant, you twit. It's a steakhouse! A steakhouse I haven't been to since… since…"

Christopher fell into a trance, his head filled with wonderful memories he had long forgotten. Buried deep inside but always dormant, ready for easy access. The smell of steak wrapped in bacon. The pasta that came with it. The in-house sauce accompanying the dish.

More than that, the shouts and cheers of his closest friends. A father's smile as wide as his cheeks, feeling just as accomplished as his son. A loving kiss from a girl he first met at a soiree. One of the highest points of a life steeped in normality, of a world he had long transcended by then but still coveted like a spoiled child.

"Since what?" Veemon's question interrupted his recollection. Chris didn't realize tears were falling from his eyes until the blue dragon pulled him away from those happy, idyllic times.

He wiped them off on his collar. "Since I left," he said, knowing his listener would understand.

Of course, Daisuke's partner did. "_Your_ world has this too?"

"Yep." Chris began sauntering to the steakhouse.

"Oooooooooh. The food there's good, is it?"

Chris reached up and scratched the dragon's muzzle. "You bet!"

"It better!"

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

"Famished! Haven't eaten since breakfast."

"And vomited a huge chunk of it."

"Uuuuuugh."

Christopher pulled out a wallet from his left pocket, freshly materialized from the R-Scanner's inventory. "Anyway, that Ken guy gave me money before we left. So what do you say to lunch here? We deserve a little break after all that's happened, especiallyyou."

"Sure!" Veemon's tail was wagging like crazy. Chris felt like he had one himself. "I'm actually excited. I've **never** eaten here." He licked his lips, salivating.

"Oh?"

"Yeah! Daisuke always told me his parents thought their food's too expensive. Way I see it, our family just liked other places."

Chris laughed. "You're gonna love their stuff, I swear. I bet you'll drive Daisuke crazy about this place just so he'll treat you to a second visit."

Veemon chortled at the idea. "Definitely!"

He looked up at the dragon, the cute smile on his snout telling Chris this detour was welcome and appreciated. He was glad to have thought of it. It was a win-win situation, he figured. Veemon's belly would have been refilled. He wouldn't be focusing on the depressing revelations of the day. Best of all, Veemon wasn't the only one happy; Christopher was getting his reward to boot: a reminder from the past.

For once, from the good old days.

The days between _that time_ and the journey he now undertook.

But not even the prospect of delicious food and a semblance of normalcy could prevent the steakhouse from greeting the two with a half-full restaurant and a scene that had nothing else better to do except attack Veemon where it hurt.

* * *

Saying the maitre d was shocked to see them could not possibly describe the astonishment gathering within his eyes upon seeing his next customer walk in. A blue dragon sat on his shoulders, looking like a child on the brink of outgrowing this playful display of affection. He eyed the SCAI's owner in idle wonder, curious to see how the blond man was treating his pet.

The headwaiter was surprised to see his goldenrod eyes—and his attention—focusing on this creature. He was busy fondling the dragon's wagging tail, obviously having fun at inducing annoyed, maybe angry, glares from its unnaturally red eyes. Letting out an annoyed growl, it brought its fists down on his head.

He expected its owner to lash out at the SCAI in response. Thought he'd set it down, literally smack discipline into the pet, or employ some other similar but effective punishment. _Not_ catching both hands mid-swing and holding them together while wearing a sly grin.

It was being treated like a human. Like a friend. Like it defied the things separating Man from SCAI.

The maitre d was so astounded by the customer's warm, humanlike treatment of this dirty animal he almost jumped when the man in question approached him. "For two," he said, ignoring the sharp teeth nibbling gallingly on his ear.

Even the way he worded it was strange. Other people who came in with SCAI **certainly** didn't treat their pet like another person in their party. When he handed the menus to such, they wouldn't have acted like this blond fellow and pass one to the dragon sitting next to him in the booth. They would've been tied up underneath the tables, or at least placed beside them and restrained by some chain on their necks.

"Pick whatever you want," he heard the blond say. It was almost hard to believe this man was an alien. He spoke in perfect _Nihongo_. Idiomatic and native. No different from a full-blooded Japanese. The headwaiter might have mistaken this strange man for a Digidestined if he wasn't obviously foreign and an oddball.

The maitre d left the two and asked one of the servers to handle them, all while pondering and mulling in his head what sort of nation in the world treated SCAIs anything more than animals.

"Perhaps the United States," he mused. Americans were always a crazy bunch. "Maybe. Just, maybe…"

* * *

Christopher was well aware of the attention he and Veemon were getting the moment he went inside the steakhouse and saw the headwaiter's look of surprise _and_ the awkward stares following them like security cameras.

Playing with the dragon's tail was a good distraction, but like any other diversion, its effects were never meant to last long. Christopher knew Veemon had finally noticed as soon as tension ran through his arms. The Chosen's fingers wrapped themselves around the blond's hand and squeezed as tightly as possible, releasing all his anger and frustration over the scenery unfolding before his eyes.

He had long expected everything. Everything, except for the strength of Veemon's grip. The pressure exerted on his bones was so intense it **hurt**. This was clearly a reminder of the inevitable, for the dragon had never been _this_ strong last week.

Veemon sat next to him, eyeing the "community" of diners in the steakhouse. Christopher Van Numen scanned the area as soon as he took his place in the booth and focused on those accompanied by digimon of their own.

Compared to the creatures standing by their partners—to be more precise, their _owners_,Veemon was being treated like a king. A third of the tables had monsters no taller than an adult knee idling nearby. Many of them were chained to the posts, tied down like dogs. The smaller ones were in these cute, ostentatious, little bags, stowed in there like objects put on display.

This scene made the dragon wilt in his seat. Though it wasn't strong enough to cause a relapse, there was nonetheless enough strength behind it to glue a frown on his muzzle.

The dragon never bothered glancing at the menu, even after the blond handed it to him, to the consternation of the waiter. Christopher was thrilled to see the menu was the same as it was back home, and that was all he needed to know before ordering the same dish for the both of them.

He gave Daisuke's partner a pat on the back. "Look, bud, don't let your mind linger on this. The more you think about it, the more depressing it gets." Despite his perceptual skills, it never dawned on Chris he was the _only_ person in this establishment paying attention to the monster accompanying him. All the others were either ignored and neglected or doted on like humiliated toys in an ostensible disregard of whatever dignity they should have had.

Veemon's opportunity to relinquish these gloomy thoughts came when the server brought in two steaming plates of steak grilled to perfection, each topped with mushrooms and a glorious barbeque sauce. Both were set before Christopher along with a couple cups of thick, creamy broccoli cheddar soup.

The blond was ecstatic and let out a **very** uncharacteristic squeal of delight. "Ooooooh, I haven't had this in years!" he was whispering to himself, drooling at the sight.

A voracious appetite and a craving for something that _wasn't _Japanese for the first time in his life moved the dragon from his reflections. Veemon, too, salivated at the smoking goodness in front of him and reached for the other plate—

PAK!

The waitress slapped this precious opportunity away. "Tsst!" she scolded out of reflex, the very sound causing him to freeze.

Christopher was too caught up in relishing the flavors until he felt the Chosen stiffen.

Goldenrod eyes ogled Veemon, whose scarlet orbs were staring at the waitress towering above him. She possessed an unmistakably vicious gaze, as if accustomed to dealing with "pests".

"What're you _doing_?" he asked, his last word admonitory.

Her answer did not surprise him. "Sir," she spoke, her kind intonation a heavy contrast to the intimidating glare Veemon received. "Your SCAI's stealing your food." The server's brown pools were the epitome of warmth. Everything she said, everything she did, all relayed the lofty ideals of customer service… so long as Christopher was their recipient. "May I suggest tying it down to the table posts? We won't charge you extra for the restraints."

"No thank you."

"If you don't, it's going to try again."

"That's _not_ a problem," the blond informed her. His tone was almost reproving, sufficient in conveying his growing ire. Her services were not needed for now, he was really saying. In front of the waitress, he pinched the edge of the other plate and pushed it in Veemon's direction 'til it sat in front of him. "If it hasn't occurred to you yet, he's eating **with** me."

Her pair of eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, dilating so widely Christopher could not restrain an amused smirk. She grunted in astonishment and left, certainly disgusted by the idea of a "filthy animal" being treated no differently from a human being.

While Christopher found her reaction entertaining, the Digimon of Miracles was so shaken by it he couldn't bring himself to eat, even when his entire body looked like it was about to devour the dish like a ravenous beast.

He prodded the dragon's arm. "Vee."

"Vee." His side.

His fingers gave a painful pinch. "_Veemon_!"

Veemon gyrated at once, scrunching his eyes from the sting.

Chris glowered. "Why are you just **sitting** there?"

He opened his mouth, and his voice came out stuttering, "I… I-I, I dunno." Veemon absorbed the miserable scenery. He remembered everything he went through that afternoon with a clarity many humans could only hope to match. He must have been thinking of the pregnant lady. Of the little girl and her pet. Of the people he'd seen that day. "I want to eat this so _badly_. But, b-but, after what _she_ did, I-I, I just don't feel like—

"Shut up!" Chris interrupted him with a piece of meat he'd cut for himself, violently slamming his own fork into the Chosen's mouth.

He swallowed. What he gulped down was so tasty it brought the dragon out of his trance. "Whoa!" Veemon licked his chops. "That's _really_ good."

Chris reached for an untouched fork and knife and passed it to him—there were no chopsticks in this place. "Now eat," he commanded. "Forget everything else. F*ck 'em all."

Veemon hesitated to take the utensils. "But…"

"But _what_?" he growled. Now _he _was annoyed. "What's on your mind?"

"I can't stop thinking." Veemon swept his hand across the entire view of the restaurant from their little corner. He alluded to the other digimon around them. "I'm the **only one** eating like this! It's unfair. It's _so _unfair."

One example in particular stood out: a gray lion sitting by his owner in the booth adjacent to the window. Literally a dozen strides away. Had Christopher asked the blue dragon what he was he would've learned he was called a Spadamon, an uncommon species even in the Digital World, known for their blue armor, their fierce loyalty, and golden eyes full of confidence, if not conceit.

Unlike Veemon, however, the only attention Spadamon received from his owner was the occasional "treat": scrap meat straight from the plate or a soggy, discarded bolus spat out from the owner's mouth, rejected for reasons neither of them wanted to know.

With the black triband on his leg, Spadamon was undoubtedly a shell of his former self. Even so, the lion ogled them between every precious morsel going his way like manna. He gaped at Veemon in particular, eyes shining with envy so great it rivaled the sun in intensity and no suppression device could ever take those emotions away.

"Look at the others. They're, they're a-all tied up! Like…"

He hesitated. "L-like, l-l-li—

Veemon couldn't bring himself to say it, his tongue finding the word so repugnant he failed to grasp the word long before Christopher filled in the blanks for him: "Like docile pets?"

"Yes!" the Chosen said. "Digimon… digimon are meant to be _friends_." He stared right at Chris, mouthing off his beliefs as they burst their way out of him like perspiration on a humid, summer day. They homed in on the one channel willing to listen, willing to hear the message they expressed, forgetting completely their listener had been the only one readily indulging them for the past few days.

"They can talk. They can think. They can **feel**! We're no—digimon aren't different from you humans." He slapped his own chest like an ape pounding its pectorals. "Just look at **ME**!"

Chris _almost_ spat out his food in eruptions of laughter. How could Veemon compare _him_ to other humans when **he** wasn't normal himself? It was ridiculous. Absurd! But only out of respect did he hold himself back. "You?" he asked him. "But you're a dragon." He spoke derisively, provoking him so the digimon could finally vent. Let it all out to someone giving him the opportunity to. For Chris had, at his own expense, learned long ago that friends were luxuries one always took for granted, treasures always undervalued, until the day they vanished.

"So?" Veemon took the bait. "Just because I'm a dragon doesn't mean I'm not like you, Christopher. Everyone tells me I'm too playful sometimes—too childish—too annoying. Daisuke used to tell me off, too, but I don't care. I like doing what I do: it's fun! 'Sides, other than Daisuke you're the only one who knows just how I treat those I _really _like.

"Bottom line is, I'm my own **person**," the Digimon of Miracles declared. "Every digimon's one, just like you—just like any other human. We shouldn't be treated like objects; we can think and act for ourselves too!"

Veemon looked expectantly at the blond. Waiting for him to say something. He was ready to meet whatever reply he had with a rejoinder of his own. Chris was hardly surprised to see the Chosen's ardent claims to his own identity and rational autonomy. He was so sure that if he let him talk, the two of them were certainly going to stay in the steakhouse for hours on end, with Veemon preaching like Moses descending from Mt. Sinai, holding the Ten Commandments in hand and backed by the authority of God.

Letting Veemon ramble wasn't going to solve the problem. Talking it out helped, lending an ear alleviated the stress, but for how long? Christopher refused to indulge this. The efficacy of verbal therapy was only so much. He took another bite. "But that's not what everyone else is thinking, Vee. To them, to people like that waitress—like that fatass manager—you're just some animal gone wild."

"And that's not right! I don't even know how humans think—

"Uhhh, I'm not one of _them_."

"I know, Chris, I **know**. But it, i-it, it's just that…!"

"It's just what?"

Veemon exhaled. He turned away, losing steam. "I… I don't know. After, after **everything** that's happened today, everything I've _seen_, I'm, I, I…"

His fists trembled, far more than his own body. "I'm, _starting_ to doubt our vision." Veemon had trouble saying the words, for he couldn't believe it himself. "I know D-Daisuke and, a-and, everyone else will"—the digimon gazed at the man, red eyes brimming with tears almost ready to fall, held back by nothing except his own self-control.—"h, _hate_ me for even thinking it—I don't want to believe it either! I don't wanna acknowledge it!—But, but no matter **what** I do, I can't help thinking it's—

A ting interrupted Veemon. Christopher had brought his fork down and ogled the dragon, a mask of emotions flickering on his face. "It's impossible?" Anger was one of them. "A dream you'll never achieve?" Another, disapproval. "An unreachable _ideal_?"

The dragon went silent.

He got it.

He struck the bull's-eye.

In simply one indignant remark, Christopher Van Numen identified the source of Veemon's insecurity. The virus spreading doubts and uncertainty throughout him. The very reason why he's been so gloomy and serious. Acting out-of-character.

"Why should you care?" he stormed. "That's just life, Veemon. Life **IS** unfair. It doesn't lick you all the time. It doesn't always nuzzle you, treat you with kindness! It bites. It chews. It effing spits on you like you're _nothing_!"

"Then what—

"What _should _you do? Work with what you have," he sermonized. "All the cards either fall in your hand or they don't. But none of that matters! If you want to make something happen, you gotta reach for it. Keep moving forward, **even when all hope is lost**."

Veemon was ogling him now, listening closely. Chris' words were mesmerizing to him, for they carried the weight of someone who rebelled—who _continued_ to defy the lemons of life. Christopher Van Numen's gaze flickered to the Medallion, lingering long enough for Veemon to realize there was something important about it. Something deeply personal. That it was at the very crux of his philosophy.

"People **control** their destiny, Veemon. There is no such thingas fate." Goldenrod eyes gazed into scarlet, their owner leaning forward to accentuate his testimony. "There is only—_only_—the whims and desires of the higher powers. The Gods. The Divine."

He poked the dragon, his index finger sinking deep into his skin. It left Veemon with the impression he was pointing to his very soul. "Do you believe that green worm is meant for Ken? Do you _really_ think you and your… Daisuke are destined to be together? The same for those other 'Chosen' in your little circle?"

Veemon nodded slowly, the expression of his face saying he was unsure of where this conversation headed.

"Then you're wrong! All of you!" Christopher anticipated the fierce glare quickly forming on his muzzle and intercepted it. "Ken—Daisuke could've rejected it. Even you! Any of you could've rebuked the partnership you were '_destined_' for"—he did not hide his scorn, verbalizing the word with seething contempt for everything it stood for. It dripped with so much hatred, even Veemon shuddered at the spiteful tone—"but _no_! Instead you **embraced** what you had and made the most of it!"

An awkward silence took over for a moment before whispers followed its lead. "Yes, we… we accepted it. Everything. We became partners. We became heroes." Veemon's reply denoted an intractable confusion that stubbornly refused to abandon him. "We saved two worlds from evil, and lived together as loving friends." He eyed the Spadamon still ogling him enviously. "But after everything we did, after doing what we were _meant _to do, our 'happy future' turned into **this**! This. World."

This world where digimon were merchandise. Rendered mindless by artifacts of the past.

If only Veemon knew how much Chris could relate. How much he empathized with the sentiments running through that blue skull. Arguing with Veemon like this made Christopher feel like he'd been arguing with himself. The blond didn't know whether he should feel sad or happy for having the opportunity to even talk about this.

"Cope with it," he advised. "If you don't like what you see, if you completely _abhor_ what Earth turned into, then **challenge it**. Break the mold. Shape the future as you desire." Chris cupped Veemon's muzzle with both hands, holding the eye contact, ensuring the blue dragon absorbed everything he articulated. "Don't let your environment govern you. Even something as rigid and absolute as the will of the Gods **crumbles**before the winds of change."

"But, how do you even know this?"

"Honestly?" The blond's voice suddenly cracked, pressuring him to cry out, to release a desperate whimper. His entire declaration was full of emotion, reflecting the beliefs with which the blond journeyed across worlds. "I don't," the man confessed. "I don't even know if I'm right. I'm… I'm still looking for the answer myself.

"But it can't hurt to try, Veemon. Just keep on going. KEEP WALKING!Never, **EVER **doubt your dreams just because fate—destiny—_life _is being hard on you."

He couldn't take it anymore. Christopher broke eye contact and relinquished the white muzzle so he could focus on his food and resume eating. He aimed to distract himself from the grief creeping into his heart as he spoke.

It was a speech meant for its speaker as much as it was for the Digimon of Miracles. He was lecturing himself all this time, urging not to give up, not to focus on the environment, on the heartrending _circumstances_ that now governed his twisted life. All this time Christopher may have been staring not into Veemon's red eyes but into his own reflection within them.

"You know…"

Christopher Van Numen twitched from the sound of the Chosen's voice. He wondered what the blue dragon had to say. Chris feared his thoughts. Dreaded his opinions. _If he disagrees…_

"Daisuke would've said something else. But what you said, I—it—it really made me feel better. A lot better."

He was incredulous. Was Veemon _humoring_ him?

"S-seriously, Chris! No joke! It's—I, I can't, uhm, I can't really explain it. Errr," he dawdled, trying to find the proper words. It wasn't something he could explain easily. "W-when you spoke to me, I felt some sort of connection with you. You were, talking like you know **EXACTLY **what I'm going through. Everything, even my… my feelings…"

Christopher smiled tenderly. _You have __**no**__ idea_.

Veemon hugged him without saying a word, a giant of a grin relaying deep gratitude.

Chris reciprocated the gesture before rubbing the top of his head. "_Now_, will you stop moping around and start eating?" His tone became mischievous. "Or will I just have to eat this for you and you'll just have to sit there and watch?"

"You wouldn't."

The man's hands inched toward the Chosen's plate.

"But I'm _starving_!"

He laughed. "Like I care." Chris began pulling the dish. "Going once!"

"Get away."

"Going twice!"

"It's mine."

"Going, going, _gon_—

Veemon let out a feral snarl and snatched the plate away from him, digging into the steak with his bare hands.

"Dude! You're making a mess."

Chris moved to stop him from turning the table into a pigsty, but Veemon tensed when his hand neared him. "Grrrrrrrr!"

The blond shook his head and smiled as he did so. _He's back to normal now_, he thought. _Hopefully for good_.

He set the unused fork and knife next to the Chosen and waved for the waitress' attention. Christopher had a feeling they were going to bring this place a lot of business. The blond found his entrée lacking, being a garbage disposal in his own right.

It was a good thing Ken had given him a _ton_ of money. His generosity was surely as boundless as his kindness.

* * *

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Final chapter break. (14.3K word count)

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* * *

Agumon watched Taichi Yagami search his pockets for a moment before a white envelope was brought out. He faced the red pillar on the side of the street. The Digimon of Courage watched a grown man and his childish hesitations, unable to decide whether he should slip the letter into the mailbox.

Though impatience shone in the dinosaur's bright, green eyes, Agumon did not do anything. He understood Taichi's diffidence. After all, the letter was addressed to his parents, now living a peaceful life under the _Kamiya_ surname.

He knew what message this letter contained. It was one of finality, encrypted with a code only the Yagami parents could decipher. Within were some summary details of _Operation: Pyramid_, along with Taichi's plans post-operation and personal words reserved for his parents and his parents alone. His sister was described to be kept in darkness, her pristine innocence—or what was left of it—preserved regardless of _Pyramid_'s ramifications.

Neither he nor Agumon were concerned with the DSI intercepting the letter. The code was impenetrable, plus the two of them invested many hours into ensuring the content did not disclose sensitive information.

It was a letter signifying the possibility of death, and Agumon knew how the Chosen Child ended it. _"Though we no longer share the same name, you will always be our mom and dad. I love you."_ The elder Yagami read it aloud to himself and Agumon last night, repeating the message again and again until the digimon was bored and on the brink of throttling Taichi until he fell asleep.

He had been preparing the letter for the past three days, now that _Pyramid_ has received support from quite a number of the Digidestined's combatants—tamers and liberated digimon alike. How they managed to keep both Hikari and Tailmonunaware of the plan had been an almost impossible challenge, but manage it they did and tonight was the eve of the assault.

Agumon pulled the leash constricting his neck, wanting some breathing room. He hated wearing this damn thing. It made him feel like a common dog. A pet.

But what he hated more was saying his name over and over again. Restricted to any permutation of "Agu", the Digimon of Courage couldn't help thinking if human society these days were turning to _Pokèmon_ as a guideline. A benchmark. It was an adorable animé, marketed for kids. But in Agumon's opinion, it spread subliminal messages, encouraging a system of control, a cold and unfeeling scheme of treating monsters as animals and pitting them against each other in tournaments and battles that generally didn't serve any higher calling.

It certainly didn't help some entrepreneurs took inspiration from Nintendo's flagship series and began organizing the very same. The Digital Suppression Initiative was fastidious over the whole setup, taking great care the organized tournaments compromised neither its ideals nor its policies. People found this homage to _Pokémon_ as entertaining as it was addicting, almost like cockfights in the province or Third World nations, except they were more violent, more brutal, and more exciting.

Fortunately, these places have yet to flourish across the globe; the threat of Digidestined retaliation was too great and all too real for depraved and greedy investors to capitalize on this industry.

That some people came up with this testified to humanity's intent on exploiting the digimon for all their worth, rights and ideals be damned. He shuddered at the thought of failure. He shuddered even more, at the thought of endless fighting.

How long must the Chosen Children keep going? How long must the remnants of the Twelve fight? Would the war last until their senior years, when Taichi was an old man, whose accomplishments and talents were spent in a war he'd never win in his lifetime? When the leaders of the Digidestined were descendants of the Twelve, precluded from normal life by their lineage? By the responsibilities of their parents?

Agumon could only hope this _Operation: Pyramid_ he and Taichi were planning for countless days on end led the world down a path to _real_ coexistence. A path to that happy future.

"Aaaagu?"

Finally bored with his own thoughts, Agumon plodded over to his partner and tugged at the polo sleeve dangling by the Chosen Child's wrist. "Gu-a." The dinosaur mouthed, his green eyes gazing impatiently.

Taichi had no problem understanding Agumon's body language. He gulped, and shoved the letter into the box. His deed for the day done, the short and stout digimon handed the elder Yagami his leash, and they went on their way.

How many families have Taichi and Agumon convened with? How much were going to attend the assembly tonight? Were their plans enough to deal with the DSI's security measures? Were the weapons they procured from the black market sufficient in reducing the Digidestined's dependency on tamers and their partners?

Such questions were reserved for Taichi and Agumon's "alone time", when they just sat adjacently and ruminated, drawing strength from their mutual love and respect for each other. Moments only possible between the human and digimon partners. Had Agumon been more appreciative—or quixotic—perhaps he would've thought their bond was tighter than any other sort of bond on Earth. Even tighter than that between husband and wife.

It was depressing to think most of the world was missing out on one of the most beautiful aspects of the partnership. All thanks to the Digital Suppression Initiative, and the concupiscence of the world.

Taichi led Agumon by the leash, but that by no means meant the orange dinosaur was unaware of their route. On the contrary, they had taken it so many times, Agumon could've done it on his own had modern society been more accepting of a lone digimon like him walking the streets of Tokyo without a tampered triband suppressor on his arm.

As they were currently in Shibuya, the shopping center of the metropolis, their destination was a train station, where they took a train headed for the outskirts of Tokyo. From there, a bus would take them to one of the many towns on the mountainside, where they would begin a trek to the Digidestined stronghold.

Their responsibilities were so heavy and time-consuming they often boarded the last bus at six in the evening. For as long as Agumon could remember, there weren't any trips shorter than four hours. And that was merely **one way**.

Dusk basked the sky in an orange glow as the sun gradually disappeared into the horizon. It was starting to get cold, which was hardly surprising given the fact it was fall. October nights could be brutal at times, especially in this era when climate change was rearing its ugly head after decades of human abuse.

Towering high above the Tokyo skyline was the skyscraper of the Digital Suppression Initiative. This building was the global headquarters of the world's recognized authority on digimon, or "SCAI", as they condescendingly coined them.

Accustomed to carrying out Taichi's plans, Agumon wasn't one for understanding tactics and strategy. He had no idea how effective _Operation: Pyramid_ was going to be or how thorough their plans were.

If there was one thing he knew, it would be the tight security. Concrete walls lined a three-kilometer radius from the skyscraper. Every space behind the perimeter was monitored by motion sensors and scanners with the ability to detect digimon lacking working triband suppressors. Worse, as a government agency unencumbered by the taut strings pullng many of its own kind in Japan and abroad, the DSI had direct access to the network of video feeds mapping the city's streets.

A Trojan horse strategy wouldn't be effective. Personnel **and** vehicles were always subject to safety checks, whether they entered the perimeter or exited it. The Digidestined was effectively stripped of any discrete infiltration measures, nullifying the feasibility of undermining the DSI's defenses from the inside.

Only someone with courage and impeccable intuition would dare to even think of attacking this indomitable fortress. The fact Taichi had both was not a gift of Lady Luck. Otherwise, he wouldn't have become the revered leader of the Twelve. He wouldn't be the commander of the Digidestined, either.

He heard the man chuckle. "'Man's stop for everything Mon'," Taichi recited dully.

"Like who'd believe that shit." The Child of Courage spat right in front of the door, earning a few stern looks from pedestrians. His brown eyes met the menacing gaze of the obese woman inside, whose eyes were no different from a factory of blades.

Taichi's hazel eyes peeked at his leg. "Got your triband on?"

A nod. "A-gu."

"Good," voiced his whispers. "We can't have Peacekeepers accosting us. Not _now_."

Agumon watched his human half hunch forward, sticking his hands into his pockets, as if gripping something inside. Despite his casual dress, Taichi Yagami was well-armed. A pair of wooden knuckles was hidden on his person at all times, along with a Glock 26 for good measure. Combined with a concealed bulletproof vest, he was ready for engagement against the DSI Peacekeepers.

Such preparations were necessary in this day and age. Agumon knew this, and sometimes, when his mind wandered, thought it depressing. Gone were the days when the Digimon of Courage alone could protect Taichi and his wits. Now, the enemies were numerous, often splitting their priorities between the Chosen digimon and the human half.

They knew how to exploit the beautiful dynamics of the partnership, mutilating the sanctity of the bond by using it to "kill two birds with one stone". Abusing a weakness none of the Chosen Children anticipated until the Shinjuku March.

_The Shinjuku March_, he thought. A melancholy pall traveled up his spine, forcing up memories Agumon would much rather forget. Memories he quashed as soon as he heard the echoes of a powerful thunder and the sickening spurts of flesh.

"Man," Taichi muttered, oblivious to the painful musings of his digital half, "I wish I still had my hair." The Chosen Child ran a hand across his hair, feeling the spiky tips. Ten years ago, and up until the Shinjuku March and the crackdown that followed, the man sported a wild and untamed afro.

It was his signature. Something associated with no one but Taichi himself. Its wild and barbaric character gave it the semblance of flames flickering in the air. Nobody, let alone Agumon—his own partner, a friend closer to him beyond family, beyond any significant other—could imagine how much effort, how much emotional strength, it took for Taichi Yagami to cut and trim it to something that was so ordinary, so common, it did nothing but mock its former self.

Agumon's snout rammed into pillars of bone and flesh, his nostrils, for a second, impaired by fabric. "Ow!" he blurted, inadvertently blowing his cover (fortunately, no one heard him).

The Digimon of Courage braced himself for Taichi's intense scolding, one he wouldn't dare rebut at risk of alerting the Peacekeepers. But none of that came. No chastising. No censures. He opened his eyes and found the Chosen Child frozen in place, gaze directed at—**through** the windows of the nearby steakhouse.

"Taichi, what's—

Agumon's words were cut off the instant he discerned Taichi's expression: a mask of utter astonishment. Both eyes and mouth were agape, glossed over with the look one would have after seeing someone long considered dead. He considered clamoring for the Chosen Child to lift him up, but after seeing Taichi blanch and stand literally petrified, the orange dinosaur ran ahead to get a better view.

A smile formed on his muzzle as he ran, glimpsing a pair of appendages sticking out from a booth inside. What provoked the smile wasn't their slightly bent shape, but their **color**. Agumon was staring at something unmistakably blue. The brightest, most vibrant blue he ever laid his eyes on.

As far as he knew, only one creature—one _digimon_ had this color.

_It's Veemon!_

Agumon cursed his short stature. Taichi obviously had the better view here and, judging by the paralysis in his legs and a jaw that would've fallen to the concrete if it could, already discerned something that confirmed their suspicions.

A shame the Chosen Child was too stupefied! He could've been riding his shoulders.

Lacking any other alternative, the Digimon of Courage dashed to the corner, unencumbered. His leash uselessly slunk behind him, but his ears ignored it. His attention was focused solely on the booth, beryl eyes eager to verify the postulation now running wild in his head.

Agumon's smile widened into a rictus as he rounded the corner, absorbing one confirmation after another. When he saw the empty plates, when he discerned the blue hands clearing out another of its contents, he knew at once the diner wasn't human.

And that made **all** the difference.

For the past few years, Digimon were heavily marginalized. Their very sentience disregarded. Dehumanized. In this world, in this reality of twisted coexistence, no human—no _owner—_wouldevershare the experience of a delightful meal with one, whether they ate from the same table or the same plate. Much like how normal people would find disgusting the thought of their dogs or cats doing the exact same thing.

Society considered it repulsive. Filthy. Barbaric. A mark of poor hygiene and social ineptitude.

Agumon realized the human accompanying Veemon wasn't merely a "very loving owner". No. Not when the dragon was eating from a plate. Not when this very moment destroyed the barricades installed by society, its taboos violated so thoroughly like curtains being ripped from its installations in a curt snap.

Whoever accompanied the digimon _clearly_ didn't mind becoming an outcast, ostracized by the perverse culture of modern-day Earth for letting egalitarian paradigms pierce the veil of discrimination. Someone who saw the dragon as a real friend.

A person. Not a thing. Not a pet.

Agumon kept running, excited to see the signs. He was sure it was Veemon, and nothing could ever change his mind unless everything he saw contradicted his expectations. And fail them they did not, for he glimpsed the reptilian features. He discerned the leather skin, shimmering in the brightest shade of blue. The three-toed feet. The five fingers and their short, stubby claws.

Even the mannerisms of what body parts he could see twitched and flexed and moved with everything that _spoke_ volumes of its owner, corroborating the Digimon of Courage's suspicions. Agumon felt his heart fluttering, his body almost sweating from the flames raging stronger and stronger within his body. He was so happy, so ecstatic, that he did not stop and ask himself a very, _very_ important question: _"Why wasn't he Chibimon?"_

Agumon's pause button was broken. Untouchable and irreparable, but only for this wonderful moment. And how couldn't it?

Veemon, like Armadimon, Wormmon, and Hawkmon, were the only ones of their kind. Members of species no longer existing in either world for matters beyond anyone's comprehension. Since the Digital Revelation, since the Armagemon incident, since the population explosion of digimon mere weeks following it, Agumon, his partner, and _everyone else_ among the Twelve had never, up until now, saw other digimon just like them.

This wasn't just any Veemon. This was **their** Veemon. Who else could it be?

Another thought brought more euphoria to the orange dinosaur, who looked back at his human half and saw the broadest smile widening on his lips—they had come to the same realization, and all they had to do was confirm it.

If he was looking at their Veemon, then the human sitting next to him, still cloaked by the opaque, wooden booth desperate to keep their prying eyes away from its occupants, was none other than Daisuke Motomiya.

Daisuke Motomiya. The Child of Miracles.

He who'd been considered dead for the past two years.

No wonder Taichi stood still with his feet clinging to the sidewalk the way flesh clung to pillars of metal coursing with electricity—no, he was no longer paralyzed like a rock. The Chosen Child was running, following Agumon's lead, their thoughts in sync: _Daisuke's alive!_

He was thrilled. _They_ were thrilled. For the news was so wonderful it filled the two of them with euphoria, a natural high as overpowering as marijuana. Ecstasy.

With Daisuke back, the Twelve—the Digidestined had another champion in its ranks. A significant boost to their combat ability. Additional power against the omnipresent threat of the Digital Suppression Initiative, ever-dominant, ever-growing.

With Daisuke back, a deep happiness would settle and dwell within the Twelve's hearts. Within Hikari's, most especially. The Chosen Child of Light was certain to welcome this development with wide, open arms, smiling **for once** in a world whose workings stole everything she had from her and degraded her into a damsel in distress with no hero to hold onto as her refuge—her island sunk into a hot, emasculating sea of magma.

With Daisuke back, everything would start looking up again. Perhaps Taichi might even dare putting him in charge of reconnecting the Digidestined with the four Chosen stranded in the Digital World...

More plates sat next to Veemon's, piling up at a rapidly increasing rate—he just saw the human hand set another one on the stack. _Perfect_, he thought. The human's appetite rivaled the dragon's; already he could imagine the two, ignorant of the imminent ostracism, having a contest right now to determine who had the bigger "black hole".

It was an immature contest, yes, but the blue dragon always enjoyed it, and time and time again, the consistent winners of this childish game were as unpredictable as the flip of a coin. Daisuke and Veemon were notorious for it, engaging in the eating contest so often it became a daily tradition in their home, making a complete mess of the dining table every time they had dinner, much to the chagrin of the entire family.

As soon as he stopped by the window, where his view of Veemon and Daisuke were clear, instead of directing his emerald gaze on the two, Agumon craned his neck and peered at the corner, waving his hand as soon as Taichi Yagami appeared. "Over here!" he waved, heedless of the fact he just blew his cover as an enslaved SCAI. "It's _really_ Daisuke and Veemon, Taichi!" The Digimon of Courage pointed to the specific booth with one claw and clamored. "They're right over there. You can—

He just **had** to turn his head.

Agumon went white. His euphoria fading into oblivion the moment he stared at the scene within.

The digimon, indeed, was Veemon. Just as he expected. Just as Taichi deduced, no thanks to his "height advantage".

What pulled Agumon from his reverie and straight into the flowers of reality was Veemon's companion. The person who sat next to him, devouring whatever dish was brought to their table. He watched the man take the last remaining plate available, one Veemon eyed with a famished gaze, as if his stomach was still empty despite the maddening amount of food they ate. This hungry gaze did not escape those unmistakably goldenrod eyes, prompting the man to _share_ the meal on his plate, shoving one half of its contents onto one of Veemon's and taking the rest for himself.

Agumon ogled the strange, silver bracer gleaming on his left forearm. Eyed the white, unsullied staff propped next to the stranger like a flagpole devoid of its pennant, standing tall and defiant. No matter how much he looked at the blond man sitting beside Veemon, he knew this wasn't Daisuke. This wasn't the Child of Miracles. Hell, he didn't even know **who** this stranger was.

But something about the man unnerved Agumon. He couldn't really grasp it—and neither could he assume it (for he knew nothing and was cognizant of this fact)—but for some reason, the blond emanated an exogenous air. Just **looking** at him made him feel like he was staring at something—someone that… that didn't belong.

Someone who shouldn't be here.

Someone whose very image, whose very countenance, sent foreboding chills down his spine.

"Agumon!" Taichi harked, finally catching up. His digital half remained insensate. "What's wrong? Isn't Daisuke in ther—oh."

He, too, saw the blond. "It's… not our Veemon," he sputtered, his disappointment croaking, pouncing on their optimism the way a feral predator hunted its prey and tore it to shreds before swallowing it piecemeal.

Agumon was not paying attention, his glare fixed on the blue dragon. Fixed on the scene. He observed the disturbed grimace on the waitresses' faces while they took away two stacks of plates, _reluctantly_ giving both of them small spoons for dessert: a large, mouth-watering piece of chocolate fudge, ala mode.

He stuck his head to the window and, with his gaze now trained in Taichi's direction, tried to focus on their words.

"_Chocolate?" the dragon mouthed, calling it out with wonder and unbridled enthusiasm. Even if he wasn't looking directly at them, Agumon could tell Veemon was licking his lips, salivating at the sight. "I __**LOVE**__ CHOCOLATE!" _

There was something profoundly disturbing about the two. While the blond continuously emitted an alien presentment, intuition was screaming at Agumon, insisting the Veemon next to him was _their_ friend. The Digimon of Miracles himself. "Our Veemon's the only one of his kind," he countered, not even looking up at his human half.

If that was truly the Chosen, he had no idea why he'd hang out with a complete stranger. No one else but Daisuke was his partner, and that was the truth. Absolute and inescapable. He didn't want to believe it either, but some silent voice in his mind, a deep and forceful hunch capable of drowning his thoughts, kept telling him this _was_ their Veemon, demanding for the dinosaur's faith in his own intuition. In his gut feeling.

And he capitulated. Despite the illogic, Agumon wholeheartedly believed this was their friend. Now if only Taichi could be convinced of this theory, persuaded, at least, to take a chance and accost the two. If he was really Daisuke's Veemon, then perhaps the blond was merely the dragon's friend. A friend who just might be willing enough to help the Digidestined find the Child of Miracles, maybe even fight the DSI.

It didn't seem like they had nothing to lose for something as simple as asking a question…

But Taichi was adamant, his sound and intelligent mind overriding Agumon's intuition. It didn't help the Chosen Child's gut feeling took its owner's side.

"_What the hell, Vee!" Agumon's ears caught the sounds of steel forks striking the plate. High-pitched tings, comparable to crystal striking crystal, echoed throughout the dining area, much to the other diners' ire. They were already perturbed by the warm treatment received by the dragon. _

_Less than a minute had passed before the blond stranger exclaimed in surprise. "Whoa, the last piece __**already**__? I didn't even get a single—just how the hell did—OH NO YOU DON'T, YOU LITTLE—!"_

"You never know, Agumon," Taichi replied. "Maybe he's been reborn as a regular digimon—

"But nobody's never seen another Hawkmon before," the dinosaur rebutted, eyes focusing on his partner. "And he's been gone _much longer _than Veemon. Since Miyako—

"Since the Shinjuku March."

"Yeah."

As close as he was to Taichi, the Digimon of Courage saw his chest rise and fall, accompanying what could only be a defeated sigh. "Still, that Veemon won't know us. I bet his real personality's even different."

"Really," he said, the cadence in his voice devoid of emotion. Taichi would've found it impossible to tell whether Agumon agreed with him or was just being sarcastic. In reality, his interests were focused on confirming the sinking feeling in his gut, the intuitive thoughts coursing through his head like a gunman that wouldn't stop shooting no matter how many times his victims begged.

Agumon continued his watch. "I don't know Taichi. See for yourself."

_The blond had his hand stuck in Veemon's mouth. What happened was easy to deduce: the moment Veemon spotted the chocolate wonder, he attacked it immediately, probably ditching his fork mid-lunge and crammed everything into his muzzle like the voracious monster he was._

_A tough fight ensued, yet the dragon managed to get all but one piece moving down his gullet. The man had, perhaps, discarded his own fork at last and lunged for the last remnants of the dessert an instant before Veemon did. The rest was history._

"_HA!" Agumon heard him huff victoriously. "It's still in my hand!"_

_Veemon did not make a sound, patiently waiting for his friend to release the delectable treat. The blond was trapped in his "territory" and the glint in his eyes was a clear sign he had no intention of returning the man's hand until he finally relinquished the last piece._

"_Let me go."_

_Veemon shook his head. "Mm-nn!" Agumon was amused at the sight._

"_Let, me, __**go**__."_

_Another shake of the muzzle._

"_Fine then," the blond gave in. He did not yield. Rather, he pulled his arm back, his movement gaining in strength. Veemon did his best to contain the hand, yet despite his powerful bite, the man succeeded and his reward was a balled fist dripping in ooze._

_A mischievous grin formed on the dragon's muzzle when he noticed the last piece wasn't unscathed, for rivulets of ropey goop slid from it despite the blond's protective—possessive efforts. "Awwwww," he chuckled, sarcasm betraying the sympathetic drone. "You won't be eating that __**now**__. Well, Chris, you know what to do!" _

_The blond named Chris stared at the dragon. His face was expressionless, and Agumon couldn't tell if he was furious at Veemon, amused, or just apathetic. "Here," Veemon said. "This'll make things easier." The dragon spread his maw open like he would a pair of doors, holding them in place until all expected "guests" were accounted for. "Aaaahhhhhhhhhh…" _

_He waited for Chris to chuck the sodden piece of chocolate "straight into the garbage can", figuratively speaking. _

Agumon was riveted by Veemon's unrivaled passion for chocolate and fixated on his playful, naughty demeanor. These were traits this digimon and _their_ friend had in common. A couple of signs that purposed to corroborate his hypothesis. But the orange dinosaur did not bother pointing these out to Taichi.

After all, the Digimon of Courage knew his partner. Knew him very well. They were brothers, as close to each other as Taichi was to Hikari. If not closer, simply because he accompanied the Chosen Child wherever he went like a second shadow, always around, and always ready—for a fight, or for a tender moment between the two.

"_Dude, you're such a _riot_!" Chris laughed at Veemon, shaking his head in amusement. "Hmm, I say…" Without warning, he slammed the slimy fudge… right into his mouth. He didn't even care. "Request de-_nied_."_

Taichi recoiled, turning his head away, blanching. "That guy's _sick_, Agumon. You'd **never** see me do that, not even with you."

_Veemon grimaced. He shared the Chosen Child's opinion, enunciating his words slowly. "You, just, _DIDN'T_—_

"_Oh yes I did," the blond replied, grinning as if what just transpired was ordinary and nothing more. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the last piece. "Mmmmmm." Savoring it. "It's great! I want some more."_

"_Yuck, you realize that's been all covered in my—_

"_So? A little saliva doesn't hurt anyone."_

"_A LITTLE? That _definitely_wasn't 'a little'!"_

_Chris shrugged. "That's nothing. Trust me when I say there's stuff out there that's worse." He swallowed. "A LOT worse." He raised his hand, waving for their server's attention._

Agumon turned to Taichi, smiling. The little stub he called a tail seemed to wag to and fro. "But Taichi," he appealed. "You already did! Remember that surprise party we threw for you a while back?"

"That party six years ago?" he spoke. "On my 18th birthday?"

"Yeah!" The digimon twittered, smiling. "We **literally** shared a drink. To strengthen our bond! Don't you remember?"

Taichi made a disgusted face, recalling a particular moment he _didn't _want to revisit. Then he bit his lip. "Of course not! I was _drunk_—no thanks to Daisuke and Takeru! I even heard you **helped** them spike my punch. I don't even know _whose_ idea it was." He crossed his arms, ruminating. "Probably Daisuke," he murmured. "That guy always had weird plans cooked up…"

"Well what else _could_ we do?" Agumon looked at him. "You got knocked up really bad after the Shinjuku March. You were so down about what happened with the UN someone **had** to do something! Besides, Daisuke _really_ needed a distraction. After Miyako—

The adult Taichi blushed out of defeat. "Never mind," he yielded with a groan. "I guess it helped." Agumon smiled at his human half before turning his head back at the scene inside.

"…_You're _disgusting_," Veemon said, sticking out his tongue in revulsion. Eyes narrowed and a frown carved on his white muzzle._

"_Get off my case!" the stranger fumed. "I've already been told off several times about my…_'odd habits' _and I __**won't **__tolerate another critic."_

_Veemon's expression did not change a bit. "It's kinda creepy, y'know."_

_He mocked indignation. "Tch! Say what you want, man, but my friends and I _rarely_ have the luxury of __**real food**__. Like hell I'm wasting anything __decent__ I get my hands on."_

_Singsong was the dragon's reply. "Whatever you saaayyyy…"_

It didn't register in his prehistoric head that Taichi had begun walking away until he heard the Chosen Child call his name, standing a short distance off.

"Hey Taichi!" the dinosaur followed him, dogging his every step. "Where you going?"

The Child of Courage glanced at the afternoon sky, and his digital half followed his gaze. Their eyes took in the receding orange, a twilight barrier that gradually yielded to the night. "We need to go. If we miss the six o'clock train, we won't make the last bus to Gotenba."

"Y-you're not going inside?"

"What's the use? It's not our Veemon."

"But—

"Agumon." His cadence had a stern character to it, insisting he stop. "You _know_ what happens when the human partner is killed."

The words were bells, clamoring as soon as Agumon's ears accepted them and comprehended their message. The Digimon of Courage flagged, caught by a truth he pushed aside in his euphoria. A truth no one could ever undo. His jaw parted to murmur. "I know…"

Agumon looked back at the steakhouse. Through the window he saw their waitress serve another order of chocolate. Two plates left her hands this time—that man was smart, circumventing another little fight before it even begun. "Daisuke's been dead for two years." Taichi's voice was no different from a lecturer's. He concluded ex cathedra. "There's no way that's the same digimon."

Although the Chosen's gut smoldered with thoughts of disagreement, the rational part of his mind knew there was no convincing the elder Yagami. His logic was sound and _his_ intuition was no less convinced the Digimon of Miracles was gone forever, just like his surrogate brother. Taichi Yagami had the cards in his hand and the decision was his to make.

"Digimon these days have it hard," Taichi muttered. "_Real_ hard."

To Agumon, even "real hard" was an understatement. He was as observant as his human half and, being a digimon himself, had a more acute notion of the prejudices, of the speciesism underscoring modern society. Though it had only been less than a decade since the government's introduction of anti-digimon policies—not even half one since the Digital Suppression Initiative came to power!—humanity had settled into a culture that debased their digital equals, turning them into mere extensions of themselves.

Instead of celebrating their ability for reason, free digimon were considered a pain. Instead of a friend for life, they were hated and ostracized if not enslaved, stripped of their minds and freedom. Social taboos flourished swiftly, spreading throughout Japan like an epidemic. Digidestined branches in other nations confirmed the presence of this plague across the borders, across the seas separating throngs of humanity from each other.

"That Veemon's lucky," the adult noted. "That guy's just gross, but at least his heart's in the right place. Owners like that are really rare."

"Maybe it's because he's not an owner."

"You trying to say they're partners?" Taichi asked, preempting whatever reply Agumon had in store with a weary sigh. "These days, people **own** digimon. We've been looking at a programmed personality all this time. You saw the triband on his arm, didn't you?"

"I did, but it didn't feel fake—

"It _is_ fake," Yagami asserted. "That triband was the real thing. It didn't even look like it's been tampered with."

The Digimon of Courage's answer was silence, garnishing it with one, acknowledging nod.

Then they walked away, leaving behind the mailbox, the Mons' Mart, and the steakhouse they just passed. Agumon never looked back again, not even once. Although his sentiments differed from Taichi's, he trusted his partner's judgment on this one. Save for very few instances in the past, for events that occurred so long ago they were buried in the recesses of history, the Chosen Child had always kept a level head in all situations. He was known for restraining his emotions when persuasive logic, irresistible intuition, and quick thinking were called upon.

There must have been something he missed. A risk concealed from Agumon in mud yet as clear as glass to his partner's astute vision. Perhaps something could've happened had they approached the two. Something that could've jeopardized the mission later. The fact Taichi Yagami was rarely wrong didn't help matters.

_Maybe he's right_, Agumon yielded. _Maybe it was all just a trick._ He felt the pain of defeat creeping up on him, but was quick to seize and trample it until it was no more than a fleeting memory. Even if Daisuke was no longer in this world, he figured, at least a digimon of the same species as his partner lived a great life, one denied to many others.

Agumon ambled beside his partner, not knowing when Taichi retrieved the leash chained to the triband on his arm. His thoughts focused on the mission awaiting them tonight, dropping the matter that was Chris and Veemon.

Neither human nor dinosaur knew they were departing a crossroads. A critical point of history. By choosing to leave, by resuming their walk to Shibuya Station and the trip to Mt. Fuji, Taichi and Agumon relinquished a future. A happier future that spared Christopher Van Numen immense turmoil, Veemon confounding misery, and Ken Ichijouji regret and anger.

It was a future that would never come to pass.

A decision that oiled the gears of tragedy.

A choice auguring a cataclysm unlike any other.

One they would never come to regret, for he and Taichi were unaware of the dangers, of the precarious edge their worlds teetered over.

What was a pity wasn't the fact they left, but the high likelihood they would've laughed off the idea the blond they saw in that steakhouse, treating a digimon more like a close friend than a pet, was at the center of it all…

"Taichi," Agumon asked, not knowing he too had started the Chosen Children's descent to hell. "Will you really push through with _Pyramid_?"

The 24-year-old did not scold him, for the orange dinosaur spoke when the opportunity arose rather than blabbing in the middle of a crowd and inadvertently blowing their cover.

"Agumon," Taichi addressed him as soon as the crowd around them thinned. "Digimon are commodities now." His emerald orbs saw the Chosen Child clench his fists. "Merchandise. _Slaves_. People who… people who like things the way they used to be are ostracized. Maligned." He gazed at the DSI skyscraper standing tall against the backdrop of the orange sky. "The world **must** be changed, and the only way's to attack the source."

Agumon never liked the idea of direct assault. This was different from any of Taichi's plans back in the past. Too different. Back then, it was good against evil, autonomous (and villainous) digimon against their own brethren, guided by humanity. Now, it was one group of humans against another, each struggling for what they believed was right.

A moral gray zone.

There was no good. There was no evil.

This was war. A struggle for equality. A struggle for acknowledgement.

Taichi's _Operation: Pyramid_ required the coordination and the teamwork of several people. Agumon was certain the stakes were high enough to result in deaths, and from that alone originated plenty of discomfort. "Will the others," he asked, "approve of your plan?"

He had been talking about the core group, but he might as well have referred to the Twelve, for that was exactly Taichi did when he scoffed at his partner's question. "Others?" he chuckled darkly. "_What_ others?"

The Child of Courage led him to an alley and swiveled, brown eyes drilling down from above. "The Twelve's been split, Agumon." He began counting with his fingers. "The DSI had driven Ken, Iori, Koushirou, and Joe to the Digital World _and_ blocked them off from us with the DDS. Sora and Mimi are AWOL in America, and the rest are dead."

He scowled. "Miyako, Yamato, Takeru, and Daisuke. They're all _dead_. All victims of politics and hate crimes. The government has done **nothing** to bring them justice! We don't even know who offed Daisuke two years ago. Not even the ones responsible for what happened **THE YEAR BEFORE**!"

Taichi gnashed his teeth, letting his anger cool down. Agumon, however, had no need for verbal cues and gestures to figure out his human half was so angry, he wouldn't hesitate to avenge his friends. To avenge his best friend, most of all.

An anger, a fury, that could never be quashed. Immune to the passage of time.

"It's only Hikari and me now…"

The orange dinosaur opened his mouth to speak, but Taichi cut him off before he could aspirate. "I know what I'm doing is wrong! You told me already, countless times! But I have to do it, Agumon. I **must. **It's… it's the _only_ way to protect her."

He bowed his head, ashamed to discuss it, even in private. "I-if, if… someone's got to dirty their name, it's, it's gotta be me. No one else. You heard what I said to Junas and I stand by it, no matter what."

"But Taichi, what if she finds out?"

The frown on his countenance morphed into a hesitant grimace, but it took only a moment for it to change into a straight face. An expression free of emotion and brimming with confidence.

He stated his rebuttal with the full conviction of a man ready to die for a noble cause, a man who would willingly submerge himself in a canister full of feces and maggots if it was necessary, opinions and thoughts damned and banished to oblivion.

"She won't."

* * *

Christopher watched the waitress walk away from their table, carrying a wad of ¥10,000 bills and an expression on her face containing astonishment at Christopher's generous treatment of the blue dragon next to him, the fact his "wallet" carried enough cash to give an iPhone's breadth a run for its money, and not to mention a small tip for not bothering their dining experience after that little run-in with the first two steaks.

"Aaaaahhhhh," Veemon celebrated, licking his chops in pure happiness. He pat his belly twice as he leaned back in his seat and relished the comfort. "That was **soooooooo** goooood!" The Digimon of Miracles burped.

Christopher poked the white . "You must be stuffed."

"Totally. I think we just ate the whole menu!"

His comment elicited some laughter. "Glad you like it, Veemon." The man stroked his companion's head before reclining as well. "And honestly, I'm surprised it hasn't changed a bit."

The Chosen did not reply, not that he needed to

"I never expected this steakhouse to be _exactly_ like before, you know. I'm in a different country—a different _Earth,_ at that, and all the odds were just _against_ it—

The dragon's childish voice interrupted his prattle. "Hey Christopher?"

"What?"

"Do you have digimon?" Veemon looked at him, holding what was definitely curiosity in his eyes. "_Your_ world, I mean. Does it have digimon too?"

"No."

"Oh."

"But besides that, everything's—everything else seems...the same…"

And it was true. Everything else in this universe _was_ the same. The cityscape was cramped, yet somehow organized. Its architecture was modern, characteristic of buildings constructed in the 21st century, yet many of them were juxtaposed to old structures, different in design but as functional as the new.

Even the technology employed was the same—notwithstanding all the innovation driven by the Digital World and its "monsters", people on this Earth carried the same models as the phones back home. Wore the same clothes back home. Drove the same cars. They were even accustomed to the capitalist culture pervading most societies in the modern era.

To Christopher Van Numen, this universe was almost, he dared to think…

"Just like home."

His thoughts enshrouded reality from him, as memories of the past resurfaced. He remembered his mundane hopes back then, preferring graduation and a fulfilling career to deny—to forget a past so ridiculous no one would believe him anyway. He remembered his dreams of visiting Japan, walking around Tokyo with Joshua, their other buddy from school, and all three of their girlfriends—_Damn_, Chris swore. He couldn't even remember their names anymore!

How he wanted to see the _Sakura_ trees. Go up the Tokyo Tower. See the Rainbow Bridge. Taste a chocolate cornet. And…

Everything was a reminder of what once was.

Christopher was silent. His eyes closed. He blocked out the digimon he saw carried or dragged around by their owners. He pretended the monsters he saw in the steakhouse weren't there. The extremely tall skyscraper in the middle of the city, absent. He imagined someone else sitting next to him at that very moment, someone who wasn't Veemon, someone who _wasn't even_ Sally, but a young, attractive lady whose name and face eluded his memory.

Emotions long lost—familiar, yet foreign feelings—swelled in his chest, gushing out in a forlorn sigh.

"Are you okay?"

Goldenrod eyes snapped open. They found the blue dragon staring right back at him, whose concern and worry were ostensible. Unwavering. Christopher felt liquid cascading down his cheeks. He realized what they were as soon as he wiped them off.

Tears.

"I'm, fine." He sniffled as he said so, no doubt eliciting a disbelieving glare from his only other companion. "Really. Don't worry about me. What about you, Vee? Are **you** okay?"

"Sure am!" He chirped. "That pep talk you gave me cheered me up." The dragon smiled at him. Happiness swung his tail from one side to the other and glistened brightly in his red eyes. "Hey," he said after a pause. "It's your first time here, right? In Japan?"

Chris nodded. "Why do you ask? Got something on your mind?"

"Well… I was thinking, how about I show you around?"

The blond inhaled sharply, caught off-guard by the dragon's proposal. "W, WHAT did you say?"

Veemon rose, standing on the booth so their eyes were level. The Digimon of Miracles stared at Christopher, the intensity of his gaze so strong the man was wondering what brought this up. "I'm _saying_ I want to take you on a tour! In Tokyo!"

Chris was so stupefied he couldn't even speak.

"_Obviously_ this isn't gonna be the same. You wanted an outing with peeps you're really close to and, maybe you're thinking, I don't count. But you know what, Chris? I FEEL THE SAME WAY! I'd rather **BE** with Daisuke! Oh, what I'd give to see the city and hang out with him **right now**.

The dragon grinned. "But like you said, we got to work with what we have, right?" He stepped closer. "I know we're not partners, but _at least we're friends_." Christopher's arm received a light punch. "Good friends!" Veemon burst, accentuating the words with a rise in cadence. "And to me, that really, **really** counts."

His listener shook his head, unable to process the words coming out of Veemon's snout, rolling off his tongue without diffidence, without hesitation. "I don't—I can't believe you're even suggesting this! Wh—

"Why?" The blue dragon beat him to the question. "Why am I doing this?" He tittered as though it was the most asinine question in the entire world. "Because you were _there_ for me, Christopher! Because you gave me _your_ support when you didn't need to!

"You could've pushed me away when I came running, covered in blood. After that Mons' Mart thing, you could've left me alone, ignored me. But you **didn't** do any of those! You went out of your way to get me out of my rut." Veemon narrated, "You listened to me, cleaned me up, and carried—no, you didn't just carry me," he corrected. "You _hugged_ me tight and **not once** did you let go. You held onto me even _after_ I felt better." He gestured the stacks of plates on the table. "Plus, I got you to thank for all this!"

"V-Veemon…"

"Take it from me: a plain 'friend' won't do those things! And you know, it doesn't just sit right with me if I just _keep_ taking. I gotta give you something too. So when you talked about Japan and that old dream of touring it, I thought, 'Hey, maybe that's something **I** can give!'"

"_Veemon_," he spoke, applying a stern voice that did not fail to sap Veemon's enthusiasm away. "Do you even realize what you're saying?" One palm met his shaking head. "Do you?"

"Huh?"

"Don't tell me you forgot your partner!" Christopher chastised. "That Daisuke guy's **always** been your number one priority," fired the reminder, "and now you're thinking of _procrastinating _him? If he's **THAT** important to you, you shouldn't delay." Huffing scathingly, "And with an effing tour of all things! What the hell, Vee…"

The look on Veemon's face showed nothing but guilt before a righteous anger replaced it. "Well, look outside!" He pointed out the window, thrusting his finger at the cobalt sky. No longer did it possess the spreading hue of dusk. In its stead was the gentle glow of twilight, rapidly overtaking the natural canopy.

The Chosen eyed a clock on the wall. "The last bus leaves at six, and it's already 5:15! Even if we leave for Shibuya Station now, it's **still **rush hour! We won't make it!" A frustrated moan. "Yargh, I want to see my partner again, but what else _can_ we do?"

Christopher's response was awkward laughter. "Sorry. Can't exactly help it if the food was _sooooo_ good—

However pathetic his excuse was, the dragon's retort cut him off. "I'm not blaming you for anything, Chris." He shrugged. "I LOVED the food as much as you did." Backtracking, "Wait. Make that _almost_ as much." The Chosen started chuckling. "I'm not the weirdo who ate _the_ last piece."

Veemon licked his lips slowly in allusion to the spectacle minutes earlier. Rather than shame or embarrassment, the man's answer was laughter; he found it as amusing as Veemon did. Funny how everything seemed so hilarious in hindsight.

"If we can't get there in time, then what's the point? Let's just kill some time and walk around Tokyo." He folded his arms, muzzle sporting a smug grin. "I know _plenty_ of places we could visit." The Digimon of Miracles waited for his listener's response, handing the ball over to his court the moment he finished. "It's your call."

The lilt in his voice indicated nonchalance for whatever Chris decided. They maintained the eye contact, staring at each other as though they were a pair of Poker players in a high-stakes game, with everything but their lives on the line. Christopher scrutinized the blue dragon, peering into his scarlet pools.

As he studied him, as he analyzed the posture of his reptilian body, the thick, swaying tail, and the grin on his snout, Christopher was beginning to realize he _wanted_ the tour. His indifference was a feint, a poker face inherited from years of living with this Daisuke Motomiya he loved so much.

But why? Chris asked himself. Why would Veemon want this?

Was it _really_ because of reciprocation? Because he wanted to repay the support and concern he gave the dragon?

Or was there something else involved?

Christopher Van Numen was certain his digimon friend had places of personal significance in mind. Veemon was no different from those war veterans and successful retirees relishing the memories of the past. This tour was his opportunity to enjoy the fleeting joys of nostalgia as much as it was the blond's chance to live a hope he abandoned years back.

People in Veemon's position sought an avenue, a channel to which they could direct their stories, narrate the perils of yesteryear and the elation that followed. Veemon missed Daisuke so much he probably wanted to talk to Chris _about _him, sucking out every bit of happiness from his cherished memories in what might be a rebellion, a refusal to accept reality for what it was.

But even the grandest of delusions must, one day, reconcile with the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

They were silent for the next minute, staring at each other, neither folding their cards. Christopher hesitated to yield; he was worried for Veemon. His mind was entertaining the hypothesis this dragon standing right in front of him was turning him into an anchor. A temporary replacement for his missing partner. Daisuke's stand-in!

Was Veemon aware of this? Was he conscious of the _mounting_ probability he was looking at him as another Daisuke?

_Perhaps._

Chris retracted the thought. _Perhaps_ _not_. Veemon had been alone for three years, with virtually no human interaction except for his fellow Chosen (who had their own partners to attend to) and his adversaries (who sought his deletion and nothing else).

Isolated from his beloved partner and unable to fully integrate with increasingly misanthropic monsters, the Chosen was, or so Chris speculated, so lonely he didn't care anymore, latching onto the first person to treat him as a real friend.

If there was any evidence of this, _circumstantial evidence_ they may be—for he doubted the dragon would actually admit this to himself!—it would be the fact Veemon didn't seem to consider alternative routes to Mt. Fuji. They could've taken a taxi, or maybe a regional train. Hell, Christopher could actually **RUN **the whole way and they'd be there in about four hours. Maybe even less.

The man himself had already opened his mouth and was in the process of informing the blue dragon about this when he stopped. Christopher simply stopped, letting the temptation sink in, absorbing what it entailed. What it would bring.

A few hours of something _nice_ wouldn't hurt, would it? They could afford the time. It wasn't as if they were dropping everything on the table altogether. It was just going to be a break, nothing more.

One would fulfill a dream thought lost to the recesses of regrets and what-ifs. Another would revisit the past, leeching out their uplifting emotions like a hungry vampire feeding on an anemic victim.

Respite awaited one, offering a well-deserved break from all the turmoil and all the suffering borne by one who led a nomadic life fraught with danger and hard decisions. Diversion awaited the other, a comforting oasis from the culture shock and discrimination that lay dormant within.

Chris wanted to rebuff, to reject Veemon's proposal. Finding the third Realmstone Fragment was as important to him as the dragon aspired for a reunion with in the blond's case, the stakes were higher. Far higher than the digimon standing beside him could ever imagine.

The longer he delayed, the longer he lingered in this universe, the more pronounced was his role in affairs that were none of his business. His presence was enough to lead everything towards destruction. Hurl chaos at the two worlds.

Countless planes of reality had already fallen in his wake. Indeed, Chris' journey necessitated hard, absolutely heartbreaking decisions. Decisions that infringed on God's territory. Decisions no man should ever preside.

The gold medallion swinging beneath his neck was a keepsake as it was one of the five keys to Christopher's salvation. A memento of a tale the blond would much rather forget. A baggage that haunted him wherever he went.

His fingers rubbed it tenderly, drawing strength from the rationalizations behind its acquisition as he readied himself to decline Veemon's offer. And when he opened his mouth to refuse…

Christopher succumbed.

"Alright, Vee. A tour it is."

Veemon's smile brightened, breaking into a rictus. "Sweet! You're gonna love it, I swear! Tokyo's a very, _very_ big cityand there's sooooo many places you can go…"

* * *

The Digimon of Miracles was in a far, far happier mood when he left the steakhouse with Christopher Van Numen in tow.

He hadn't only eaten, for the first time in his life, food from a different cuisine—enough to actually give his belly a slight bulge—but he had also a renewed vigor for the path ahead. A rekindled hope for the future.

Whether he knew it or not, Christopher's sermon on wrenching control from destiny, on taking the helm of life, and steering it to a desired teleological end had inspired Veemon, lifting him out of misery. To the dragon, the blond's lecture never radiated pity. They were words of power, backed not by sympathy, not by philosophy, but by raw _experience_.

The rigid clasp Chris had over his muzzle and the eye contact maintained throughout only served to emphasize the blunt, straightforward manner his advice was dispensed. No doubt the lasting impression on the Chosen was so strong, so intense, the sight of murmuring employees and diners was unable to faze him, despite pairs of eyes zoomed in on both him and the human that turned himself into an outcast without hesitation.

Muted undertones were discerned with audible clarity. Yet as those hushed whispers entered his conical ears, the dragon's spirits were so high he was not deterred, even if he _was _the object of their scorn.

"I can't believe I just saw that."

If these telltales had any effect on Veemon, perhaps it was the stronger drive to fight for _that_ happy future. Perhaps it was a replay of his companion's homily, to banish the insecurity crawling out of its tomb like a zombie.

"Me neither!"

"Good thing he stopped. I was about to run to the toilets and hurl."

Or perhaps there was no reaction at all. No reaction but consideration.

After all, Christopher Van Numen was the _real _subject of their chatter.

"Ugggh, yeah. I know some people like sharing food with their pets but that was just—

"Buddha, don't remind me! That was SO effing… _yarr_, gives me the creeps thinking about it."

Scarlet eyes witnessed a couple of waitresses by the corner, babbling on as they sent wary, revolted glances their way.

"Awww!" Veemon saw something that barely passed for a disappointed pout. "And he's **so** handsome!"

"Trust me, Miho. A man with hygiene like that? You won't want _that _slob. Mark my words."

The blue dragon brought his gaze to the person in question. Chris' face held no emotion as the two of them ambled out the steakhouse. He seemed oblivious to the disparaging murmurs, but Veemon knew better. The blond's hearing was as good as the Chosen's and there was no doubt in his mind he had heard every word.

"Huh. Treating that thing like it's human. What a dumbass."

"Yeah, brother. SCAI are just a bunch'a dumb animals. No way they're like us."

Why Christopher took it all in stride eluded him. Lingered beyond his reach. Had Daisuke Motomiya been in his place, had the Child of Miracles been derided by such gossip, Veemon would have been led to the nearest secluded spot. As soon as the two of them were alone, Daisuke would surely grab him by the shoulders and shake the blue dragon to death while grumbling about "losing his rep with the ladies".

Why wasn't the man reacting similarly?

Why wasn't the man reacting **at all**?

Veemon grabbed Chris' wrist the second they were in the streets, free from the comfy, ventilated air-conditiioning and swarmed by the cool, autumn breeze. He tugged the hand, instantly attracting that goldenrod stare. "You know," he verbalized, "ten years ago Daisuke used to make me act like a doll so I wouldn't attract too much attention."

He didn't even need to look to discernthe thoughts circulating his mind. "So you want me to—

"Put a leash on me," Veemon interrupted mid-speech. "I'll pretend to be like those digimon pets so the other humans don't—

His rejection was vehement. "I won't allow it."

"B-but, but—

"You _know_ I heard them too. Whenever they look at you and your kind, all they see are pets and stupid, mindless beasts. I'm not surprised they think I'm a f*cking **freak** just for treating you the way I do!

"And guess what, Vee, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!" On articulation, the blond seized the blue dragon by the arm and made him stand. "Those idiots _don't know_ what they're missing! They don't know what an **awesome** friend you are, and I'm happy to have you AS one! So far as I'm concerned, they can gossip and blather all they want but there's no way I'm letting you shame yourself just because of other people."

It was a solid argument.

Though it failed to answer his question, it was nonetheless another burden off his back. Since Chris _apparently _didn't mind being cast out by his own species, Veemon dropped the issue. "Okay, okay. I got it."

He added, "And thanks."

"Don't mention it." Then the man shoved his foot into his side, nudging the dragon gently. "So what're we waiting for? We on a tour or not? Where're we heading first?"

"TO THE BEER MUSEUM!"

"Beer museum?" Scratching his head, "Errr, is there really one here? If I recall correctly…" He looked daze, staring up into the twilight sky like a first-time tourist out of the hotel without a game plan. "The only beer museum's in Hokkaido."

What Christopher Van Numen just said was proof enough of his incredulous background, but Veemon took no note of this and, instead, corrected him as soon as the last word had been verbalized. "There's a smaller one in Ebisu!" He smirked. "Daisuke used to take me there a **lot**."

His expression seemed uneasy. "Didn't expect to hear you and your partner going on dates."

"What?" The Chosen was nonplussed. Confused by the reply until something like a switch was flipped in his head and he scrambled to correct Chris' thinking (and protect Daisuke's reputation. The last thing he wanted was the man meeting him for the first time with something like _that_ in mind!), "No-no-no! He needed an excuse so he could see this girl he had a really, really, _reeaaalllly_ big crush on!

"'Sides, I found the place sorta interesting." He knew this was a half-lie. In his second Baby form, Veemon had such a horrendous attention span he wasn't likely to remember anything _remotely interesting_.

"Right," came the dismissive response. "So how do we get there?"

"It's one stop from Shibuya Station."

Christopher was slightly amused, chuckling a few times. "Might as well go before it closes…"

"Wait a sec!"

Veemon pounced on the blond before he could even take one step forward. It took only a second for the blue dragon to find a comfortable position on his back, and another for him to slam both feet into the pockets of Chris' vest as though they were stirrups dangling from a saddle.

"Goddammit, can't you just _walk_?"

"Eeeeehhhhhh, I don't wanna!" Veemon plopped his head on the man's shoulder. "And I **like** the headrest."

He groaned. "Then stow your feet somewhere else! You're making my hands smell."

So _that's_ why the vest pockets felt tighter than earlier.

Veemon laughed it off in singsong. "Noooot my problem!"

The blond puffed with shallow, meaningless ire. Silence reigned between them until the Chosen, wondering why the pockets still felt cramped, wiggled his toes. "Hey, if you don't want your hands to smell, why AREN'T you taking them out, hmmm?"

"Uuuuuhhhhhhhhhh… well, that's becaaauuuuussseee…"

Veemon didn't give him a chance to whip up a reason. Christopher's expression was so hilarious the dragon burst into laughter, right in his face.

Indeed, anyone else who accompanied them would've howled in amusement. The face Chris wore was no different from someone who'd been caught in the act, like a kid being seen stealing from a cookie jar just as the hand was being withdrawn, clutching a cookie, taking great care and stealth.

The blue dragon found it so amusing he felt obliged to say something. "Look at you! It's as if you're doing it _on purpose_."

He shouldn't have said that.

"Mmff…"

Veeemon bit his lip to stifle his giggles, an attempt that obviously ended in failure. "H, hey," he stammered in-between. "Wha—what're you—ffssshh!—doing?"

"Starting a new habit. I don't want you falling off… **or** running into trouble again."

Rolling his eyes, "You and your 'odd habits'. As long as they don't do anything to me, we're good. I'm a little ticklish somewhere there and—

Veemon doubled up, guffawing and squirming. "G-g-get your nasty fingers out! It's—

Hysterics erupted, gushing out his muzzle, overwhelming the snickers coming from the source of Veemon's _discomfort_.

"Eh?" Chris feigned deafness. "What'd you say to me earlier? What, was, it?" He smirked. "Oh YES!" He imitated the Chosen's singsong dismissal. "Noooot _my_ problem!"

Veemon narrowed his eyes. "Tickle me again and you're gonna get it."

"You don't scare me, you **cute**, little _dwaaaagon_." The blond playfully nuzzled the white cheek for good measure.

"Keep it up and you'll get a headbutt."

What happened next was confusing. For no reason at all, Christopher laughed. Out of the blue. He laughed and chuckled and cackled like a fool, yet the source of his entertainment, the origins of his amusement, were inscrutable.

Why was he so relaxed? Why was Chris chortling like _he_ was the one having his feet tickled?

While it was merely speculation at this point in time, the digimon's instincts had an answer for his odd behavior. It had something to do with this tour. There was something funny about the whole thing, something only the man Veemon rode like a horse discerned.

Did it have something to do with the fact he's now living a lost dream? Was it an allusion to some past event he had no knowledge of yet? Was it a distraction—a deliberate effort to shift his attention away for something else?

The answer could have also been the simplest of all: Chris thought his threat was funny.

Laughter was, truly, a contagious thing. Soon enough, the Chosen joined him in his mirth, even though he had no idea what they were laughing about. Veemon retained enough lucidity to spout a warning. "I mean it!" He had every intention to follow up on it.

Unfortunately for Christopher, Veemon did this exactly ten seconds later.

"OW!"

* * *

Several hours had passed since the intersection of Veemon's and Taichi's paths.

As the Chosen Child of Courage and the Digimon of Miracles went on their separate ways without speaking to each other, night-time set in. One remained at the Tokyo Metropolis, unwittingly manipulated by both his and his blond companion's nostalgia. The other returned home to Mt. Fuji, but only for unfinished business.

Hikari Yagami, now wearing a Capri and a simple blouse, sat worriedly in her brother's room, waiting for him. His persistent absence was making her anxious. Hikari knew she didn't have to worry, but Taichi's "official business" had been taking up most of his time and for the past two weeks, putting him in Tokyo.

Tokyo! Tokyo, of all places! Was Taichi aware how exposed he was? One man could only do so much to blend in the crowd and evade the scrutinizing sight of the DSI Peacekeepers. Granted, the elder Yagami had his hair trimmed years ago, kept it that way, forced Agumon into wearing a leash and a deactivated triband suppressor, _and _took on a fake name that to this day Hikari couldn't believe still worked—after all, the fact no one in Tokyo figured out "Taichi Yagami" and "Tai Kamiya" were one and the same was as ridiculous and as stupid as nobody realizing Clark Kent was Superman wearing glasses.

She had no idea if this whole thing even started two weeks ago. Perhaps Taichi had been planning this for months on end. Perhaps his recent absence was a result of increasing haste, of a yearning to accelerate his plans and execute it before some window of opportunity closed on him.

Either way, she hated how Taichi's caring eyes hid them from her. Was sheltering her really the solution? Was helping her maintain the façade of innocence something for him to lean on like a crutch?

Hikari loved her brother, and so did he. But that never meant she wouldn't want to learn the things the Child of Courage had been doing behind her back.

As a child, the Child of Light had always felt threatened by Taichi's legacy, by his position as **the** leader of the Chosen Children _and_ the Digidestined. Armed with battle-hardened intuition and expert combat skills, the man had become a formidable figure. One Hikari now depended on to bail her out.

It was a dependency borne from the fact she was three years younger than him. From the fact Hikari did not apparently inherit his talent for leadership and flair for combat.

The cruel world of reality never gave the poor girl the opportunity to outgrow it. As she matured in her adolescent years, indeed Hikari Yagami fought to disassociate herself from her own brother. She did things on her own; she contributed to their fight against human supremacy and the growing tension between humankind and digimon in her own, little way, making accomplishments she could call her own.

Takeru's and Daisuke's support drove her to pursue this goal.

Yet her dependency on Taichi Yagami _rose_ as the Heavens plunged her into the depths of Hell. In the ten years that had passed after the Digital Revelation, Hikari lost the love of her life. Fate was heartless, not only stealing her best friend but also separated her from her loving family.

Only Taichi and Tailmon were left. They were the ones who held her heart now, cradled it within their grasp like it was the most fragile thing in the world. Hikari Yagami was not a damsel in distress. She was a broken doll, a fragment of who she was, clinging to the last vestiges of a life that was no longer hers to call.

But Tailmon's presence was not as reassuring as Taichi's. If he, too, disappeared, whether abducted from the middle of the street or slain by bigots, then… she would finally be alone.

Alone.

All the responsibilities that would fall on Hikari's lap would overwhelm her. If only the friends stranded in the Digital World were there. If only Daisuke there. If only _Takeru_ was there!

But Hikari knew there was no point in belittling her older brother's problems.

Taichi had lost people important to him. He lost his best friend. He lost his parents. It was Taichi who made the hard choices, who saw them _fall apart_ as the Digital Suppression Initiative seized control of both worlds. It was Taichi who shouldered the lives of _thousands_ who simply want to stand by what's right.

It was Taichi who lived with the growing reality his younger sister, the only shining candle in his life, was slowly being driven insane by the whims of fate.

Who was worse off was as clear as day.

There on Taichi's bed did Hikari await her older brother's return. She had gone out to watch for him, patrolling his favorite entrances, coquelicot eyes peeled for any signs of him. Of course, the Child of Light did not stray far from the underground stronghold lest someone glimpse her. In the meantime, she finally disclosed her ominous dreams to Tailmon, her digimon partner.

Disclosed the nightmares in excruciating detail. _Specifically_, the three scenes that had been haunting her for the past few nights.

Like her human half, Tailmon could barely scratch at the veil of mystery enshroudingthe two most prominent scenes. She was unable to pin an identity on the blond stranger cradling a catatonic Veemon. Neither could the white cat manage to recognize the man in the suit, let alone identify the digimon he fought (obviously a species none of the Chosen had ever encountered).

Like her human half before her, the Digimon of Light met with the same stumbling blocks and failed to surpass them. If there were any benefits Hikari received from revealing everything to her loyal, digital half, they would've been the ease of mind granted to someone blessed with the chance to talk things over and another voice confirming what she had always thought.

When it came to the third dream, that last scene that plagued the darkness behind her closed, orange pools, Tailmon came to the same conclusion, like her human half before her.

Whatever Taichi was planning, whatever schemes he slaved away on, they were doomed to failure. Destined for disaster. Nothing else was said, for only speculation surrounded the monsters borne from wisps of darkness as it did Veemon and the two blonds.

The white cat elected to watch over Taichi's favored entry and exit points as soon as the sun settled itself beneath the horizon. She intended to confront the Child of Courage in Hikari's stead and, hopefully, stop him from pursuing a plan that was short of madness.

Hikari Yagami relished Taichi's king-sized bed, her back propped up by a massive pile of pillows. She could tell, from the lack of sleeping equipment on the floor, that Taichi slept with Agumon beside him. Like her and her digital half. Like everyone else in the stronghold and the depressed, pro-digimon communities scattered throughout the country.

In the meantime, she tugged at the shirt wrapped around her neck, clutching hard. Her eyes were closed, letting her slip into a state of nostalgic reminiscing, where she envisioned herself sleeping in a warm bed with Takeru Takaishi, embracing his toned body and kissing the Child of Hope's soft, moist lips. She did everything to keep herself slightly awake, slightly in control of the images entertained by her mind, lest she risk the nightmares overwhelming her once more…

So concentrated was the younger Yagami she had lost track of both time and the world beyond her eyes. Only when the sound of a creaking door tore through her controlled dreams, interrupted a cherished memory shared with Takeru, Daisuke, some girl he'd been seeing, and all their digimon in what was essentially a double date (triple if Patamon and Tailmon were counted) did Hikari Yagami sit up with a frightening snap.

"Taichi!" she yelped, only to moan a second later, seeing a white cat awfully large for its species walking in. "Awwww…"

"I'm sorry," she apologized. Her voice was light and soft, truly fitting a cat. "Taichi hasn't returned yet. Nobody's seen him."

Tailmon bounced to Hikari's side, climbing on the bed. She placed her paw on the lady's hand. "You should sleep," she proposed. "You're stressing yourself too much for this."

"It's okay, Tailmon," the Chosen Child of Light reassured. She hugged the feline digimon. "I can endure this a little longer."

The white cat reciprocated, purring. Nuzzling Hikari's cheeks. Her blue-and-white striped tail brushed the girl lovingly. "You sure?"

Hikari nodded. "Positive."

Tailmon pushed herself away in a gentle manner. She leaped down the bed. "I'm going to the lodge," she said. "Hikari," Tailmon added, "don't push yourself, okay? If you need to sleep then do it.

"I'm your digimon partner." She opened the door. "Leave the work to me."

As soon as the white cat left the room, Hikari Yagami muttered under breath. "But I'm your _human_ partner. I can't let you do everything either…"

* * *

The subterranean stronghold hidden underneath the shadow of Mt. Fuji had plenty of entrances scattered around the mountainside. Many were found deep in caves, hollowed out by the combined efforts of digimon and man and concealed by both wildlife and hazardous terrain.

Of these, two were known only to the core group. To the Chosen Children and their closest friends and relatives.

One was located at the lodge, the place where it all began, where seven young children, of varying backgrounds were sucked into a parrelel world filled with mystical creatures who, by nature, should never exist in the first place.

The lodge was almost as valuable to them as their digital halves. The sentimental value was so high, even the five who had never been to the lodge fell in love with it the weekend after BelialVamdemon's permanent deletion, when Taichi and Yamato organized a party only for the Twelve.

The other was a tunnel leading away from Mt. Fuji, a cramped, narrow, almost treacherous cavern falling and rising underneath the white-tipped volcano. It led to a small hole a kilometer from Fujinomiya.

Taichi Yagami eluded the entrances he was known for using. He already suspected his younger sister and her feline partner were eyeing the portals, aware of his suspicious activities and sought the details behind _Operation: Pyramid_ and, perhaps, predisposed to its cessation.

With the lodge in his sights, Taichi Yagami climbed higher, far higher, looking for a particular set of trees as soon as the lodge was but a speck in the distance. A treacherous-looking hole many a sensible climber would avoid, _especially_ at night, lay hidden in their midst, one Taichi and Agumon went for the moment they recognized the wildlife concealing it.

They knew they already passed around three entrances now, and they knew this was one that required permission from within to enter. But that was the good part—no one would've ever thought the Child of Courage would enter his own stronghold from one of its most inaccessible entrances.

The hole was a gaping circle of darkness, its jaws open and ready to swallow any unwary traveler in this forest. It sat there, waiting for its prey, never expecting two of its quarry approached it with the intent of being gobbled up by the darkness.

Taichi stood at the rim of the open hole, glaring into the shadows with eyes adjusted to the bluish shades of the night. Eyes whose night-vision failed to pierce the opacity. Agumon's beryl sight was of little help to the digimon and his human half.

Yet that did not matter.

Taichi was aggressive, climbing down despite the dangers. He knew it was a thirty foot drop to the bottom. One misstep would easily lead to a fractured leg, or perhaps something worse. One slip-up was equivalent to ending _Operation: Pyramid_ and delaying it for months.

He didn't care. He didn't even mind.

For the Child of Courage knew this path by heart. He found the footholds he was looking for with ease, limbs moving with a muscle memory that never failed and never disappointed.

A minute was all it took for Taichi and his digimon partner to reach the bottom, where they crouched into a narrow cavern and slinked through, eventually forced by the unyielding earth to their knees, crawling like writhing tapeworms in a horribly long intestine.

Fifteen more minutes brought the two to a dead end.

Or so it seemed.

Taichi rapped on it, pounding on it as if his life depended on it. (Of course, it didn't. He just wanted someone to hear him.)

Ten more minutes passed before someone finally opened the panel, but to Taichi, to Agumon, it felt like forever.

The two crawled out as though they were being defecated by the wall. "And I thought we'd be stuck in there all night!" Taichi joked, patting his clothes until the dust accumulating on them were gone. His brown eyes focused on the man who let them in, on Miyako Inoue's older brother, who sat on a large boulder to the side, simply watching them.

"Welcome back, Taichi."

Taichi Yagami high-fived the elder Inoue. "Hey, Manta! Any news?"

"Only one," he reported. "Hikari's been _looking_ for you. She's even had Tailmon waiting outside the lodge."

"Really!"

"Yup. Your little sister's determined to talk to you —she's waiting in your room **as we speak**."

"So much for a power nap," Taichi mumbled. "Not to worry; I've also got my gear in the armory. Are the Inoues coming later?"

Mantarou shook his head. "We prefer staying here," he answered. "You don't seem to be aware of it, but the family's helping you maintain order in this godforsaken place." He chuckled. "It's the least we could do. The Inoues never abandon their friends."

"Miyako would've been happy," applauded Agumon.

"Agree," joined the Inoue. He turned to Taichi. "Whatever happens, we'll take care of your dear sister. Count on it."

"Heh," laughed Taichi. "Why do you think I have you guarding this door in the first place?" He patted the man's back. "I trust you guys, y'know." He started towards a path leading deeper into the stronghold "Later."

"Later… and good luck!"

* * *

Contrary to Mantarou's opinion, the female Yagami had long departed from Taichi's room. The Child of Courage was taking too long and, unfortunately, the longer she lingered in his bed, the more exhausted her body became.

Yet, as much as Hikari wanted to shut her coquelicot eyes and wake up hours later, hopefully to find her brother standing over her with a perplexed expression, her spirit could not rest. Discomfort bugged her every thought, egging her to perform the ritual she had long been doing ever since…

The smell of smoke registered in her brain, accompanied by the sounds of raging explosions and the unquenching thirst of flames seeking nothing but destruction. Hikari Yagami recalled tongues of fire as orange as her eyes, clinging to the flammable structures that would've been—

Takeru.

She couldn't have forgotten Takeru.

The Child of Light clutched the shirt on her neck. It was always in her possession, always within reach. It just had to be.

For it was Takeru Takaishi's shirt. Specifically, the one he always wore in the day, during their adventures ten years ago, whenever the Twelve's second generation ventured into the Digital World, led by the late Daisuke Motomiya.

The shirt was Hikari's most precious treasure. Her last memento of the man that was the love of her life. Almost nothing could match the sheer sentimentality the younger Yagami had placed on an article of clothing anyone else would've thought worthless.

Nothing, save for the golden bracelet fastened to her wrist. She eyed the engraving in its inner side. _"I'm always here,"_ it said, as though it could convey the warmth and love the human touch provided.

It was her 18th birthday present, a gift from Daisuke Motomiya, given to her a year before he, too, vanished from her life. From everyone's lives.

It wasn't something meant to captivate Hikari's heart. It wasn't an attempt to exploit Takeru's permanent absence. No! Rather, it was a physical symbol of support. Daisuke Motomiya had long outgrown his petty rivalry with Takeru in the years that had passed since the Digital Revelation, when he realized his childish advances were leading him nowhere.

These accessories were the world to Hikari. If she ever lost these… only then could she claim Taichi Yagami as the sole divider between herself and insanity.

Although the stronghold was a network of tunnels carved out from the earth by a combination of human efforts and digimon with an aptitude for subterranean living (like a Drimogemon), the memorial chambers were heavily modernized by the Digidestined out of respect for the Twelve's fallen.

Despite the fact the cavern was the deepest in the tunnel network comprising the subterranean fortress, it was more like an atrium than an actual cave. It seemed large enough to house a small estate home, and the floor was free of gravel, pebbles, and small stones. From the atrium spread multiple tunnels, with all but five of them closed off. One was the passage that brought her here, straight from the immense pocket of space that was the core group's living quarters.

The other four led to smaller rooms, each dedicated to the Twelve's fallen. Hikari's coquelicot gaze ogled the closed-off passages with an expression that held only fear; she always prayed the expansions would never realize.

On arrival, Hikari eyed the four paths that stood before her patiently. But she knew exactly where to go, walking directly into the second from the left.

Going through the maple door, she saw an altar with Takeru's face on the very center, lit by candles placed by Hikari herself. She always kept them aflame as much as possible. She knelt before the altar and stared hard at the blond's handsome face. Hikari caught a smaller photograph on the altar, with Takeru and herself locked in a tight embrace as they posed for the shot. Daisuke took that photo several years ago. Closer scrutiny would reveal one of Veemon's ears intruding the edge of the framed photograph.

Hikari began to speak, first talking about her day, unleashing a torrent of worries on the lifeless altar. She never broke eye contact from Takeru's face, talking to the photo as if the Chosen Child of Hope knelt before her in spirit. Ultimately she wished, "How I wish you're still here with me…"

Then she heard a door slam nearby.

It came from the memorial next door, to the right. _Daisuke's chamber._

Hikari rose. People rarely visited the memorial chambers. Few have even set foot in the main atrium outside. They preferred to stay within the shallower confines of the stronghold. Besides, it was late. Who would be visiting Daisuke at this hour?

Curiosity compelled the Child of Light to investigate. Exiting Takeru's chamber, she tiptoed to the door and opened it slightly, peeking inside.

Hikari gasped.

Inside the small room were Agumon and Taichi Yagami, her older brother. What made her gasp was not the fact he elected to go here on arrival. It wasn't the fact he managed to get in here without alerting Tailmon or herself (on her way to the memorial chambers Hikari passed several people who would know whether Taichi had arrived or not). Rather, it was the fact Taichi was wearing **the same exact clothes** she'd been seeing in her dreams.

Taichi donned a pair of dark, military-style fatigues. His sky blue shirt reminded Hikari of the first time she set foot in the Digital World. It was adorned with stars. Wrapped around his neck was a long, flowing cape of the deepest, chocolate brown. Hikari was one of the few who knew it was laced with red chrome digizoid, the strongest metal in the Digital World. "It's been a while since I wore this," Hikari heard him utter. She opened the door a liiiitle more, and found the elder Yagami holding the goggles he had given Daisuke ten years ago.

She watched the Child of Courage lift it and slam it down his head, pushing it down until it rested on his neck, in front of his hooded cape. Now that she got the chance to examine it, Hikari figured it was more like a _cloak_ than a cape.

Hikari's body moved of its own accord when she saw the AK-47 leaning on the wall. She opened the door fully, causing it to creak softly. Taichi didn't hear it, but Agumon did. The orange dinosaur looked back and blanched upon seeing her. "Uhhhh, Taichi," he mumbled, pulling on the Chosen Child's cape. "Look behind you."

"Huh?" Taichi gyrated and barely restrained a horrified gasp when he saw the Child of Light right in front of him. "S-shit! I, is that you, H-h-hikari?"

Hikari Yagami remained in complete silence, flabbergasted. The image of Taichi under attack by some monster kept flashing in her head. _No. _This dream was slowly coming true before her eyes. She covered her mouth, astonished beyond reckoning. "No."

"Buddha, no!"

.

.

.

_The world has changed._

_It has become a society of exploitation and human supremacy. _

_Indeed, humanity coexists with digimon, but is this truly the ideal the Chosen Children fought for? Dedicated their lives to?_

_Everything the Twelve had known in the past are gone, obfuscated by history and the censorship of government. The Chosen have all split, with only Taichi and Hikari left to fend for themselves, with many lives resting on their shoulders._

_Hikari's dreams presage a dark future ahead, foreshadowing a catastrophe unlike any other._

_Will the Child of Light persuade her brother to abort the mission? Will Operation: Pyramid truly end in tragedy, as she foreseen?_

_And just what is Christopher's role in all this, if he is too busy indulging his own selfishness to even participate in this operation? _

_Can this future even be stopped? _

_Can destiny truly be changed? Or is it as constant and perpetual as the Gods?_

* * *

**Author's notes:**

[4] If you're curious on how Digimon have truly become a commodity in the human world, feel free to ask, since it's not likely to come out in the story's narrative. I'll post my notes too once I get the time.

[5] By the way, has anyone noticed the references to V-Tamer, Savers, and Tamers in here? XP

[6] EDITS have been made to this entry on June 10, 2010 since some of the text needed corrections. I may have missed some though.

[7] Truncated responses to reviews:

_Lord Pata_: Yup, it took them about three chapters for them to appear. I've also taken the liberty of designating Hikari as "Character B" on _The Interloper_'s link in the archives. I don't think I need to explain the altar thing because Taichi summed it up after seeing Christopher and Veemon bond in the steakhouse: Miyako, Yamato, Takeru, and Daisuke are dead; Sora and Mimi are missing; Ken, Iori, Joe, and Koushirou are stranded in the Digital World. Take note that Sora's and Mimi's roles in the story take place beyond _The Interloper_, and any sequel isn't happening until I complete this damn story.

Anyway, the altars in the memorial chambers were set up precisely for who the Digidestined believe are dead. Still, that doesn't mean they aren't alive. For example, Daisuke's obviously still alive somewhere, otherwise Veemon wouldn't be searching for him in the Real World with Christopher as a temporary companion. I'm not answering questions regarding the other "dead". It involves huge twists I intend on pulling out when the readers least expect it.

_Roxas_: To explain how digimon became common in the Real World, pay close attention to Zero Two's last episode and the audio dramas TOEI has produced to date. Also consider the timeline, as the population explosion took place sometime after Armagemon's invasion of Tokyo.

My take on this, hence, supposes that Diablomon's (Armagemon's) realization completely severed the frittered barriers separating the Digital from Real. The lone Destiny Stone saved by the Zero Two Chosen Children ensured continued sustenance of the barriers, but Armagemon's inscrutable assault inflicted a permanent, irreparable rent on the barrier, which allowed countless digimon to permeate into the Real World, realizing to people almost on a random basis, whether they are as young as a toddler or as old as a jaded and aged professional. These people would be blessed with Generation Zero digivices (the likes utilized by the first generation of "The Twelve"), allowing evolution to the Adult (Champion) stage, whereas the Chosen Children possess other means to break this limit (e.g. Digimentals, DNA Evolution, or in the case of the Twelve as adults, the experience and mental/psychological fortitude granted only by their experience.)

As for Christopher and the "other universe" thing, the only thing one has to understand is he originated from a different "Real World", as Veemon had put it in the previous chapter. If anyone were to read my profile, Christopher Van Numen has his own story, his own "prophecy". The bottom line is, he is a Chosen in his own right, but not in the same sense as Taichi, Daisuke, or any other Chosen Child in the Digimon universe.

Regardless, I did not reveal a lot about Chris. Only four things were shown in this chapter: (1) he originated from a world similar to the "Real World" as Veemon knows it, (2) he used to be an ordinary human, (3) he once enjoyed a mundane life (to the point he had a dream of visiting Japan), and (4) his Scanner has proved quite versatile as far as utility functions are concerned.

There is nothing concerning his past, his identity, his abilities, and moreover, the key information on the Realmstone and the "fate" he is struggling so desperately to change. _The Interloper_ is not his story and never will be, and he is merely a player in the storyline rather than a driver. He does not hog the spotlight more than anyone else.

[8]** 13 March 2012 EDIT:** I have taken the liberty of fixing Chapter 10 in addition to the previous one. It has come to my attention that this chapter and its precedent are the two weakest in the 22 chapters I have published as of EDIT date, as measured by the depth of its descriptions and the ability to invoke emotions in the reader. Essentially, CH9 and CH10 were "tell" chapters rather than "show" chapters, and I intend to correct that.

Why I chose to delve into these chapters was due to their content. If _Partners by Circumstance_ was an important turning point in the storyline (cementing Chris's reasons to stay, Veemon's motives for teaming up with him, introducing the primary antagonist, and moving the setting from the Digital World to the Real), the significance of _Culture Shock_ comes from Taichi's and Hikari's first appearance, and, more importantly, the presentation of the Real World—of how everything has changed after digimon were fully integrated into human society, in the way we see it in real life.

Chapter Ten is meant to connect readers to a perspective that people can identify with, an individual returning home to familiarity only to be stunned and dumbfounded by the changes that have occurred. The realities of human exploitation and ruthless capitalism as presented in _Culture Shock _are not only intended to catch the readers off-guard and appall them in the same way Veemon did but also to shatter the idyllic dream of the animé's epilogue and bring everything closer to home, closer to real life.

I keep on repeating, in my profile, in some of my published chapters, and in the chapters that are to come, that _The Interloper_ is a deconstruction. A realistic take on the epilogue. (I will withhold the same words for its sequel, as it is still under heavy planning.) Realism is a theme I operate with and take very seriously. I understand some readers enjoy fanfiction as an escape, but there is no reason for anyone to preclude realism—opting for it makes it far easier to identify with, even if the events taking place, even if the very premise of the story, are fantastical and impossible in nature.

Future chapters—story arcs—will emphasize the heartless nature of humanity _as a whole_, reflecting both my rather cynical beliefs and my observations in life, witnessed or promulgated. The story will eventually return to the speciesism rampant in this chapter.


	11. Pyramid

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

1. Approximately 20,000 words long. Half of it came straight from the Operation: Pyramid portion of the chapter. It was amazing how long it turned out despite the fact the story outline made it look very short (From Phase I up until Taichi's POV right before entering Phase III). Worse, I couldn't find any point in the second half to cut and turn into the first half or so of the next chapter because of the planned material. I tried cutting down some paragraphs or descriptions, reworking every sentence as I reread through the entire chapter... only to find out that it deducted the total words by what, less than 100? Damn is right.

2. It took me a while to update because I was analyzing a Philippine public mining company (and now a university catering to B&C markets since that miner didn't have much value). That, plus my Mandarin studies, and the fact I had trouble making a decision on one of the characters here in this chapter. You will see why later on.

3. As usual, comments and reviews are highly encouraged, **especially if you have criticisms on character portrayal, writing quality, and the dialogue development**. At any rate, I present to you _Chapter 11: Pyramid_. Hope you enjoy it! ^_^

Two musical pieces you may want to listen to during the fighting portion: _Blaze Edge _(FF13) or _The Landing _(FF8). I prefer the latter. Search and buffer on YouTube.

* * *

This was unexpected.

Mantarou told him Hikari stayed in her room. Who would've thought he'd run into her right when he was about to leave? Taichi cursed under his breath. He **knew **it was prudent to leave the underground stronghold as soon as the gear was ready. Still, it just didn't feel right without donning the goggles passed onto Daisuke ten years ago.

They were left here on Daisuke's memorial, as a reminder of how the Child of Miracles imbibed the very qualities that made Taichi great. With the Child of Miracles now gone and dead, what use did it serve other than a symbol of courage, of leadership? Taichi didn't need one—he **had** the cape. Nonetheless, the goggles held great sentimental and symbolic value. It completed Taichi. It added some ephemeral form of significance to whoever was worthy to wear it.

Bringing the trademark headgear into the field was a clear message the Chosen Children were back in action, forever going against the flow, the null hypothesis of the times.

"Taichi," muttered the Child of Light, the only obstacle he faced. "Don't, don't go out there." Hikari shot a passing glance at the AK-47 leaning on the wall. It was a brown assault rifle. Easy to manufacture, easy to maintain, and easy to purchase. Economies of scale produced a manageable discount, and an impressive amount of savings for that matter. As for where the money had come from, there were clandestine sympathizers of the Digidestined movement who, from the safety of society, made regular contributions to the group for their operations and subsistence. One contributor, who chose to remain anonymous, even sent the Digidestined a big sniper rifle meant for a monster's use.

The AK-47 was a terrorist's weapon. Hikari looked at her elder brother as if he was becoming one. "P, p, p-pl-please."

"I have to," Taichi said without faltering. "This has to stop."

"I don't want to hide anymore," he confessed. "I'm sick and tired of staying here. I don't want to go out there with Agumon **ON A LEASH**!" Taichi maintained eye contact with her, never breaking it. "And I, I, a-and I, I can't stand seeing everyone suffer. Seeing **you** suffer."

Taichi picked up the terrorist's rifle. "T-taichi, what're you—?"

"What I should've done a long time ago." He stood before Hikari, determined. "It'll be better this way."

"For everyone." He watched his own sister shake her head slowly, as if she was witnessing a nightmare unfolding before her hazel eyes. "For you."

She blinked, barely gasping. "You," she whimpered. "You can't."

"This is for you!" Yagami rebutted. His eyes bore holes into her sweet eyes. The next four words were emphasized. "THIS. IS. FOR. YOU!" The Child of Courage gestured her. "Look at yourself, Hikari! You're wasting your life in this mountain!" He pointed upwards. "You should be out there, enjoying the world! As an independent adult! Striving to be the teacher you've always wanted to be!

"And where are you now?" Taichi hissed. "Here." He grabbed the turquoise and yellow shirt wrapped around her neck and unraveled it, pulling it back until it dangled from his hands. "Moping." Hikari reached out for it like it was the most precious thing she had. "Crying over someone **WHO DIED THREE YEARS AGO**!" Hikari watched her elder brother clench his fist, wrinkling the priceless long-sleeves, wincing.

Then she spoke. Slowly. Inquisitively. "You think going back will help me?"

Uttering that took courage—or anger. And plenty of it. "YOU'RE SO STUPID!" Hikari Yagami snatched the shirt back from Taichi. "What if you die, too? You ever thought about that, Taichi?" Her eyes became watery. She hugged the shirt tightly, seeking alleviating warmth in complete, utter futility. "My boyfriend's gone. My best friend's gone. I can't even run to my parents, and now **you're** heading out there?" She shivered. "I can't, I c-c-can't," Hikari stammered. "C-c, c, c, can't stand… being alone."

Taichi found it harder and harder to leave the stronghold. This was why he never told her. This was why he hoped Hikari would never find out. He gulped his emotions down. This was do or die! He couldn't back out now, not after all this time. Taichi couldn't bring himself to succumb to emotions.

The Child of Courage was a leader. There were times when leaders are faced with hard choices. Decisions were made on resolute logic. On undying courage. On fervent faith in oneself. This argument right now was such a time. "I'll come back," the elder Yagami assuaged. "I promise." Those two words were lies—Taichi knew _Pyramid_ did not guarantee safety. Not for him. Not for his operatives. Despite this he had to say it. It was the only way to get Hikari off his back. Besides, the decision had been made long ago. One could say this argument was expected _months before_.

.

A few tears streamed down Hikari's face. "You, you won't." She muttered. "You won't come back."

It left Taichi bewildered. "What…?"

"It will fail, Taichi. Whatever you're planning."

"You have no idea—"

The Child of Light interrupted him, exclaiming the loudest she can. "**IT WILL FAIL!**" her voice echoed several times in the memorial chamber, reverberating. Daisuke's memorial even trembled at the sound. Taichi looked at her and found his younger sister struggling to restrain her emotions, retaining composure despite severe emotional stress.

_If Tailmon ever saw me putting Hikari through this she'd kill me, even if I __**was **__her partner's older brother._

* * *

Of the nightmares disturbing her tranquil sleep, all the nasty and terrible things she had seen there, three scenes were prominent. The first depicted Taichi in the very clothes and armaments on his person this family, running in the street, mouth wide open in the presence of absolute shock and horror, summoned by the horrible death of a family being cleaved in half by a digimon she had never seen before. The second presented another man in combat, someone who seemed to carry the air of familiarity around him. (Had she seen him before?) Opposite him was not a fearsome and enigmatic beast, but a creature that was clearly a digimon, and a Child level at that. Not to mention overconfident and arrogant. Eager. How the last was directly related to the Chosen Children was a dilemma she was unable to solve for the moment. It was unforgettable, a dejected portrait of sadness, of desperation and self-loathing.

Finding her brother standing in front of her like this was like watching the nightmares slowly realize before her very eyes. Failure, disaster, and death would result from Taichi's plans, and what destiny withheld from them now couldn't be any more foreboding.

Taichi was appalled. Upset. He choked, repeating the last word to himself in a muted whisper. "Just what do you know, Hikari? Just what do you know!"

The Child of Light couldn't say her anticipation of failure came from a dream she could barely interpret, even with Tailmon's help. Taichi, didn't really believe in dreams. He was a pragmatist. Destiny was one thing; visions of the future were a different matter. The Child of Courage was a man of intuition. Taichi Yagami's acute reaction to Hikari's ejaculation clearly reflected his gut feeling. "I've been planning this for MONTHS! I got everything covered!"

He counted with his hands. "The strategy, the operatives, and the gear! The timing couldn't be better! DSI's focusing on the Digital World with all it has; we'll be hitting them at their weakest! By dawn tomorrow, all DSI operations **nationwide** will be shut down. By the Digidestined!"

Months, he said. How long had he been keeping this from her? Why would he do this? Was he so ashamed of the plan he couldn't reveal it to her, not until maybe months, if not years after the fact? Or was he being protective, hoping blissful ignorance saved his sister from the dangers, physical and otherwise?

It was impossible not to discern the confidence radiating from his eyes. How many were participating? How many were important in the Digidestined? How many would die tonight, defying the Digital Suppression Initiative to the bitter end? Did Taichi gather enough people for the job? Even at its weakest, she was certain the DSI maintained formidable security, trained internally and, at times, in collaboration with the government's Special Assault Teams and the Self Defense Forces.

Of course the question of long-run relevance still hung over their heads.

"Don't you think the DSI would recoup at a _different_ branch?" struggled Hikari. "They'll just send their men here to reclaim Japan, then all your sacrifices will—"

"Shutting down DSI in Japan will inspire more sympathizers. More Digidestined!"

"It won't, Taichi. This is terrorism!"

"That's not a problem anymore," shrugged Taichi. "We've already been branded terrorists!"

A new voice rose from the Child of Courage's side, interjecting. It was Agumon. "Besides, Hikari, don't they call it 'activism'?"

"Stay out of this, Agumon," seethed Hikari. She glared at her older brother, holding her arms wide attempting to stop him. "Taichi, I don't care what the world calls us. Just don't stoop to that level, please! I'm begging you!"

"I don't like it either," Taichi shook his head. "But drastic times call for drastic measures."

"B-but, b-b-b-b-but," Hikari stuttered. "There just has to be—"

"THERE **ISN'T**!" yelled Taichi, silencing his sister. "The truth is, the diplomatic approach never worked. They're the same. The United Nations, ASEAN, Rotary International, AIESEC, NGO's, corporations, industry associations, nonprofits... _our own government._" Disillusion twisted his lips down. "They're **all** the same! Nobody trusts digimon after 7/4! Nobody cares about them. To everyone but _us_ they're beasts, animals, tools." He hissed. "**Lower than human**.

"This has to happen." He strolled towards the exit. "Those talking heads might just listen to me if we pull this off."

She beat him to the only path out, holding her arms out wide to bar his path. "Don't give up yet! We can't give up. Let's just call this off and find people who can—"

The Child of Courage interrupted her. "Convince"—he didn't bother hiding the sarcasm—"**BILLIONS OF** **IRRATIONAL, FEAR-DRIVEN PEOPLE** that liberated digimon can be friends?" He glanced at Agumon. "Brothers? Or _more_?" His eyes darted back to Hikari. The emotions held in both were the same, yet the only difference was his belied a ferocity in contrast to her charm. "Be practical, Hikari. We're not innocent kids anymore."

"B-but," she stammered. The Child of Light was finding it harder to rebut. "I can't, Taichi. I can't let you go."

"Sorry." Taichi stepped towards her, his eyes unyielding. "I **must**."

The younger Yagami was rooted to the spot. "Then…"

She said the unthinkable. "Let me go with you!" Accompanying the Child of Courage to his own doom was the only thing on her mid. She didn't want her older brother to leave her alone. He's the only one she's got left, and for him she will hold on as tightly as she could.

Taichi was agape, hearing those five words. "NEVER!" He reacted, as if her request could be compared to the confession of murder or some other heinous crime, moral or physical. "I will **never **allow that!" Taichi clasped her slender arms, shaking violently. It was the very first time he did that to her. "_Pyramid_ will disgrace all its operatives. That's why I never announced this. That's why I won't let everyone join us."

Taichi's face was so close to Hikari's she could hear and feel his palpitating breaths. "I won't let you fall with us. With me! I'm your brother, Hikari. Your _older_ brother! I will do **everything **to—"

SLAP!

Hikari Yagami delivered the strongest slap she could muster. Both of them were in tears now. Agumon, a spectator, even had watery eyes watching the Yagami siblings fight. Hikari told Taichi he never understood the feelings she has invested in this moment, that she was afraid of losing him, and moreover, that he was mistaken in resorting to acts of desperation, activist or terrorist, whichever it was called.

Bouts of silence ensued. Brother and sister gazed into each other's eyes. It'd be easy for one to misconstrue this as an incestuous moment. Anyone who watched the scene could feel the heavy tensions adding weight to the atmosphere. Agumon shuffled his feet, wanting to dash out as soon as possible. Hikari and Taichi locked their eyes on each other.

Taichi thought it a necessary catalyst to subdue change in their favor, despite the stain it would bring. The risk of death and the certainty of falling from grace were the reasons why he would never permit Hikari to accompany him.

Hikari considered this act of activism as 'terrorism' and, worse, had seen what could possibly be the ending of this rather desperate operation. Taichi's imminent death and the fact she risked being left alone with all the important people in her life out of reach drove her to keep Taichi by her side.

Others may wonder: wasn't Tailmon an important figure, too? Still, she would rebut, Tailmon would always stay by her side. She was Hikari's digimon partner, her loyal and trusted friend. That cat would never abandon her. Yet her unwavering support was too insufficient to douse the prospects of having nobody else to turn to. She clutched Takeru's shirt so tightly it creased even more. _If he leaves me here, I'll follow him_, thought Hikari. _No matter what he says. _The Child of Light was a 21 year-old adult now; she could do whatever she wanted.

Ultimately, neither Hikari nor Taichi backed down.

"You'll be killing people, Taichi," she whimpered. The poor girl was crying. "PEOPLE. You're not fighting evil digimon…"

"I'm prepared."

"What about the… your—"

"Same goes for my operatives, Hikari. Even the kids participating."

It shocked Hikari to hear this. "K-k, k-k-k-KIDS?"

"They're desperate," Taichi shrugged.

"T-then," Hikari gulped. "I can go. I can go, with…"

"You don't give up easy, do you?" mused the Child of Courage. "I already told you, you're not falling with me." Taichi Yagami took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

.

"I'm really, **really** sorry, Hikari."

Pain suddenly overwhelmed her, her belly being its epicenter. Hikari fell, enfeebled by the blow. Taichi, her own brother—her own flesh and blood!—struck her solar plexus using a fist imbued with strength reserved only for enemies. Her fluttering eyes glanced up at her brother, whose face was marred with grief. The very thought of punching the person he loved so much invoked flowing tears. "You can kill me when I come back tomorrow."

.

Agumon trotted to Taichi's side. His voice sounded distant. Faraway. _"You didn't have to do that, Taichi."_

"_We're running late, Agumon. I had no choice."_

As the darkness escalated and shrouded her view, Hikari felt Taichi give her a sweet kiss on the cheek. The Child of Light reached out in an attempt to wrap her arm around her brother's cloak. Instead she felt his—Daisuke's—goggles. "Tai… chi…" She could no longer lift her arm. It dropped to the floor. "Don't…"

Everything went black.

* * *

Veemon's idea to show Christopher around Tokyo couldn't have come at a better time. The autumn season was rolling in, and Ken had given Chris so much money at some point all the blue dragon did was speculate how he came up with that amount in the first place. Chris carried Veemon on his back through most of the tour, though in the few times he didn't the blond ensured they were in constant contact, if not in extremely close proximity. He'd grown protective of him since the Chosen's excruciatingly detailed narrative of the Salamon incident and the undignified treatment he received in the steakhouse. Like hell was he going to let it happen to him again, not while he was still around.

The digimon didn't mind all the attention. He seemed to relish it, actually, as though he couldn't get enough of it. They frequented the popular landmarks, even those obscure to foreigners but known only to the locals. Veemon's wellspring of familiarity manifested itself most clearly then. He relayed to Chris everything he knew, from their history to their cultural significance. Who knew the Chosen was a little bit of a traveling geek? Then again, he was technically an alien in the Real World. Developing an interest in the world he lived in wasn't something worth being bowled over.

They ran into a couple of English-speaking Asians at one point. Thanks to the translator in the Realm Scanner, Veemon had no problems communicating with them. His replies, his awareness of his country, left them dumbstruck. It solicited comments that put him on par with those digimon with the white spirals, but with far more personality and friendliness. They owned no digimon, but after listening to Veemon and seeing the interactions between him and Christopher, they became quite open to having one capable of speech.

"Maybe they'll want the real thing eventually," the Chosen said to him after they parted ways. Wishful thinking at best, but it wouldn't do to kill his naivety now. Not when he was feeling quite happy.

Upon dusk, Christopher walked across the famous Rainbow Bridge. On Veemon's request, they headed for Odaiba. It was a treasure trove of memories for him, and it was something he must've been gunning for when he proposed this tour to him in that restaurant. There was sentimental value in the Tokyo Metropolis; but it was at its greatest in Odaiba. He hasn't been home in three years and, Chris was certain, the nostalgia bug was biting Veemon hard.

There was no problem with this anyway. This tour was a much-needed break for the blond as much as it was the fulfillment of a lost dream. That Veemon knew his way around and liked him enough to ask for a short visit to places he held dear accentuated the value of this tour. How couldn't it, when the places being visited invoked someone else's precious memories?

The first stop they made in Odaiba was an ice cream parlor once frequented by the Chosen Children when they were transitioning into the hormone-driven life called high school… plus puberty. Veemon was thrilled to discover the parlor's continued existence. He urged Chris to stop for a light snack. That is, if you could call _several_ scoops of mint and caramel chocolate light. Veemon delightfully went through his treat, conversing with Christopher in a booth. He really _was_ going through everything. The blue dragon covered Daisuke's high school life, his struggle to get people to accept the digital monsters' prevalence and internalize a better opinion of them. He told stories of Daisuke's persistence with Hikari Yagami, despite being popular—_really _popular—among the other female students.

The Chosen could remember a few determined girls approaching_ him_ just to use him as a bridge to his partner. "I always wondered why they thought making progress with ME meant getting close to Daisuke." He couldn't hold back a snicker. "But I kept quiet. You won't believe how much food they bought." Veemon was all smiles. "Aaaaaallllllll for me, hihi!"

Daisuke's (and the Twelve's) elementary school was the next stop. It was three to four blocks away from the public high school almost all of them studied in. Of course, the gate was closed. But that didn't stop Chris from just leaping over it. Veemon pointed out a spot on the gym's roof where the Twelve's partners always hung out whenever they were having classes, during and after their Digimon Adventure. Upon closer inspection Chris spied a cleverly-designed awning that must've been used as shade from sun and rain.

The two stayed outside. Entry meant breaking in, and leaving traces of their presence. Chris would have none of it. Veemon understood. As they left the school, the blue dragon pointed out where the computer lab was, a key location that served as temporary HQ for the Chosen Children back when their enemies were simply evil that had to be stopped, unlike now when they were humans operating on fear, paranoia, and a superiority complex.

Their last stop, after visiting so much more and exhausting a sizable portion of the reclaimed island, was the Palette Town amusement park, by Chris's "suggestion" (insistence). He was letting that adolescent dream of his take over again. He was falling into the trap of complacency, yielding to the temptation to procrastinate. He wanted to ride that Ferris wheel, the _Daikanransha_. Veemon couldn't believe he actually knew its local name, but he was quick to accept. If anything, all it did was confirm the man didn't feed him a grand lie when he implied he had once been a normal, powerless human as ordinary as those walking around them.

"'A dream to visit Japan'," the dragon said. "I've been repeating it to myself for a while already and I **still **can't get over how someone like **you **actually wants this." Because Christopher had superhuman abilities and futuristic technology. Because he was from another universe. Because he lived a life regular people only fantasized about, perhaps wrote, drew, or created _something_ to embody these impossible desires.

Chris never addressed comments like these. Always he changed the subject, and always whenever he tries to bring up the past. Christopher knew this left a lasting mark on the blue dragon, but he had to respect the fact he wasn't ready to discuss these things with him. In fact, he hadn't been ready to disclose anything about himself when he first met Ivan and Sally... they just stuck around because circumstances forced them to and Chris' yearning for relationships was an irresistible temptation.

As they got on the Ferris Wheel (garnering curious looks from the other people in line), Veemon was reminded of the day before Daisuke left him in the Digital World. It was a great day, spent in places that were immensely valued by both the Child and Digimon of Miracles. It was funny how this afternoon and evening could be _paralleled_ with that day. It went without saying that Daisuke's intention, then, was to give Veemon the best time of his life before going their separate ways. Now… it was simply to kill free time, and have fun, before returning to the seriousness at hand.

When their passenger car approached the apex of the circle, Veemon gazed out into the night sky hovering above the Tokyo Metropolis, feeling the wind caress him. He was not afraid of the height; he had something to stand on this time. The Digimon of Miracles took in the breathtaking play of light and darkness, their juxtaposition a marvelous sight.

Somewhere in this beautiful city was Daisuke Motomiya. "I'll find you, Daisuke," Veemon softly swore. "No matter how long it takes."

Christopher said nothing, but all he did was sit still and stare out into the Tokyoite skyline. Some odd sort of contentment glazed his eyes, but that didn't stop Veemon from breaking away from him and leaning over the side. It still felt like a dream sometimes, being here.

"You were right Veemon."

The passenger car stopped close to the apex almost as soon as he spoke. "You were right."

Veemon tilted his head. "Huh?" he rasped. "About what?"

"I've long forgotten what it's like to live a life like this." Christopher Van Numen smiled. It was genuine, and it expressed every single emotion he must have been feeling during this Tokyo tour. Happiness, contentment, and... there was also a deep-seated melancholy in there somewhere. A regret he would live with forever, whether or not the blame fell on his shoulders. "I had an awesome time. Thanks, Vee." A small item materialized in his left hand, coalescing into existence thanks to the technology of the Realm Scanner. Feigning composure was difficult, since Veemon kept forgetting Chris hailed from a different universe. A different Real World devoid of digimon.

The dragon sidled closer, inspecting the item. "A camera?" A digital camera. Canon. It looked new, barely used, but the model number spoke otherwise. By industry standards this device was **ancient. **Smartphones dominated the modern age, as did smaller, sleeker, and much more powerful digital cameras. ""What's this for?"

Another grin. As authentic as the first. "So I won't forget." He set the camera down on the center pedestal, pushing a button so it started giving off an intermittent, orange light. "Come here, Veemon," Chris beckoned. The two friends made V Signs for the first shot. It was Veemon's idea, but if he had any inkling of where Christopher was truly from, it wouldn't have made a difference anyway.

* * *

Tailmon's golden tail ring glistened in the moonlight. Her sharp cat ears were perked, ready to detect any suspicious activities. She curled up in a ball motionless, looking down on a rather small lodge from a tree. It provided a good vantage point; not to mention her perch was actually quite comfortable.

This was the very lodge the first generation of the Twelve stayed in before their first dive into the Digital World… sans Hikari and Tailmon.

No nostalgia befell Tailmon as she watched over this place. Her mind was dead set on two things: Taichi's plan, and Hikari's dreams. The Digimon of Light found Taichi's secrecy unsettling. She'd been overhearing people talk about Taichi going around Tokyo for awhile now. The Child of Courage was planning something, and he had no intentions of telling his younger sister anything.

_Probably something stupid, I bet_.

Once she accosted Agumon over breakfast. **Early** breakfast. It was fruitless. Agumon had a tight lip, and would never betray his own partner, even if he _was_ talking to an Adult-level digimon **and** the partner of his human half's sister. Following the Chosen of Courage was the most logical option, but that was a bad idea. Tailmon had to be there for Hikari constantly; lately, her presence was insufficient. Hikari's grief over Takeru and Daisuke and the rather desperate circumstances compounded into severe emotional trauma. The cat just **had** to be there for her!

This comfortable feeling of closeness was mutually shared between the two. It goes without saying that Tailmon terribly missed Patamon out of all the Chosen digimon she has ever worked with. Human standards would've put them together as a couple. And why not? That cute, winged hamster was just adorable. He was sensitive, mature, and friendly. They had a history of working together and that alone paved the way for a pretty good relationship. Thinking about it made her miss Veemon, too. The blue dragon was the very reason why she and Patamon were together in the first place—after all, just who was abrasive enough to push the Digimon of Hope into sucking up the courage to confess?

His support for the hamster surprised even his own partner. Daisuke never expected Veemon to _not_ like Tailmon back. But she sort of detected it early on. Veemon was tactless and childish; whatever maturity he had was offset by his coarse playfulness. That digimon was never interested in a relationship. He was, to quote the dragon, content with what he had, and wanted nothing more.

Tailmon was the first to accept they had passed away, never to return. She had to step up, and be the shoulder for Hikari to lean on. Taichi was too busy worrying about the future, worrying about the stronghold of the Digidestined. Hikari had been hit far worse than Tailmon ever had, and now she needed her more than ever.

But now… things have changed. Taichi was planning something big, and it's obviously something Hikari wouldn't like. Was it something that risked the Child of Courage's own life? Would he push through with it, knowing how much pain he'd inflict on Hikari just by dying? Or was the man overconfident in his tactical finesse?

Even worse were those dreams Hikari's been having for the past three days. While she could say nothing about the man in the suit and the Veemon cradled in some stranger's arms, Tailmon found the revelation concerning Taichi very distressing. It was easy to figure out what happened next after that.

She looked up into the night sky, and felt a wave of sadness hit her just once. If only Patamon were here, Tailmon thought. He'd come up with a way to convince Taichi. Veemon would probably suggest KO-ing Taichi with a quick _Neko Punch_ to the head. And he'd propose it **jokingly**. How unreliable, really.

The Digimon of Light shook the nostalgia away. _Focus, Tailmon, focus! _

Minutes passed.

Nothing.

Tailmon yawned. _I wonder how Hikari's doing?_

* * *

Yoyogi Park at night was the perfect place to relax and watch the stars. It was quiet. Tranquil. Couples loved hanging out there.

This time, however, the park was almost empty. Eerily so. Coincidence or fated, it didn't matter. Either way, it played quite well for the Chosen Child of Courage, who slid into the park, towing a leashed Agumon with him. One would easily mistake him for an owner taking out his "pet" for a walk. In this time and age, digimon **were** pets.

Taichi traveled along the paved concrete as he went deeper and deeper into the park. Arriving at a secluded spot, he went off the beaten path and headed for a clearing known to be safe. As soon as the clearing entered his field of vision, a shrill, female voice stopped him. "Hold it right there."

The elder Yagami raised his hands, releasing Agumon. His eyes scattered, looking around. Something up in the trees caught his attention. Taichi squinted, and found a humanoid digimon lying on the branch, with a sniper rifle pointed directly at his chest.

"Identify yourself," ordered the voice. It came from behind. Taichi recognized it the second time.

"Relax," he cooed. "Rika, it's me. Taichi."

When Taichi felt the atmosphere was less hostile, the Child of Courage turned around to greet the girl, only to feel a slap on his face. And right where Hikari had gotten him earlier. _Not again…_

"You're late!" snapped Rika. "Thirty minutes late!"

"Sorry," he meekly responded. "Got held up at the stronghold earlier."

"That's not an excuse for the one who's gathering a **company** for this operation!" she fumed. The girl began walking towards the clearing. The dim moonlight gave her auburn hair a rather alluring glow, even when it was balled in a wild ponytail exploding like fireworks behind her scalp. "Honestly. Renamon was beginning to think you chickened out at the last minute."

"When everything's perfect?" Taichi pointed out. "Like hell I would."

"Yeah!" chirped Agumon. "He's been planning this for months now!"

"Uh huh." Rika cocked her head towards the clearing. The closer look let Taichi see the clearing was well-populated. The only illumination came from the moon; anything artificial like LEDs exposed the Digidestined to early detection, destroying whatever advantage they held now. "Well, Taichi? Everyone's waiting."

Taichi eyed Rika Nonaka as he walked towards the clearing. Rika wasn't wearing anything special for this operation. She wore a yellow-turtleneck shirt. It had a blue heart printed on its front. Her bottoms consisted of nothing more but steel-toed boots and jeans. But that was nothing compared to what the twenty-year old Rika had dangling all over her body.

Rika had a dark-brown military vest that failed to conceal the four guns holstered on her person. She was dangerous and well-armed. _Hot, too_, mused the elder Yagami, his eyes dropping on the jugs of milk that were her bosom. The young lady pierced Taichi with a rather impatient gaze, one that reminded him of an enraged demon's eyes. "What're you standing for? Get out there. We've wasted enough time already."

"No need to remind me."

The only thing annoying about her was her tendency to criticize others for their faults. So what if they were subordinates? Colleagues? Or superiors? So long as they made mistakes, Rika had made it a habit to carp on it like a mother would her own children, glossing them over with eyes demanding perfection. Many who ended up under her reign always, as in **always**, complained about her leadership style, dubbing it 'borderline totalitarian'.

Socializing with the glacial Rika Nonaka wasn't much fun. Mantarou Inoue learned it the hard way. Casting interest upon her, Taichi could remember Miyako's older brother grasping at straws to even just taste affection from her, only to fail. Miserably. Cold independence surrounded the girl. So freezing nobody dared to ask her about her own past.

Taichi had no clue either, although he's heard rumors of Rika being a 'runaway'.

Nonetheless, she had a habit of stepping up to the plate when nobody else did. The girl had a competent eye for strategy and marksmanship, as Taichi learned a year after her entry into the Digidestined. Personality quirks aside, Rika made a good leader, and a soldier, in her own right. A shame she never was a Chosen Child to begin with. Assigning her to cultivate Hikari's leadership skills wouldn't be such a bad idea, thought Taichi. _Assuming she survives tonight._

Taichi passed the tree where her digimon partner was perched. Gazing down upon the Child of Courage was a humanoid fox, her bright-yellow coat making her stand out. Her bright blue eyes stared straight at Taichi, making him feel as if they bored into his own heart and could see through his façade, sifting through it to find the atrocity he had done to his beloved sister.

_Ah, I'm thinking too much._

He took in the people gathering in the clearing. About a company of eighty, he estimated. Taichi could discern Ai and Mako among them, trying to get Impmon to stop bugging nearby digimon. Falcomon, the Kurosawa's digimon, volunteered his assistance to the kids. Their parents were close, talking to acquaintances.

Then he noticed a beautiful girl approaching him. Plodding behind her was a ToyAgumon, the multicolored version of the Digimon of Courage made _entirely_ out of Lego blocks. "Heya, Taichi!" said the girl. "Never expected **you** to be late."

"Yuuko!" They high-fived. "Sorry 'bout that," he murmured. "Hikari held me up."

Yuuko's green eyes widened. "Finally got caught, huh?"

"Yeah," sheepishly remarked Taichi. "Doesn't matter though; she let me go."

"REALLY!" Yuuko Urameshi adjusted the strap of her light machine gun running across her chest, which was tightening around her boobs. "I wonder what convinced her…"

"That's not important," dismissed Taichi. He intended to keep his crime a secret and drag it down to the grave with him. He gazed once more at the clearing. Though some had their eyes on him, the rest were still distracted. Finding Rika at the distance, keeping watch, he nodded at her. The girl caught the gesture and reciprocated. Agumon and Yuuko did the same.

_Right._ Sticking his index and middle fingers into his mouth, Taichi whistled like he never did before, drawing all attention. They were so deep in Yoyogi Park nobody heard them.

Taichi decided to start with an apology. "Sorry I'm late guys." He took out a piece of paper from his cloak. "Let's begin."

Taichi Yagami began by splitting the company to four platoons of 20. Taichi Yagami, Rika Nonaka, Yuuko Urameshi, and Mr. Kurosawa, who had some military training in the past, were designated as platoon leaders. Each platoon had about five to six people with digimon partners, or _Tamers_, as some of them preferred to be called. The rest were simply owners with liberated digimon, liberated monsters with no owner, or just ordinary people lending a hand in Taichi's just cause.

Next came roles. Rika's platoon was in charge of support, and it was she who designated the specific job descriptions of the squads under her, and which of them will accompany the other three platoons. As for the other three… what they were going to do was the very **meat** of Operation: Pyramid.

He had the platoon leaders gather and outlined Operation: Pyramid in detail.

Time and date: October 15, 2013. 9.30 PM. One hour and thirty minutes until gametime.

* * *

A nearby clock told Christopher it was half past ten.

He had walked out of the amusement park at last. For some reason he felt tired. Exhausted, corrected a little voice in his mind. Why he felt this way, he couldn't explain. Hours of walking around the Tokyo Metropolis was easy, requiring no effort on his part. No serious exertions of energy at all. Yet the blond felt some sort of fatigue creeping up at him, and with it some odd feeling that left him feeling lighter.

Whatever it was, Christopher Van Numen ignored it and concentrated on the things they did that day. Instead of running to Mt. Fuji as they were supposed to, Christopher omitted this wonderful ability of his in favor of Veemon's desire to take him around on a tour. The blue dragon swore he'd make this a fun trip for him, and Veemon did not fail to deliver. It seemed... it _felt_ strange, having one of his childhood dreams fulfilled in a world that was not his own. With a single friend he'd only just met, their great rapport notwithstanding.

Since the first photograph they took up at the _Daikanransha_, Veemon asked for the _Canon IXUS_ and held onto it like he had never held something like it in his entire life. One shot came after another, and from the corner of his goldenrod eyes, the blond caught the Chosen aiming the camera at himself and pushing the button. Many of these photos were normal. Some were wacky, with Veemon making random, ludicrous expressions for such shots. Others were practically a waste of storage space, for the Digimon of Miracles shot everything the viewfinder could see. Himself, the other digimon, other _people_, the scenery, the attractions, and... whatever that attracted the dragon's fancy.

Christopher Van Numen didn't have the heart to inform Veemon this was the last night they were going to be together. Tonight was one of those nights he'll never forget, its events burned into memory. Immense gratitude, mental as it was, were sent towards the blue dragon, for being a good friend, for trusting him when he couldn't be trusted at all, and for being a generally buoyant and upbeat person. It was a fitting parting gift between great friends, these memories.

They were set to go their separate ways tomorrow, yet Chris couldn't tell Veemon any of that. Sharing the simple things in life with another human, for the first time in three years, led Veemon to the conclusion Christopher would side with the Digidestined (temporarily) and help them fulfill their visions without undermining the progress of the human race. Knowing the blue dragon, his happiness was not at all that different from a large bubblegum bubble, and bursting it was the last thing he wanted to do.

He'd have to wait until the Chosen's with the Digidestined, for that assures him Veemon isn't likely going to fall victim to the curse that was himself.

Christopher's plan wasn't hard to understand. Find these… Digidestined people. Extract information on R&D. Infiltrate the DSI, retrieve the Realmstone, and destroy anything æther-related.

Then it's goodbye to this universe.

* * *

Contrary to what Christopher thought, Veemon was finished with his camera. Holding it in his palm, his mind ran through the hours they spent killing time, having fun. He sat on Chris's shoulders, content with a day (evening) well spent. Returning to these places gave Veemon that warm and fuzzy feeling. This was nostalgia, he knew, as he recalled those happy days with Daisuke and friends. Though Christopher was technically a captive audience, Veemon didn't think it mattered. Having someone to listen made everything better.

And besides, Chris was genuinely curious about the dragon's past.

Odaiba had not changed much in the past three years. Though there were new shops, people he no longer recognized, and digimon strolling in public, as strays or as 'docile pets', it really hasn't changed a lot. The only difference was that everybody he knew had moved out from there a long time ago. Ah, the independence sought by teenagers approaching adulthood.

Being in Odaiba reminded Veemon too much of Daisuke. It was a terrible feeling, not sharing life with his rightful, digimon partner. That didn't mean he held no appreciation for his friendship with Christopher. Although only a week had passed since the first contact, both of them cooperated in a big battle, bonding before and after. They connected very easily. Veemon wasn't so dense as to not notice this budding friendship. In all honesty, Veemon at this point considered Chris a close friend.

Despite this tight relationship, obviously it wasn't the same without Daisuke. The reasons are obvious: Veemon was Daisuke's digimon partner, and vice-versa. That will never change. Truly, life was better spent with the one you were destined to be with.

Still on his shoulders, Veemon turned on Chris's camera and began scouring through the photographs recently taken. They ranged from self-portraits immortalizing the many faces he could make to dazzling pictures of the night scenery, and sneaky shots of the people around them. He had abused the camera. Toyed with it.

Then he returned to those pictures back at the Ferris wheel. While most of them degenerated into wacky shots (the dragon insisted he didn't want anything boring), only the very first was formal: a photo of the Chosen and his friend smiling at the camera, each with one hand making 'V' signs. He could already imagine inserting his human half into this picture. Veemon was sure the two would make good buddies.

Without meaning to, Veemon pushed one of the buttons next to the digital camera's tiny LCD screen. It flashed to a photograph an ordinary person would associate with a science-fiction media like _Rogue_ _Galaxy_, _Star Ocean_, or _Star Trek_. The dragon stared curiously. _Oooooooohhh._

A prismatic nebula of the most beautiful crimson served as the background. Standing on the foreground, the subjects of this photograph, was unmistakably Christopher Van Numen, who had a smile one can only associate with the greatest happiness. Beside him was a woman Veemon knew a Hikari-stricken Daisuke Motomiya would definitely fall for. Her hazel hair flowed gorgeously to some point beneath her shoulders. Warm, cerulean eyes gazed back at the camera. Her disarming smile affected even Veemon, stoking flames of awe in him. _Wow. _She wore a purple robe.

It didn't take long for the blue dragon to realize he was looking at a picture of Sally, whose death continued to wrench at his friend's heart. Chris's smile made it apparent. Ostensible. If this wasn't her, why would he be so happy in this portrait, then?

"Christopher..."

Curiosity took over. The two words shot out of his mouth as if he pressed the trigger completely by accident. "Who's Sally?"

The moment he said it, Veemon imagined how Christopher would react. First he'd grimace. Then he'd grab the camera and digitize it in the Scanner. Afterwards, Veemon would be scolded for sticking his nose where it didn't belong and told him to mind his own business, finally clamming up for the rest of the night, sulking, all the energy drained out as if this relaxing day never happened.

.

"Vee, you're looking at _that_ picture, aren't you?" Christopher seized the camera and digitized it in the R-Scanner. The dragon braced himself for censuring. Instead of being told to mind his own business like he anticipated, Christopher gazed up at Veemon. He could see the melancholy in his goldenrod eyes. "You want to know that bad, huh?"

The Digimon of Miracles nodded.

He took a deep breath. "Sally is—was—the most important person in my life."

"How important?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Chris chuckled. "To a man who has lost everything?" He continued talking. "I met her in a space prison, not long after I myself was brought there. That's how it all started: two inmates becoming friends." A smile curled on Chris's face. "She never believed I could've escaped anytime. It was safer for me there. She thought I was crazy! At least, not until things started happening." Wheezing a sad sigh, "Then we started traveling together and in time," his voice weakened, "she grew to love me, and me her. We supported each other." He looked up at Veemon. "Turns out she also lost everything she cherished before she met me. That made me the only thing she had left. 'There's no point living' if I died, Sally told me."

The blond made a sound. It was probably a chortle, though it sounded more like a _whimper_ to Veemon. "That damn priestess never let me do anything stupid or desperate for her. Not even once. It's funny, since that's, that'ssss..." Chris's voice lagged, struggling to actually say the next words. "The, reason. T-the, the reason. She. S-she...

.

"...died. Right... in front of me..."

Chris began speaking like he wasn't talking to Veemon anymore, unloading all his grief at once. "Everyone with me gave their lives just to keep us alive, and to stop me from doing stupid things. And in the end, it amounted to **nothing**. Nothing." The blond smiled, creeping the dragon out. The Chosen didn't want to even see it. Chris's situation was so bad he didn't even know how to react to it. "Now I'm alone. Again."

Something about that last word had a finality to it, as if despondent loneliness and singularity filled his life. Christopher no longer said a word, his buoyancy completely sapped. "I'm sorry," Veemon apologized, already regretting he inquired about Sally. There was no reply. Silence stood between them, and it bothered the blue dragon to see Christopher this sad. Observing this reminded him of two memories distant in time: Daisuke's slight battle with depression ten years ago during the liberation of the Gazimon Village, and the post-battle discussion he, Wormmon, and Agumon had with BlackWargreymon.

Getting others to lighten up was something uniquely Veemon. He did it with a passion, to the point he was willing to put himself at risk or say embarrassing things. As they traveled beside a river, Veemon rested his chin on Chris's head, wondering what to do. The latter was quiet, plodding on the sidewalk. He blinked. _I know!_ The blue dragon flipped backwards, secured on the blond's shoulders. He slammed his fingers into Chris's armpits and started tickling him, causing Chris to laugh hard. Real hard. He couldn't even curse.

"Why you!" Chris retaliated, pursuing Veemon, who leaped down from his back and dodged every grabbing attempt.

Soon the two were playing like little children. Then they started using wrestling moves on each other, trying to hold and pin each other down. Every try was thwarted and countered. As the game roughened up, the two friends grabbed hold of each other and brought the match to the ground, rolling down a small hill until they fell to a flat riverbank, continuously trying to subdue each other with well-executed pins. Veemon's smaller size gave him an advantage. Christopher was restraining himself, as usual.

In moments, Veemon managed to plant his three-toed foot right on top of Chris's nose, grounding his face ("Mmf!"). He pinned Chris down while he lied on his belly working on his sides. The dragon heard Chris curse his small size. Veemon responded by pausing, making eye contact, and sticking his tongue out mischievously.

"GAHAHAAAAAA!" Chris squealed, breaking into a fit of laughter.

Eventually, the blond conceded. "Okay-okay-okay!" He rose, summoning his suppressed strength. Veemon fell to the ground face-first. Christopher patted the dirt off himself and, while the Chosen was wiping moist soil from his face, tendered a hand. "I'm happy," he said. "Okay? I'm happy. You can stop now."

Veemon laughed. _You never admit defeat, don't you? _Chris joined in, as if concurring with his thoughts._  
_

* * *

After the short bout of laughter, Veemon grinned and climbed on his back, this time settling on the usual position. Feet in the vest pockets, body secured on the back and seated on top of the staff, arms locked below the neck, and head resting on one of the shoulders. "That was fun." He yawned.

Christopher began climbing the hill they rolled down from. For a short one the incline was somewhat steep. "Yeah," he confessed, having taken a minute to reply. Looking back, _wow, we're lucky we didn't land in the river. That would've been a killjoy._

The blue dragon leaned on Christopher's head when he finally felt solid asphalt. _That Daisuke guy's lucky to have a friend like Vee. _His goldenrod eyes darted toward Veemon, who had just fallen asleep. _Yep, I'll miss this little dragon when I leave._

* * *

The Digital Suppression Initiative's global office stood erect and powerful in Shinjuku, unwavering, ready to endure all. Its security was so tight it was comparable to the security detail enjoyed by the American President.

Scanners meant to detect unregulated or tampered SCAI's can be found within three kilometers of the office, along with security cameras. Each scanner had the ability to suppress normal evolution, similar to the Dark Spires once employed by the (former) Digimon Kaiser. They were grouped into areas, areas governed by a power regulation nexus distributing electricity to each one. While this made the equipment more vulnerable to disabling, it was more efficient simply because it cut off the DSI's power from those enjoyed by consumers. It was cost-efficient, **and** it prevented any blackout befalling Tokyo from even affecting the main office.

Cement barriers taller than men lined the perimeters, which were divided into five levels represented by the layers of security nexi. Armed guards patrol the outer perimeter dutifully. They always inspected anybody coming in, whether it was for work, for tourism, or for some other reason. In the event someone actually had the guts (or the insanity) to launch a direct assault, the DSI had military might backing them up from within, and the SAT from without.

Surely not even the Chosen Children—or the Digidestined, as they called themselves now, comprised of mostly rebellious Tamers and unlawful Owners—would dare force an entry.

.

Until **tonight**.

.

Tonight began like any other night in the DSI Zone. Purely a business district, all residents of the DSI Zone lived beyond the three-kilometer security perimeter. Like any other day, everybody went home from the office, tired and exhausted. Some were burned out from work. Others were excited for the next day.

As midnight approached, this part of Shinjuku became quiet. It was a ghost town, populated only by security cameras, scanners, and the uncommon guardsman keeping eyes wide for any suspicious activity, criminal or digital.

That's when the attack began.

One of the outer gates, regulating incoming-outgoing vehicles _and_ personnel, was engulfed in an explosion. Nearby guards were alerted, rushing to the gate, only to be fired upon. Most died. The few who survived, ducking behind cover, glimpsed their invaders: a large group, around twenty people. About a quarter of them had digimon, some of which had guns. Most of the humans were heavily armed. This particular group was led by a young woman perhaps 20 years in age. She saw the men cowering behind cover and aimed her weapon at them: an M240 LMG. It was military-grade.

After clearing the area, Yuuko Urameshi, the platoon leader, ordered her platoon to split into their designated squads (Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta) and advance. A dying guard watched her shuffle to his side. She muttered, "The Digidestined are fighting back, DSI." Yuuko spat on him.

"Yeah," joined ToyAgumon, stepping on the guard's face and crushed it.

.

"Alpha and Gamma, you're with me!" As she tied her long, deep brown hair with a red hairclip, she looked at the eight people left behind. Almost all of them owned or were partnered with a digimon. "Beta and Delta, you guys guard our backs. We can't let the police in here."

"_Everyone. Before we all head out, there's something I'd like to say."_

Yuuko Urameshi pushed forward, traveling two blocks east. Her half-platoon was assaulted by several guards coming in from the south, but the girl and her teammates took cover. Her emerald eyes aimed down the iron sights of her M240, keeping a tight hold on the LMG's grip. She pulled the trigger, plugging a few holes in several targets. Alpha, the squad Yuuko herself led, went ahead of them while she and Gamma covered their advance.

An intersection was coming up ahead. They had to turn north and run up another two blocks. _Long_, two blocks. Alpha was stacked up on the corner. Gamma was still watching the rear, keeping an eye on a few alleys and the main road they had left behind. Yuuko eyed a man older than her, who was accompanied by a blue crab-like digimon. "Satomi," she called. "You first."

"_You have NO IDEA how much it means to me seeing so many out here. Out of everyone I approached, I never expected as much as one company. Some of you are minors. Fewer, barely teens! Yet you chose to participate in this operation, with or without me."_

Satomi complied with the order and went ahead, his digimon scurrying behind, trying its best to avoid clicking its large pincers—they seemed capable of cutting through steel without much effort. He peeked to the left, only to retreat the next second. A few bullets chipped the corner of the wall in the next jiffy. "Few guards coming, and fast. The rest are hiding behind a row of parked cars."

"Tch," grumbled Yuuko. "They don't want us from reaching the objective. Satomi, you've got a glimpse of the street. What's the layout?" she asked. "We'll need some cover."

"Road's completely open, Yuuko," Satomi responded. "Sidewalk's our only chance. It's got some lampposts, a couple of mailboxes."

"_All of you should understand you are placing your lives and names at risk. We've been branded terrorists by the very same people who turned us into outcasts! Yet…" _

"What about the shops and stores lining the buildings?"

"They've got depressions we can use. I think I saw a few dead-end alleys, but I'm not sure."

"_Only through this operation will we truly adopt this disgusting label."_

"Beggars can't be choosers," shrugged Yuuko. "Let's go!" She prepped her LMG and plunged straight into the action, hiding behind the thick, steel post of a lamp and opened fire, killing a few and sending the rest dashing for cover. The diversion allowed her to move up to a small depression in the building constructed as part of the design for a branded clothing store. Satomi followed her lead and took cover behind the lamppost, with another squad member peeking out into the street.

"_But, we have no choice." _

A firefight broke out behind Yuuko's squad. Ganimon, Satomi's digimon, glanced in the direction they just came from and yelled to Yuuko, "They're using an alley to get behind us!"

Urameshi flinched. "Dammit, weren't Beta and Delta watching our backs?" She pushed a button on her piece, set on the frequency of her support squads. "What's happening to you guys? They're getting us on the rear-end!"

"_I have tried peaceful ways countless times. I'm sure everyone in the Digidestined, not just the Chosen Children, not _just_ the people here, did their best to make a positive impact on society."_

A male voice answered her in five seconds. "Sorry, Yuuko. Cops came in with the SAT!" _SAT? __**Already**__? _"We're barely holding the line here. Our digimon's the only reason we're still alive."

"_Instead of magnanimity and rational morality, we met __**failure**__! AGAIN AND AGAIN!"_

"Isn't Rika's Theta squad supposed to keep track of you—"

"_Ridiculed. Ostracized. Harassed."_

Rika Nonaka's calm voice shrilled into the speakers, cutting the man. "My team can't cover for you until you've destroyed the first security nexus." She had been eavesdropping on their conversation! "Theta's telling me SAT's sweeping the place and they can't risk being backdoored until they can follow your platoon into the perimeter. They're not equipped for a standoff with armed policemen shooting to kill."

"_There is only so much bullying, discrimination, and torture, one man—all of us—can endure."_

"But they've got digimon!" protested Urameshi.

"Child-levels are cannon fodder against the SAT," replied Rika, while Yuuko gunned down an approaching guard and forced the others behind him to hide behind their police cars, spreading thirty bullets on them. "Normal evolution's being suppressed there. **You have to destroy the nexus**."

"_If we let this farce run amuck what kind of future awaits this world? How will your relatives live? Your children? Your digital friends?" _

"Grrr," she growled. "So it's up to us." Yuuko leaned outward, gunned down a guard running to her.

"TOY FLAME!" ToyAgumon coughed up a plastic ball of flame and spat it right out, hitting the man's belly. He went down instantly, writhing in pain from horrible burns. His attack maybe downright harmless as far as concussion went, but in terms of heat, it was very capable of inflicting incapacitating damage.

Yuuko's bullets, along with those from squad Alpha's assault rifles, forced the others to dive behind their precious cars, breaking the glass windows. Meanwhile, she led her squad forward, most of them now hiding behind depressions in the buildings. The lampposts were simply too open. "Six guards left, I think," suggested ToyAgumon.

Urameshi chuckled. "They only got pistols. We're lugging the big boys."

"_This is why we're here."_

Gunfire erupted from behind, bullets whizzing to the enemies ahead. _Now's my chance!_ Yuuko popped out of cover and dashed forward, sidling beside a traffic post to bombard the cars with a maelstrom of steel. She had ToyAgumon daringly move ahead, preparing his attack. Though multicolored, ToyAgumon's small stature **and** the fact the guardsmen were being suppressed by fire from Alpha's three squad members worked to his advantage. Even better, Gamma was already following Alpha's lead, little by little. Two members of Gamma had already followed, shooting on the men the best they could without wasting precious ammunition. Whenever they reloaded, their digimon took over.

"_This is why we now embrace this last resort."_

ToyAgumon coughed up a drop of flame and spat, aiming for the DSI-marked vehicle's fuel tank. "TOY FLAME!" He took cover behind a shop immediately. Seeing this, Yuuko advanced fearlessly, making a gesture in the air that prompted Alpha to follow suit, no longer ducking behind cover.

"_**TO TAKE DOWN THE DIGITAL SUPPRESSION INITIATIVE!**__"_

It seemed like a crazy idea.

But it wasn't.

No sooner had the plastic fireball touched the car, the intense heat scarred the metal cap. "Yuuko!" called ToyAgumon. His human partner was way ahead of him. ToyAgumon's _Toy Flame _acted like a target marker. Yuuko joyfully shot at the highlighted area, enjoying increased accuracy from close proximity. The gasoline was ignited, soon engulfing the vehicle in a fiery explosion that hurled some shrapnel around the vicinity. Team Alpha was unharmed, thanks to the distance. Yuuko shielded herself with a lamppost and narrowly avoided a piece of the car, before resuming her approach, creeping out in the open, pulling the trigger on her M240, and landing gunshots on the guardsmen scattering from their compromised position.

ToyAgumon advanced and hid behind the charred vehicle. The men were killed, either from gunfire or the explosion. Yuuko ran towards him. "ToyAgumon, retrieve one of their earpieces and hold onto them!"

"Why?" blankly asked the toy dinosaur.

"_FOR THOSE WE LOVE! FOR THE INNOCENT! FOR MORAL INTEGRITY!"_

Yuuko snorted. "It's worth knowing what DSI's up to!"

Thirty seconds passed. Alpha had caught up with her. Gamma had taken her squad's previous position, keeping an eye on the rear. Beta and Delta were holed up with the SWAT and that meant the DSI could flank at anytime. Mission failure at a crucial stage of _Pyramid_ must not happen, not when the timing was so perfect!

As soon as Gamma positioned themselves close to the cars, still using cover along the sidewalk, Yuuko Urameshi chose this time to push forward. However, another group of cars suddenly drove in from the next street, with armed men getting off. _More DSI guards_, observed Yuuko.

However, these were guardsmen better equipped for confrontation with the Digidestined. Bullets hailed down upon Yuuko's squad, forcing a retreat. They exchanged gunfire for two minutes, before Alpha _as a team_ had to reload. Satomi's gun had jammed and he was working hard to fix it.

"_Tonight, DSI is at its weakest! Concentrating on the Digital World, it is low on manpower—an advantage we'll exploit to SHUT DOWN DSI OPERATIONS NATIONWIDE by dawn!"_

She peeked out, eyeing the guards blocking their progress. _How much manpower does the DSI still have?_ Yuuko wondered. _We're already attacking them at their weakest and they've still got enough security to hold us off!_

Time ran out for Alpha. One second later, a couple of cylinders landed beside them, bursting into clouds of gas. One sniff and she knew what it was. Tears began streaming out her eyes and it was getting harder to breath. _Tear gas!_ "Alpha," Yuuko ordered, "scatter!"

The broken formation left a gap in their defense, allowing DSI guardsmen to advance and push them back. Two Digidestined combatants fell in this rush. One was wounded in the arm, and had to treat it while his digimon looked out for him. The other wasn't so lucky—shot in the head, he died in an instant.

"_Some Digidestined, like Hikari, my sister, will disapprove. They may even disown us to save face. But I know… I know for a fact…"_

There were only **two** endings awaiting a digimon whose partner had died. Instant deletion was the first, and the most common of all. It didn't matter whether its human half was as far as the other side of the world or as close as skin contact could permit. Once the human died, the partner monster burst into particles almost simultaneously. The second was rarer, but superlatively pitiful: the digimon would hold onto the living world as much as possible, in shock and torment from the untimely death of the human it is partnered with. Never more than thirty seconds later, unconsciousness would hit the poor creature and render him catanonic, fated to die days later from multiple organ failure arising from starvation. Whichever of the two occurred depended on the relationship the digimon had with its human half—a stronger bond and more resilient willpower correlated more with the second manner of death.

In this case, the digimon of the newly-deceased dispersed into data particles without warning: the first ending. Yuuko watched helplessly from the safety of her cover. Then she heard the cocking of a couple guns from the left. Turning towards the sound, the lady found a couple of guardsmen aiming their submachineguns at her. ToyAgumon had just noticed them now, and there was nothing he could do. Yuuko desperately aimed her M240 at them, only to realize the magazine was empty. She needed to reload, but didn't have the time to do it. The next best option was to reach for the P90 hoisted on her back… unfortunately it required two seconds to grab and prep it for firing. _I won't make it! _Two seconds denied by these sneaky guards.

"_That we __**will**__ inspire the flames of courage, the light of hope, in the Digidestined around the world!"_

Gunshots boomed from behind, striking the two in the head. Her green eyes turned to her savior: Satomi, who had also ended up following her as Alpha scattered from the tear gas grenades. "Thank you!" she praised him. "THANK YOU!"

Satomi was about to reply when Ganimon, his digimon, beat him. "It's not yet time to celebrate! We have to find a way out of this mess."

"_Still, we are up against the DSI, the greatest enemy the Chosen Children ever faced."_

Urameshi was reloading her LMG. At the same time, she had her eye on the alleyway her two ambushers just came from. _Hmm._ The woman turned to her only teammates at present: ToyAgumon, Ganimon, and Satomi. They've got about a hundred meters or so northeast left to the security nexus. Yuuko surveyed her partner digimon. ToyAgumon, though he had a powerful flame attack, would not be able to make much of a difference against several combatants. Ganimon had no ranged attacks and worse, was unable to use guns thanks to his constitution.

Giving undue emphasis on the grenade launcher attachment on Satomi's AK-47, Yuuko chose the best strategy they had available at the moment. "ToyAgumon, Renamon taught you how to use guns, right?"

"Yeah. Why—"

The lady took out her P90 and tossed it to ToyAgumon, who grabbed it instinctively, feeling the weight bog him down. She also threw a couple of clips at him. "You're gonna hold them off. Satomi and I will go give them a shock of their own."

"What about me?" mumbled Ganimon, sad at his omission.

Yuuko rolled her eyes. "It's obvious you know…"

"Ganimon, just make sure ToyAgumon doesn't get into trouble." Satomi flashed a thumbs-up. "'Kay?"

"Okay," Ganimon replied, buoyed.

.

"_As much as I hate saying it, if we want to win…"_

Yuuko Urameshi and Satomi scampered into the alley, bearing left as it split into two directions. It was a narrow road. Too narrow for a large group to go through, or even notice. No wonder they weren't ambushed from here. So far everything was going well for the two: not only were there zero encounters in this deserted, filthy alley, but also had a peculiar lack of security cameras.

"_If we want to change this world…"_

The alley again branched into two paths, one forward to the next street, the other left overlooking the second line of cars. It was unguarded, as most of its users had advanced forward. She grinned. "Satomi, you go on ahead. When you find the nexus, start the fireworks right away." Yuuko winked. "You get what I'm saying?"

"_If we want a miracle…"_

He nodded. "Yeah." Satomi ran further north, while Yuuko veered eastward, readying her M240. Inching to the corner, the lady could easily see the backs of two and a half squads' worth of guardsmen sweeping the street with Teams Alpha and Gamma. _Her_ comrades.

"_We must—we __**MUST**__!"_

Yuuko aimed down her LMG's iron sights. "You guys are so dead."

"_Fight to kill."_

* * *

Satomi chose to stack up on the eastern side of the corner instead of peeking immediately. It was a good decision, otherwise he would've been seen immediately by two guardsmen rushing to reinforce their allies in the other street. He snuck a peek when he was certain the coast was clear. The road was wide. It had an overpass for white-collars working in the buildings nearby. Underneath the overpass—and on his side of the street!—was a tall metallic structure almost as high as the overpass itself. It was fenced off from the public, and for good reason: "high voltage" warnings surrounded it.

Two men were guarding the structure. This was obviously the security nexus. One look at it led Satomi to guess the wires delivering electricity from the nexus to all the scanners and cameras in a 200-meter radius ran underneath it. Not that it mattered.

Satomi breathed, gathering courage. In a second, he popped out of the alley and gunned the two down using his AK-47. The man gazed back to check if the other two heard the shots and came running back, only to find an empty street. _Great_, he thought to himself, aiming the AK-47 as he closed in on the nexus, cocking the grenade launcher.

He fired.

An explosion struck the fencing, damaging the machine slightly.

"That's not enough for Yuuko", reprimanded a voice in his head. "She wanted fireworks."

Satomi reloaded the launcher and lobbed another grenade at the security nexus. _I'll give her fireworks! _This time it made impact on the structure itself, erupting in a flashy explosion.

A bullet grazed his ear. Satomi dove behind a trash can and found two men in uniform, guns drawn, running back. He took aim and opened fire.

* * *

ToyAgumon was unaccustomed to using guns. _Toy Flame_ and melee attacks had always been his code of conduct for battles. Unfortunately, the _Toy Flame_ didn't amount to much in the Real World. It caused no explosions, no lasting effects, save for burns caused by direct contact. It's not likely to kill a man unless it struck a vulnerable spot of the human body.

Being forced to use guns made the toy dinosaur shudder. Point and shoot? Guns weren't simply point-and-shoot. His accuracy needed plenty of improvement. Mastery over marksmanship required proper breathing and stances, each for varying situations soldiers encounter commonly on the field. ToyAgumon may have been taught how to use a gun, but that's it. The finesse of shooting with ammunition efficiency in mind was something he never bothered with. Why should he, when he was a digimon? ToyAgumon came with infinite ammo and a pretty strong attack.

Like the amateur he was, ToyAgumon fired haphazardly at the guardsmen, eating away the little ammo Yuuko had given him. He had **no idea** how many he shot, if any at all. ToyAgumon tried another _Toy Flame_ when his gun ran out of bullets, but all that did was alert the men to his position and bombard the location. He hid behind a lamppost and reloaded the gun, struggling to remember what was taught to him. _Okay, so I take out the magazine. _He fondled the weapon for the button that released the empty clip.

Out of pure luck, he managed to find it, and release the magazine. _I jab the new one in the gun and_, he pulled on the movable part of the weapon, cocking it. _Cock it._

ToyAgumon smiled for a second, before leaning out to fire. Too bad a guard dared to approach him and kick the P90 off his hands. Before ToyAgumon could retaliate with a _Toy Flame_, the man raised his submachinegun and pulled the trigger.

In a blur, a blue pincer grabbed his neck and crushed it, to the point it decapitated the DSI-hired security. "SCISSORS EXECUTION!" Warm blood gushed out, dousing crimson both ToyAgumon and Ganimon, who had snuck behind him. "Close one," he said. It was almost inaudible as far as the toy dinosaur was concerned: Ganimon's voice sounded a lot like a squeak. Thinking about it amazed him how Satomi could even converse with the crab monster.

An explosion to the northeast suddenly jolted the air, distracting even the advancing guards, who fell down two by two due to Yuuko appearing from behind and mowing _all of them_ down using her M240. Combined with return fire from ToyAgumon and the remaining members of teams Alpha and Gamma, none of them had a chance.

That's when the DSI reports streamed into the earpiece ToyAgumon had stolen (and wore).

The first thing he heard when he put it on were all messages involving heavy counterattack against the separate groups, keeping the invaders busy until reinforcements arrived from the Japanese police and the DSI military. Now it had come alive, bursting with activity.

"SAT under fire from above!"

"Snipers!" Agumon could discern. "They've got snipers!"

"Shuu here. Nexus 5F's been destroyed. I repeat, Nexus—Aaagh!" His voice vanished

_Good job, Yuuko_, thought the Lego dinosaur, running forward to reunite with his digimon partner. Ganimon followed suit. In a matter of minutes, the rest of the platoon had caught up to them, albeit reduced in number. Estimated casualties for Yuuko's platoon were six out of twenty: four dead; two wounded and incapable of fighting, now under the care of the Theta snipers.

* * *

"First nexus down."

Yuuko's announcement let Rika heave a sigh of relief. The way she was progressing had worried her. Rika never bothered getting to know Urameshi, but if there was one thing she knew about her, it was her tendency to literally take charge and leap without looking. Had she failed, Rika would've immediately notified Taichi about it. The Chosen Child of Courage would've aborted the mission at once, and ordered only the rescue and extraction of what's left of the first platoon. After all, _Pyramid_'s success was hinged completely on the preemptive strike.

Destroying the nexi was paramount. Doing so would shut the eyes of the DSI and lift the veil of suppression on the digimon within the area. Rika assigned one sniper squad per platoon. She herself led a small squad providing extreme-long range visual _and_ fire support. Currently they were occupying the rooftops of two faraway buildings in adjacent blocks, having split into two fireteams. This expanded their line of vision, yet kept everyone close enough in case they were compromised. Their digimon's heightened senses supplied some convenience in watching the rear, i.e. the doors from the emergency stairwells.

Rika was distant from the battlefield, yet held the most important role. She determined the timing of each phase of the operation. Without her, this invasion would be nothing more than a reckless uprising.

"Rika."

Renamon had called out to her. Rika Nonaka walked past a teammate, sauntering to the yellow fox, who was looking over the southwest side of the roof. "What is it?"

Her piercing eyes never turned to her own tamer, directed instead at a few lights in the distance, closing in. "SAT. Two vans. Coming in from southwest."

"Trying to sneak up on Yuuko's platoon."

"Probably."

Rika took out a small binoculars from her vest and peered. The reinforcements can clearly be seen from this vantage point. None of the shorter buildings obstructed her view. Though they were far, interception was possible. "Renamon?"

The mere utterance of her name prompted the fox to go prone and start setting up her rifle, finishing in five seconds. The weapon was an enormous construct of a bolt-action rifle meant for extreme-long range support and unparalleled stopping power. Donated by an anonymous sympathizer from the United States, it was designed for use by a digimon. Rika had **absolutely no idea** how this monster of a gun passed through customs and security screens unchecked and unaltered. Taichi had trouble finding sharpshooters until Renamon, with her sharp eyes, heightened senses, and rigid disclipline, volunteered to take on the job of handling this masterpiece.

Renamon loaded the magazine, which had seven anti-materiel rounds loaded with explosive, incendiary, and armor-piercing components. The gargantuan caliber and the payload combined would destroy a US-grade tank no problem. If it weren't for the high stakes running on this operation, Rika would've betrothed some pity for the two vehicles they targeted.

"Intervening."

It was the call word Renamon used whenever she took aim through the rifle's ACOG scope. Eponymous, it reflected the weapon this beast was based on: the CheyTac Intervention. Rika peered through her telescope, watching the SAT close in on Yuuko's rear. It was only a matter of time before they swooped in for the kill.

They were driving towards a tall structure, one that obstructed their view. If they pass that, it's over. Further fire support would require deserting their comfy perch. Rika had no intentions of leaving this vantage point: it allowed a stellar view of the city. Good for sightseeing. Better for guiding the general layout of _Pyramid_ and relaying all information to the Child of Courage.

Fifteen seconds. That's how much time they had.

Then Renamon pulled the trigger. Though the Intervention had a silencer equipped, it didn't do much to muffle the sound for those near enough to hear it. Even Rika's teammates on the adjacent building heard it and turned for a momentary look.

Rika concentrated on the two vehicles, anxious. One second passed.

Renamon unlocked the bolt and discarded the spent shell casing, locking it again with the gun re-chambered. Two seconds.

_I hope the wind conditions were optimal. _Three.

Four. Boom. The front van burst into flames, cartwheeling into an explosion that lit up the street. The SAT van trailing it stopped to avoid colliding with the latter, its occupants undoubtedly caught off-guard.

That didn't stop Renamon from shooting again. A stationary target made the job easier. Exactly four seconds later, another explosion ensued, killing all the occupants inside just as they realized they were under sniper fire.

"Intervention complete."

"Bullseye in three kilometers. Twice." Rika remarked as Renamon opened and closed the bolt. "Looks like you just set a new record, Renamon." Renamon set the safety lock before slinging the weapon on her back.

The two high-fived.

.

.

Rika's earphone crackled to life. "Second nexus down, three minutes ahead of schedule," declared Yuuko's voice. The young lady wondered how many died fighting off the first platoon. Killing fellow humans made many Digidestined shudder, including Rika herself. That they weren't killing innocent civilians was the only consolation.

"Rika, the DSI's head of external security just gave the order to focus all manpower on us."

"What's your source?"

"ToyAgumon's got one of their earpieces right before we took out the first nexus. Those idiots in M&A haven't figured out we've looted their men."

"Can you still handle it?"

Gunshots echoed from Yuuko's side of the line. She paused, shooting back. She returned in a minute. _Taking cover, _Rika presumed. "Yeah," Yuuko chuckled. "Your snipers are doing wonders here. We would've been flanked loooong ago if it weren't for them." Rika took it as a compliment—she and Renamon worked hard to mold their sniping skills, supplementing their semi-automatic rifles.

"What's your status?"

"Leading three squads to destroy the third nexus. They've got a shitload of men guarding—oop!" Yuuko disappeared.

Ten seconds passed. "Sorry, she apologized. Some asshole snuck up on me." Rika heard her kick a corpse. "Satomi's pretty decent in a fireteam." It was amazing to hear her speak in a jocular tone, given the situation she's in. "Who knew?"

A blast in the speaker indicated the destruction of the third nexus. "Third nexus down," she reported. Yuuko then posed a question, having taken a moment to consider. "So, is it time yet?"

"Time?"

"Yep." Rika could imagine her wide grin. Yuuko always liked action. And who didn't? Hiding out in the Mt. Fuji stronghold for months on end _was_ boring. For both digimon and human alike. "For the second phase."

Rika glanced at her watch. It was thirty minutes past midnight. "Anytime now."

As if on cue, a resounding explosion **boomed** a good distance away from Yuuko's area of responsibility. A flash of red-orange lit up a distant street still within Rika and Renamon's lines of sight.

"Right on time, Kurosawa. Right on time."

* * *

Mr. Kurosawa's entry into the fray was a spectacular one. Though DSI had heightened security on all gates surrounding the third perimeter, they never expected an attack on the southeastern side in **four different gates SIMULTANEOUSLY**

.

Grenades rained on the gates, destroying the concrete blockades and killing several guards just as heavy gunfire erupted and pushed surviving guards back. Invading the line was a squad of about five people, organized in a manner reminiscent of the US Marine Corps. Every person had a specific role to play—a team leader, a grenadier, an automatic rifleman, a squad assist, and either a tamer or owner (one squad had a digimon instead, being a liberated creature the Digidestined plucked off the streets). They all worked independently of each other, preventing the uneventful failure of one from decimating the plan.

Yuuko Urameshi, on the other hand, after splitting her platoon into four, moved as one unit. Two guarded the rear, while two pushed forward. The end result was similar to a beacon of light shining in a sea of darkness. Stopping the advance of the two forward squads meant delaying Yuuko's progress towards the main convergence point.

Mr. Kurosawa's strategy was to exploit all the attention being drawn by Urameshi's forces and and have his platoon split up into four squads and attack. Each of their moves was pre-planned out on a map, kept track of by the squad's leader. The distance between each gate and the number of gates attacked led to a strain on the southeast's **already limited pool** of manpower as well as a maximization of the platoon's area of effect. With each squad vying for the nexi in their path, four nexi were destroyed in less than fifteen minutes. The consequent liberation of surveillance increased the freedom of mobility available to Rika's snipers, who had split into two fireteams to cover two squads at once.

The second phase of _Pyramid_ called for **tons** of explosive munitions and high-caliber, tungsten-cored bullets. Each squad assistant in Mr. Kurosawa's platoon carried a backpack chock full of grenades meant for use with the launcher module beneath the AK-47's used by the grenadiers and squad leaders. Did he even have to mention the cylinders containing belts feeding the automatic riflemen's light machineguns?

"Hiro!" he called to the man standing by a large tree planted on the sidewalk. "Watch out for the DSI!" Mr. Kurosawa huddled in an alley, resting for a bit. Taking out the first nexus took a bit out of them. Bombardment with grenades and suppressing fire required plenty of strength to contain the recoil and keep on firing. Naturally, this wellspring of endurance dried up eventually, forcing the squad to rest.

This was a disadvantage to splitting the platoon into four: the effort required multiplied by two—or even four—times.

Hirofumi Shioda, the squad's grenadier, took cover behind a tree, hugging it, eyes alert for any suspicious activity. He was at least in the squad's line of sight, and vice-versa. With external security covered, Mr. Kurosawa turned to the rest of his squad. His was the only one with six people and two digimon. To make it stand out more, it was the only one composed of family and friends.

Mr. Kurosawa himself was the team leader. His own wife, the automatic rifleman. Tadashi Katou, a family friend whose crimson hair stood out in the night, carried their extra ammunition, being the assist. Towing along were Ai and Mako, his own children, who cooperated with their partner Impmon and the family's Falcomon. Mako, the older of the two by minutes, carried a TMP Machine Pistol for self-defense. Just in case the grown-ups weren't around to cover him or her sister. (Honestly, it didn't really matter, since the digimon normally defend them with a passion.)

If he had a choice in the matter, as a father Mr. Kurosawa wouldn't have let his own children play a role in this battle. Suggestions for such would be rejected and responded to with a slap in the face. Yet when Ai Kurosawa burst from that door that afternoon during the meeting with **the** Taichi Yagami, he knew at once they, like their parents and digimon, were sick and tired of the life they led. Such desperation would lead to surreptitious participation. Mr. Kurosawa found more solace in knowing where his children were.

Mr. Kurosawa reached into his pockets and took out a pamphlet, tossing it to Mako. "Track our progress," he instructed. "We need to know if we're close to the next nexus." His eyes passed Mrs. Kurosawa's, whose irises were fixed upon him, sending invisible daggers. He sighed. _She's still angry at me_. That's what he deserved for letting the children go with them.

Having the two digimon guard the two kids was an excellent safeguard. Impmon alone may have made a fine watchman, but his tendency to act on his own and rebel against orders produced risks that were managed by Falcomon's presence, whose ninja-like qualities and presumed ability for flight (he _did_ resemble an owl after all. Complete with wings!) doubled the margin of safety.

"Dad!" Ai chirped. "Two blocks, northeast. We'll find the next nexus there," she said in complete optimism and innocence, as if the belligerent situation didn't affect her one bit.

Mr. Kurosawa, like the good father he was, praised the girl. "Good job, Ai." He nodded, stretching his limbs and checking his gun for any mechanical problems. "All right, guys, let's move—"

Gunfire burst from the street, followed by the characteristic sound of Hirofumi launching a grenade. Mr. Kurosawa twitched and sprinted to Hirofumi's position; all eyes followed him, not noticing Impmon slink away from the group. "Hiro what's going—"

"The DSI found us!" he shot a man trying to approach him from the sidewalk and lobbed another grenade. "They got bulletproof shields!"

"Dammit!" Mr. Kurosawa reached for his earset, demanding help from the sniper fireteam supposed to be watching over them, giving them the details. They responded fifteen seconds later, and the news wasn't good.

"Sorry, Mr. Kurosawa," replied the voice. He sounded like someone who was barely an adult. "We're too far away from your position, and DSI's on the prowl for us snipers. You're on your own there."

"Shit!" Mr. Kurosawa surveyed the street in an instant. There was no available cover aside from the tree already occupied by Hirofumi. _Bad. Very bad._ Addressing bulletproof shields was done through three methods: precise shooting on exposed parts of the wielder, blasting the users with grenades, or by flanking them. Precise shooting was impossible for one or two people to accomplish, not when enemies were streaming in.

Grenades weren't an option. Tadashi's backpack was light, a clear indication of the low number of grenades they had left. The third nexus was the main convergence point for Kurosawa's platoon. Expending all explosive projectiles on guardsmen would make it more difficult to destroy a nexus, or defend themselves at all.

Alternative vantage points were needed. And quickly!

"Use the alleys to get around and flank them!" Mr. Kurosawa ordered. He gestured his wife to come and assist. "The two of us will—"

Impmon's distinct voice shattered his momentum. The black imp's relatively high pitch coupled with a rather annoying accent normally associated with uneducated delinquents interrupted him. "No can do. That alley's a dead end. We're trapped like rats!"

"I-I-is this true?" stammered Ai. She was starting to grow pale.

"Whaaaat?" exclaimed the imp in a rather disrespectful tone. "I'm not going to lie to a brat like you at a time like this!"

"He ain't lying, Kurosawa!" Tadashi supported, jogging from the other end of the alley. "Past that corner's nothing but the side of a building and plenty of trash."

Sounds of gunfire gushed into their ears, this time coming from the other side of the street. Mr. Kurosawa skipped back in shock when a bullet struck the corner ahead of him. He could still see Hirofumi struggling to keep the initial assailants at bay. Raising his gun, he returned fire on the other side in an attempt to lessen the pressure on Hirofumi, who was increasingly finding his cover inadequate.

Mr. Kurosawa knew this and wasn't about to let a good friend die from something like this. "Hiro! Over here! I'll cover you!"

Shioda nodded and, emptying his clip, sprinted for the alley. Mr. Kurosawa aimed his gun and propelled a grenade into the shield of a DSI soldier sneaking up on Hirofumi with an SMG trained on him. He reloaded the launcher, banked leftward, and peeked out the corner, firing upon the DSI reinforcements swooping in. Though unequipped with shields, they were at least well-armored.

"HIROFUMI!"

Mrs. Kurosawa's distressed tone coerced him to update himself on Hiro's progress. He found the man sprawled on the ground, struggling to get into the alley. A fleeting glance at the blood dripping from his left leg was all it took to put the pieces together: in Hiro's dash to safety, one of the bullets from either the north or south grazed his leg, its immense caliber actually slicing a **chunk** off his leg. That explained both the blood and the excruciating pain evident in his friend's eyes.

Mrs. Kurosawa discarded her LMG and went straight to Hiro. "What're you doing, Junas?" her harsh voice scolded. "Your friend just got shot!" She bent down, took Hiro's arms, and pulled him to safety, ignoring the disturbing groans he made as his wound scraped across the concrete. "Hiro, you'll be okay, you'll be okay."

Junas Kurosawa ceased shooting to bestow a second's glance at the two, confirming their safety.

"Tadashi, what're you doing? HELP ME!" begged his wife. Squad assist Tadashi Katou rushed to her and brandished a first aid kit.

Meanwhile, he leaned out to fire a few more times at the oncoming DSI men. Not even three seconds have passed when a bullet struck the wall right behind his ear and another barely hitting his hand, scraping it. He winced in pain, retreating further into cover. "They're too many!"

Hirofumi gasped. "W-what're we, what're we g-g-gonna do now?"

He watched his own son clutch his head. "We, we're going to die. We're gonna die!" Ai started to cry, wailing.

.

"Shut up!" Impmon clobbered both of them. "You idiots! It ain't over 'til it's over." He pointed out the digivice clasped in Mako's hands. "You two got that digivice, don't'cha? Use it for **once**! I'm tired of watching your asses." He smirked, eyeing his two tamers. "Let me in on the fun, ahehehehehe…"

Before Ai and Mako could make a decision, Mr. Kurosawa said his piece. "NO! No evolutions 'til the third phase!"

"C'moooon, Jun!" argued Impmon. "We're about to die and you **still **want to stick to that stupid plan? Give us a break here!"

"We're still far from the center, you arrogant—"

"Sorry, Dad," cut in Mako, with an approving nod from Ai. "We do this or we die." The two joined hands, holding a turquoise-colored device together as one. They lifted it up for all to see: a small rectangular beeper with intricate designs.

"Hell yeah!" exclaimed Impmon. He pulled down his left eye and stuck his tongue out. "You better be grateful I'm on your side here!"

"…"

The two kids held out their jointly-owned digivice and called out. "Impmon, EVOLVE!" A dull, white light shone on the digivice's screen. In moments it gained intensity, blinding Mr. Kurosawa's squad, forcing them to turn their heads. Reluctance was eminent in their movements. How could they turn their heads away from the light of evolution, something only a true tamer could achieve with a digimon, something the Chosen Children were famous for? Those cartoons—_Digimon Adventure _and _Zero Two_—never did the glory of digital evolution justice, even if it **was** an animated chronicling of the journey the Twelve had undertaken.

Impmon basked in the light. "Yes," he said. Bliss (or was it ecstasy?) filled his voice. "Yes…" it reminded Kurosawa of a man on the verge of coming. "YES!" His entire body responded to the light of the digivice by glowing on his own, and soon enough the little imp became nothing more but a bright silhouette.

Before they could witness changes in Impmon's physiology, the light died. The evolution process stopped. What was a lustful smile on the digimon's face was now a confused glower. "W, what the hell? What's going on?" He ogled the two children angrily. "Hey, quit messing around and make me evolve here!"

"It's no use. We're already in the second nexus' AOE." Mr. Kurosawa complained. While he personally disapproved of this counterstrategy, it was a last resort that was bound to free them from this trouble. Seeing the failed evolution took everything out of him. _This is it. We're done for._

This was a disadvantage to splitting the platoon into four: reinforcements weren't coming.

"We'll be making a last stand right here," he said, utterly disappointed, nodding to his wife, whose look of horror tempted him to cry. With Impmon unable to evolve, they have lost their trump card. He prepared his flashbang and explosive grenades, checking to see that every able person was well-armed. Mr. Kurosawa hoped the other squads were doing well—he separated his platoon on the pretext of covering more ground, allowing more freedom for the third phase.

.

"Uhm… Mr. Kurosawa?"

Junas Kurosawa looked at the speaker. It was Falcomon, standing by him. His amber eyes held a look of determination, of a desire to help alleviate the situation. "Yes, Falcomon?"

"I have an idea," mouthed that toothless beak. The Kurosawa head couldn't help but stare at the gray tube rolling in Falcomon's deep, purple claws.

At this point, they had nothing to lose but themselves. "Let's hear it."

* * *

The DSI's guardsmen closed in on the alley. Three squads coming in from either side, forming almost one-and-a-half platoon all in all. All thirty men were fully armed with SMG's loaded with anti-personnel bullets capable of piercing low-level body armors. Operating on sightings made by now-casualties, it appeared this squad had six people, two of them kids barely in their teens. They also had two digimon, making them twice as dangerous as the other three besieging the southeastern perimeter.

Haotian, one of the guardsmen coming in from the south, was arguably impressed by the tactic. Bulletproof shields worn by the men on the other side ensured their survivability. These shields were manufactured with ergonomics in mind. One could daresay say they would make pretty good makeshift cover. Balance? Why bother when the very shape of the shield propped it up?

Haotien recalled seeing the bright light coming from the alley. He dreaded fighting one of those SCAI's. If it weren't for those damned monsters, this surprise attack on the DSI Japan headquarters would've failed in the first fifteen minutes. Truly the SCAI's were a force to be reckoned with.

Haotien just couldn't understand how the Digidestined saw these, these things, these abominations, as equals to human beings, as friends. They're BEASTS! ANIMALS! LOWER LIFEFORMS MADE FROM HUMAN INVENTION! _You let them have it their way just once, and sooner or later you'll end up as some slave, or even lunch!_ The Digital Suppression Initiative's very mission—to neutralize the threat posed to humankind by the unregulated self-conscious artificial intelligences and domesticate them for the utilitarian benefit of humanity worldwide—was noble and just. How then can the Chosen Children, the Digidestined, and their sympathizers look at the DSI as a bastion of injustice and racial superiority?

Fortunately for him, the light died down, fading away to nothingness. It relieved him. They were now within the second nexus's area-of-effect. Normal evolution was blocked. Rookies, a term coined by the DSI for child-level SCAI's, were pushovers, nothing like their Champion (Adult) counterparts. _I'm so happy to know I'm not going to die here._

There was another good thing about this light of evolution. The Chosen Children—no, the Digidestined—often used evolution as the last resort. That the squad used this meant only one thing: the alley was a dead-end and they attempted to use their trump card to reverse the tables, only to discover that the status quo remained intact.

As he and his allies came in from the south, Haotian watched a long tube fly from the alley, hurling towards the center of the robe. A flashbang? What in blazes can these people do with a mere flashbang?

Then smoke puffed out of the small tube. A lot of smoke. And fast. _Smoke grenade!_ The Digidestined were about to try something. Haotian readied himself. This was his first mission as a DSI guardsman. Worse, he hadn't even been trained much. In fact, the same went for everyone participating in the defense forces. They were "new recruits". Cadets, so to speak. Cannon fodder who were expected to fight and die for the DSI in droves, weakening the opposition just enough for the veterans to come in, finish them off, and hog all the glory. The only problem was, the guardsmen were on a level **lower** than DSI grunts, in salary, in skills, and in equipment. How pathetic could that be?

In seconds the smoke blocked the alley and the other side from the view. It was too opaque, yet translucent enough for the moonlight to sift through and allow Haotien to see dark silhouettes. He counted four shadows. Out of eight confirmed targets? Heavily outnumbered, even amateurs could take them on.

A purple blur emerged from the cloud of smoke, rushing towards Haotian's squad at breakneck speed. He managed to catch a split-second glimpse of an owl-like creature approaching them. It wore a purple vest. The collar was popped open and was decorated with two yellow shuriken icons right where the nipples would've been if it was human.

That was the last thing Haotian would see.

"UCHITAKE OTOSHI!"

That was the last thing Haotian would hear.

* * *

Falcomon had stepped up after Impmon's failed evolution, proposing his idea to Mr. Kurosawa in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. What he had in his hand was a smokescreen. One use will blanket an area in thick smoke. The strategy was to use it as cover and fight off both sides simultaneously.

However, their grenadier was wounded and not capable for active combat. Someone had to remain behind and guard the tamers and the wounded. Then there were the could a few match up to four platoons? "We won't stand a chance!" argued Impmon, who protested against the idea.

"That's where **we** come in," rebutted the grey owl. "You can guard Hiro and your tamers. The rest of us go out there and take out everyone."

"That's **boring**!" he whined. "Why can't I go out and fight?"

"You're slower than me. Your fire attacks are way too small in area. You're better off keeping everyone here safe."

Impmon didn't like the idea of sitting this one out at all. "Hmph! And if I refuse?"

"I don't have to tell you what'll happen if someone sneaks up on those two," muttered Falcomon portently, eyes staring at Ai and Mako for one second.

"Tch! You can't boss me around like this! You're just an ordinary digimon! No partner, no evolutions, no nothing!" his hurtful words spawned a blush on Falcomon's frown.

"Doesn't matter if we're not his tamers," Mr. Kurosawa intervened, ogling Impmon. "I'm approving this. It's better than just preparing for death." The stare intensified. "And you should stop complaining. You'll get your fight sooner or later, Impmon. Why're you in such a hurry? Your impatience could kill us all."

The black imp clenched his fist. He couldn't utter a word, silently watching Mr. and Mrs. Kurosawa, Tadashi (sans his backpack), and Falcomon head out.

.

Falcomon held no regrets for suggesting this desperate plan. It was risky, but it was the only he could come up with to restore some semblance of hope in the Kurosawa squad. He never liked seeing anybody in that family enter a state of despair. Seeing Ai cry, Mako go hysterical, and Mr. Kurosawa lose hope increased his determination to uplift them, and enabled the owl to concoct a reckless counterstrategy that could **possibly** get them out of this.

He rushed ahead of the three humans, telling them to take care of the guards toting shields. Falcomon intended to take out the southern half-platoon all by himself. He readied his shurikens and explosive bamboo tubes. _I'll probably die fighting __**ten**__ people, but as a digimon without a tamer, if that's what I can do to protect this family, to protect Ai and Mako, then…! _Falcomon sprinted out the clouds of smoke and whizzed towards the group, flying, targeting a squad of three and scattering explosive bamboo firecrackers on them, the shrapnel, explosive qualities, and incendiary effects resulting in the deaths of all three.

Falcomon noticed gunfire being directed at him from two different sides. He stopped suddenly, feeling a few bullets zoom past him, one of them chipping off a small part of his toothless beak. The owl glared at a tall soldier to his right, aiming a submachinegun at him. _To think he anticipated my path!_ Though these guardsmen were novices in human-to-monster combat, already the inherent skills of each survivor were manifesting themselves. Further, being a battle against thirteen, this was nothing but a fight of attrition.

_I'll take out all of you before then! _The owl somersaulted backwards, barely dodging a single burst-fire from the tall human. He flapped his wings, propelling himself into the air. He flew towards the others coming from the front. His nimble eye glanced fleetingly at the other group and caught the tall guardsmen aiming down his sights, following Falcomon's movements. _Can't let you hit me this time. _He banked upwards and during his ascent, ceased flapping and stuck both hands into his pockets, taking out four shuriken each. Falcomon lost his upward thrust, letting gravity drag him back to the earth, accelerating as he plummeted. _According to plan._

"SHURIRINKEN!" he yelled, hurling all eight shurikens at the group, forcing them to scatter. One had his throat slit by a flying shuriken. Meanwhile, Falcomon spread his wings and used the momentum to increase his flight speed. As he soared above a five-man squad all following his path with gunfire, Falcomon hugged himself and spiraled, tossing several bamboo tubes down at the DSI before any gravity-induced descent began. "UCHITAKE OTOSHI!"

Multiple microexplosions erupted around them, searing through high-level body armor. Raucous noises blared, disrupting the liquid in their ears to the point each one was simultaneous to a flashbang. All were further set ablaze by the tubes' incendiary components.

Falcomon landed on his feet, feeling firecracker debris. The five were dead. Seven remained.

The owl's sharp ears heard one gun open fire. Falcomon dove out of the way, with the bullet grazing his feathery arm. "Agh!" he squawked. Bloodstains blackened his gray feathers as Falcomon rose to see the tall human and the other six aim at him. _Still plenty of 'em. _"Need to turn the tables around," he murmured. "Shurikens and firecrackers won't be enough…" Falcomon felt something on his feet. "Hmm?"

It was the submachinegun previously held by one of his kills. Eyeing it, it seemed unharmed from the firecracker attack Falcomon had just unleashed. That in itself was miraculous. _Bullets are faster! _He kicked the firearm up and grabbed it just as he rolled out of the way, avoiding more gunfire. He cocked the weapon as he began sprinting, aiming first at the tall human. One pull released three bullets, startling the digimon with its recoil. "Whoa!" Falcomon stumbled slightly, creating an opening the DSI guards couldn't exploit because they, out of inexperience, scrambled to get out of his gun's path.

That applied to all seven… but one. The tall human crouched. _Did he know I was aiming for him from the very beginning? _The man raised his gun and pulled the trigger on his SMG. Falcomon closed his eyes. Eight people out of fifteen. The remaining seven would pose a danger for the people he so fervently defended. "I failed," he mumbled, hearing gunshots burst.

* * *

Ai Kurosawa trembled in her shoes, seeing the blood flowing out Hirofumi's wound. Though major arteries weren't hit, a chunk of the leg was taken out, to the point a curious Ai could see the white bone. The agonized look plastered on Hiro's eyes frightened her. It never fully disappeared, even as first aid was provided by both her mother and Tadashi.

_W-will, will this happen to me and Mako?_

"Arrgh." Impmon didn't do anything to silence his nasty remarks. "I can't believe I'm watching these two dead weights," he grumbled. "Damn owl. Just because he's _their_ pet. Owned digimon can't do squat fighting real soldiers…"

"R-r-REAL soldiers?" muttered Ai.

"We'll be facing **them** next. We've only been fighting guards so far. All novices…"

"D-dead weights? Us two? S-so, that means, th-that…!"

"Impmon, shut up! You're scaring Ai!"

"EH?" he revolved and found a tearful Ai being embraced by a very protective Mako. "H-h-hey, I didn't mean a thing. You're not a dead weight. Promise!"

"B-but you said we'll be facing real soldiers soon…"

"Don't worry, Ai," comforted Mako. "We'll survive this. We will. We will. Believe in our dad. Believe in Taichi…"

"We'll win." He looked at the black imp."Right, Impmon?"

"Impmon?" Ai tiptoed, watching Impmon disappear into the clouds of smoke.

"I can't let Falcomon have all the fun, you two! See ya later!"

"IMPMON!" yelled Mako.

Silence was the only response. Not even gunshots. Aside from all the fighting coming from both Falcomon and her dad's sides of the battle, there was no indication of Impmon encountering the DSI guardsmen at all. _Is he okay? _Thought Ai, somewhat worried. Mako was tempted to go in after the little imp, but Ai held onto her brother strongly, refusing to let him leave. "Don't leave us..." she said. Ai glanced at Hiro, who was struggling with the intense pain. Anathesia was already applied, yet even that failed to assuage his personal torment. Being alone with someone like that and worse, someone who was in no position to defend her was a scary thought.

"I won't, Ai," reassured Mako. "I'll be here. Those DSI guys won't lay a finger—"

"This is my lucky day!"

It was a new voice. Ai's eyes dilated, watching a DSI guardsman coming in from the smoke. Possessing no shield, Ai figured he came from Falcomon's side. _W-w-what, what happened to Falcomon? _

"That effin' bird's one hell of a problem." He cocked his submachinegun. "That'll all end when I kill you two. Take out the tamer, and you take out the monster."

Hirofumi's voice thundered in her ears. "Ai! Mako! Get away—" Hiro was shot in the head. He fell, dead, eyes completely white.

Ai stifled her scream. "Eep!"

"Your turn." Ai and Mako watched the guardsman slowly pull the trigger. They couldn't do anything but watch… Impmon burst from the smoke with a sphere of flames gyrating in his hands.

"Hehe, me first!" Impmon tossed the sphere towards the guardsman, who dodged in the nick of time. The fiery sphere flew past him, striking the far wall, dispersing at once. However, the imp did not relent, summoning a small orb of fire while swiping at the guard with his claws. "NIGHT OF FIRE!"

The guard tried to block the attack with his SMG, but, that's exactly what Impmon wanted. "Idiot," Ai heard him mutter, watching his claws go through the gun and destroy it, his fireball melting the components and singeing the DSI guard's uniform. Impmon leapt at the man, extending his foot for one solid kick on the face.

Shick. A combat knife was drawn from its sheath. The guardsman deftly avoided the kick, tilting his head. Impmon flew straight into his shoulder, falling down face-first. "Oof!" The guard recovered quickly, throwing his knife straight into Impmon's arm, pinning him down on the concrete.

"Impmon!" hollered Ai. Even if the digimon had the strength and pain tolerance to remove the knife and get back up, by that time it would be too late. The guard brandished his M9 pistol and took aim.

"God…effin'," cursed Impmon, pulling out the knife, almost fainting from the extraction. "Dammit!"

Ai remained silent, too terrified to even scream. Her mouth was agape, eyes darting from the gun to Hiro's dead body. She recalled the agony in his eyes, and the sheer effortlessness it took to kill his dad's friend. Ai closed her eyes tight, bracing herself. _Someone help! PLEASE!_

"I'LL PROTECT YOU, AI!" she overheard Mako, shoving her to the floor. She felt his trembling hands. "I PROMISED—"

Gunshots burst.

* * *

Falcomon expected intense pain to hit him a split-second before the moment of death. Three seconds passed, and the gunfire was relentless, ringing in his honed ears. Feeling no pain, the owl digimon opened his eyes, seeing Mrs. Kurosawa shooting at the other seven, drawing their attention. Accuracy was more-or-less guaranteed from the way she skillfully aimed down her M240 LMG's iron sights, clear indication of how much she learned from her husband's former military experience—after all, Mr. Kurosawa never hesitated to share his love for firearms with his beloved.

The tall human died with two bullet holes in the forehead. "Falcomon, get up!" ordered Mrs. Kurosawa. "I can't do this alone!" Falcomon watched one of the remaining six remain at a fairly good distance from her and take aim while she was busy handling the others, finding a street light to hide behind.

"I got you!" acknowledged Falcomon, the owl digimon trained his SMG on that guardsman and pull the trigger, strengthening his grip and adapting to the recoil.

"_You're just an ordinary digimon! No partner, no evolutions, no nothing!"_

_How am I so different from you, Impmon? _Falcomon wondered, fighting alongside Mr. Kurosawa's wife. Here he was, fighting alongside his owners as a friend and ally. Wasn't that what partners do? To support their tamers the best they can, even if it meant sacrificing their own lives? How can being a digimon liberated from the DSI's control and separated from his destined child preclude Falcomon from having a partner borne from his own choice?

The digivice wasn't a requirement. The ability to evolve wasn't relevant. _It's the bond!_ _The bond between humans and digimon! _His gun refused to fire. Mrs. Kurosawa had to reload. Only one guardswoman was left, and the first thing she did was aim for Mrs. Kurosawa.

Falcomon was about to hurl his shurikens when he realized it wouldn't do much even if he struck the DSI guard. A bullet, once fired, would rocket in a straight line towards its target for the first hundred or so meters. Directly behind Mrs. Kurosawa was a wall, preventing a retreat. She was too busy reloading to even notice the direct threat. Drawing attention wouldn't do anything about it, and in the end, she would die. It was a scenario Falcomon could not accept.

"UCHITAKE OTOSHI!" Falcomon tossed a couple of bamboo tubes towards Mrs. Kurosawa, or rather, the space in-between her and the guardswoman. They ignited just as the latter's gun shot its deadly bullet, altering the projectile's trajectory in an instant.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Kurosawa had finished reloading, promptly aiming her gun at the last DSI guard. She killed her in one burst shot. "Falcomon. I owe you one."

Falcomon smiled. It was the bond between digimon and humans that produced so much potential to change the outcome of the world. No digivice was necessary. That he and Mrs. Kurosawa together defeated fifteen guardsmen armed with submachineguns was a testament to that fact. "I say we're even. **You** saved me first."

"Knew you'd need help," she chuckled. "The both of us did."

Suddenly, sounds of gunfire interrupted their post-victory respite. It came from **THE ALLEY**.

"Oh my god!" blurted Mrs. Kurosawa. "The kids! And Hiro!" She started for the clouds of smoke, which already began to dissipate. "Falcomon—"

"I know!" responded the owl, cutting her off, diving into the smoke seconds ahead of her.

* * *

Not long after Falcomon separated himself from Tadashi Katou, and Mr. and Mrs. Kurosawa, the three encountered a few guardsmen already entering the cloud of smoke, highly confident their ballistic shields would protect them from whatever the Kurosawas threw at them. It didn't take much to figure out why not all of them entered—it could cause confusion since the smoke severely limited one's visibility.

The distance was far too close to use grenades. To compensate, Mr. Kurosawa had his wife shoot at the top part of the guardsmen's shields, while Tadashi exploited the exposed weakpoints on the legs, shooting them down. Meanwhile, Mr. Kurosawa constantly watched their flanks.

Three guardsmen already fell after a minute. After letting a quarter of a minute pass, he began to speculate that the remaining DSI squads decided to wait out the smoke. If that was the case, that would put them in a terrible position: the guardsmen would anticipate their emergence from the smoke and fire upon any outbound silhouette, knowing full well the comrades going inside had died in combat. But if they let the smoke dissipate, the Kurosawa group would be right back to where it started: disadvantaged.

Thinking of his kids, _Not letting that happen!_ Mr. Kurosawa approached one of the dead bodies in the smoke and picked up the shield, noticing the teenage face of the corpse he just scavenged. _God, the DSI's even manipulating the youth! _ He shook his head in disappointment. _What kind of values is our society running on now? _"Tadashi, grab a shield! We'll be heading out!"

"Junas, dear," verbalized Mrs. Kurosawa. "What about me? What do I do?"

Mr. Kurosawa sighed before pointing towards the opposite direction. "Go and help Falcomon. I'm worried about him."

She protested. "B-but!"

"Don't try that on me," countered Mr. Kurosawa. "You're worried too. Your face is showing it."

His wife gazed towards the ground. "Still, you need me, too…"

Mr. Kurosawa walked to her and gave her a kiss on the lips. "Trust me, Tadashi and I can handle it ourselves."

Mrs. Kurosawa gazed into her husband's eyes one more time before complying with his instruction. Watching her disappear into the other side, Mr. Kurosawa turned to Tadashi and stood by his side, lifting up his shield, inspecting it carefully. "We can use this as makeshift cover," he remarked, noticing the ergonomic design that made it easy to prop up. A bit heavy, the item was tall for a bulletproof shield and allowed virtual full-body protection. Unfortunately, it was lacking in a tactical firing port. The DSI skimped on investments in its security detail, instead plugging all the money it earned into its research and military functions.

"You really sure we can handle them all?"

"We got explosives."

"And if we run out? There isn't much left anyway in my backpack."

"They're a bunch of kids," answered Mr. Kurosawa. "Chances are, they'll be too stupid to notice the weakness in using these shields. Let's go!" He and Tadashi Katou advanced, holding the shields out with one hand, clutching the AK-47 in another.

The limited visibility grew in clarity as they walked towards the edge of the cloudy area. Needless to say, Mr. Kurosawa had made the correct guess, thinking the DSI decided to wait out the smoke and assail anyone who dared to emerge from it. They failed to consider the possibility they—he and Tadashi—would use their own shields against them. _And that will be your downfall, amateurs._

Their arrival was welcomed with a hailstorm of bullets that threatened to topple the makeshift cover, which was barely enough to properly shield two people. To make matters worse, Mr. Kurosawa and Tadashi had to act fast—given enough time, the DSI guardsmen would simply flank them and hit them from the side.

He peeked through the thick bulletproof glass viewport atop the shield, seeing three people moving forward. "Tadashi, three coming in from up front. Hit 'em with a grenade."

"My thoughts exactly." He peeked out and launched the grenade in his AK-47. It landed squarely on one of the three's shields, destroying it completely. The wielder was killed immediately by the blast. Simultaneously, Mr. Kurosawa crouched, peeked out, and opened fire on the guardsmen's exposed feet. He retreated immediately, narrowly avoiding bullets meant for his head. _That was close._

"How many flashbangs do you have?" Tadashi accosted.

"Two. You?"

"Only brought frags." He leaned out and fired upon the DSI in an attempt to stop their approach. "We won't go anywhere with this kind of stalemate."

"I'm open to suggestions!" Mr. Kurosawa noticed the treacherous wobbling his shield was undergoing. The constant gunfire concentrated on their position was enfeebling its ability to protect him. Sooner or later, it would give in and bullets would start penetrating. Worse was the possibility of reinforcements coming in with armor-piercing rounds.

"Hmm... I frag and mow them down." Gesturing Kurosawa next, "_You _flash and cover."

Mr. Kurosawa looked through his viewport—parts of it were already damaged. "Nine," he counted. "Scattered around us. I could see a few trying to get a better angle."

"They **will **if we let this linger." He took out a round fragmentation grenade. "You with me?"

"Yup." Bringing out a flashbang, "I just hope it'll work." He tossed it into a group of three gathering together, side-by-side. "Flashbang out."

"Frag out," murmured Tadashi. He hurled it to a group of four nearby.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

BOOM.

.

Tadashi and Mr. Kurosawa alike popped out of their cover on opposite sides, advancing to their opponents. The latter's targets were down on the ground, writhing from the close proximity of the blast. Some were blinded; others had been severely disoriented from the sound rocking their sense of balance. Mr. Kurosawa opened fire and killed all three.

_Six left._

Tadashi's opponents had at least detected the fragmentation grenade and tried to weasel their way out of their predicament. One guardsman picked it up and tried to throw it back at Katou, only for Tadashi to exploit the split-second opening and fire into his hand. Not only was the limb severed but the grenade also fell to the ground, exploding the moment it touched the asphalt. He died. Another was hit by the shrapnel.

_Four._

Mr. Kurosawa pointed his gun down and sent a three-bullet burst fire on one of the remaining four, forcing him to stop and lower the shield to prevent him from shooting his legs. _Exactly what I want._

Noticing the two men whose legs he shot earlier brandish M9 pistols and aimed at either him or Tadashi, Mr. Kurosawa bestowed no mercy at all and finished them off with two shots to the head. Each. He fired another burst at his target and forced him to stop.

Seeing two guards to his left take aim at him, Mr. Kurosawa turned to them and fired in their direction, forcing them to take cover. He did the same for the guard in front, only to hear a familiar click in his weapon—the AK-47 had run out of ammo. He had to reload, yet there was no time.

Dropping his rifle, he sprinted to the guard's flank, taking out his combat knife. Appearing next to the cowardly guardsman, Mr. Kurosawa stabbed the knife into his side, ripping it out and letting all his entrails fall to the ground in a massive gush of blood, while holding onto the shield to keep it steady. A dead body fell somewhere to his right, but he paid no mind to it, concentrating on the task at hand. He finished off the guard with one stab up the cavity on the neck, knifing the brain directly. _Two. _Letting the carcass fall, Mr. Kurosawa wheeled the shield in front of him just in time to protect himself from two burstfire shots delivered by the two men shooting at him earlier. Both guards suddenly fell, courtesy of Tadashi Katou. _Done._

Backtracking to his rifle, he guessed what happened. Tadashi probably noticed the two survivors' attempt to flank Mr. Kurosawa after running out of ammunition. The immediate response was to hit them from an unexpected angle, killing both at once. Recalling the sound of a body dropping next to him, Mr. Kurosawa turned right, his eyes falling upon the corpse of an unshielded guardsman close to where he had knifed his last kill. To think he was almost killed!

"Did you kill that guy?" accosted Mr. Kurosawa.

"I thought you did," replied Tadashi. Hearing that, he curiously approached the body. Seeing the contents of its skull oozing out of an obscenely large bullet hole right on the forehead made Mr. Kurosawa gasp.

_Only one gun—one digimon—can do this._

The family man stood and looked at a tall building in the far south, overlooking their battlefield. _Renamon._

* * *

Mrs. Kurosawa passed by Falcomon on her hurry to see her kids. It was sensible to think he had already seen the situation, concluding it prudent for the mother to see this scene for itself. However, all thoughts and all senses were blocked out by maternal thought, _Mommy's comin'!_

She was the first person to see what had become of Ai and Mako.

Greeting her was Impmon sitting down, his green eyes inspecting a dead guardsman's body, littered with more than twenty bullet holes. A pool of blood oozed out, flowing towards a little drain on the wall. Mrs. Kurosawa's eyes followed a vertical path until they landed on the sight of Mako holding out a TMP machine pistol. His hands were giving violent quivers. Tears streamed from his terror-stricken eyes. Ai, his sister, was scratching her butt, having been viciously shoved to the ground.

"I, I killed him. I k-k-killed, k-killed s-s-s-s-s-someone…"

"Looks like someone finally grew a pair of balls," she heard Impmon sneer. The urge to slap him disappeared when the sound of someone else—Falcomon. Who else could it be?—doing it for her was heard.

Mrs. Kurosawa jogged to her son, placing her gentle hands on both Mako's gun and his shoulders, comforting him with soothing words.

"B-but I, I promised," he stuttered. "I promised I'd protect , protect Ai…"

"Everything's okay now," his mother declared, letting her warm voice caress her son's ears. "It's all okay. You did great. Ai's safe. You can put the gun down, Mako. We're still—" Mako Kurosawa glomped her, tickling his mother's nose with his hazel hair. Ai hugged her too. Mrs. Kurosawa herself began to cry.

She had seen the hole on Hirofumi's forehead.

About a minute passed when Impmon's voice broke the emotions governing the moment. "When do **I** get some credit here?" he grumbled. "Those two wouldn't be alive now if it weren't for me."

"Don't you even have manners?" Falcomon was about to hit him again for rudely intruding into this tender scene when Mrs. Kurosawa halted his advance.

"Wait." She looked at the melted parts of the dead guardsman's submachinegun, eyeing the charred parts of his battle dress. Farther back the alley was a scorch mark from a rather strong flame attack. Indeed, Impmon had played a part in this battle. There was no denying it.

Mrs. Kurosawa clutched Impmon's sides and lifted him up, staring into his green eyes. After a moment of silence, the tamers' mother brought the imp to her body in a tight embrace. "Thank you!" she said, smiling all the time.

Had she kept her eyes open, she would've noticed Impmon's face planted right in the middle of her breasts. Had she noticed that, she would've pulled him out and find him blushing, **and drooling** from this perverted experience. Had she discovered that, Mrs. Kurosawa would've gave him a slap-happy beating.

The punishment awaiting Impmon was worse. With her eyes fully closed, grateful for the fact her children were still alive, Mrs. Kurosawa kept hugging the black imp until her husband's voice shattered the air. "IMPMOOOOONNN!"

Apparently he had seen everything, from drool and blushing to slow left-and-right pans deliberately performed for maximizing this one-of-a-kind, firsthand feel.

* * *

"Intervention complete."

Rika Nonaka was pleased with the overall progress of the operation. So far, everything had been working perfectly to the Digidestined's favor. Though there were, regrettably, some fatalities for both Urameshi's and Kurosawa's platoons, further damage was stunted by the role her snipers played in the first two stages of the operation. Renamon and her sharpshooting skills played a huge part in this preservation, as it not only saved Kurosawa's squad, but also prevented external forces coming in from the rear.

How many times has Renamon intervened, destroying SAT vehicles with carefully-aimed precision strikes? How many times has she intervened, killing off DSI guardsmen pinning down or even about to gun down one of Rika's friends? Conservation of ammunition was performed sufficiently, as Renamon used both anti-materiel and anti-personnel rounds for her custom-made CheyTac Intervention.

It was already thirty minutes past midnight, and the Digidestined had made significant progress. Yuuko reported the destruction of the fourth nexus, and were rallying to the fifth. One of her squads, guarded by a team of snipers, watched the back around the third nexus's area. Meanwhile, Junas Kurosawa had finally reached his secondary convergence point. Though one squad was completely destroyed (apparently some amateur lucked out by shooting the squad assist's backpack while it was still filled with explosives), the other three were carefully preserved by both the snipers and the digimon on his platoon. Since their reunion, they have destroyed multiple nexi and were also progressing to the fifth levels, arguably matching Yuuko's performance.

Close to the center of the DSI headquarters, the third phase of Operation: Pyramid was about to begin. _Give or take ten minutes_, mused Rika.

She pressed a button on her earpiece. "Taichi, what's your status?"

"Still en route." Rika peered down at her turquoise, rectangular digivice and found Taichi and his platoon's cursors slowly traveling north, in-between Yuuko's and Junas's paths.

"You better hurry," she said nonchalantly. "The third phase won't begin without you."

"Don't push me so hard," Taichi requested. "It's really hard finding the right way. We've strayed three times already."

Brushing her red hair, Rika was quick to dismiss him. "Keep in mind the longer we defer the third phase, the more trouble we'll end up in."

"I know. Stop repeating yourself. This is already the fifth time—"

"Seventh."

"…argh."

Rika Nonaka did not see Renamon's ears twitch. "You've got ten minutes, Taichi."

"You sure about that?"

"Impossible," Renamon articulated. Was she beginning to worry? "It can't be…"

"It's a rough estimate." The yellow fox was now uttering her name, ears twitching, eyes darting from place to place. _That's weird. _"Wait. Got to go. Renamon's acting funny."

Hands on her hips, Rika glared at her partner. "Get a hold of yourself."

"We have to get out of here," she uttered, grasping her tamer's arm after slinging the Intervention over her shoulders.

"Why?" Rika questioned, skeptical. She brushed off Renamon's hand. This building was a crucial observation and sniping point. "Renamon, we've got a good view; we're almost 500 meters from the perimeter." Rika glanced at the other members of her squad. "**Their** digimon haven't heard a thing. We're definitely not in any danger h—"

Renamon suddenly tackled her on the spot, frantic and panicky.

* * *

"Ten minutes, huh?"

Taichi Yagami, clothed in his Chrome Digizoid-laced cloak, was leading his entire platoon through the sewers running underneath Shinjuku. Traveling unseen, they faced no risk of encountering any DSI guardsmen, so long as they weren't detected by still-functional surveillance equipment.

Holding up an LED light attached to his combat vest underneath his cloak, he reviewed a map and stared at a dark, eerie tunnel heading straight. On the map were circles of the security nexi's locations, highlighting the areas that were taken out. Taichi had been updated constantly of Yuuko's and Mr. Kurosawa's movements thanks to Rika. He had practically covered 60% of his intended route now.

The next path was definitely this tunnel. Taichi cringed at the murky water flooding it. Probably a foot deep, he'd prefer finding a path around it. If only he had more than ten minutes! Still, the Child of Courage already wasted a lot of of time making his way to the main convergence point.

At its core, _Pyramid_ was a simple plan. Two platoons would attack the DSI from opposite, adjacent sides, destroying multiple nexi along the way. Rika and her elite team of snipers would spread out and oversee the entire thing, relaying all information to Taichi, who would be leading his platoon and their digimon through the middle, erring on the side of caution by traveling below the streets. The third phase called for every tamer—himself included—evolving their partners to Adults. Humans and digimon would advance and crush any opposition the DSI would muster, moving forward the more nexi are destroyed.

This dramatic step was but one of the many precautions required to fight the multinational organization. Undoubtedly the opponents to be fought at such close proximity to the headquarters were military. Once the third phase begins, Taichi expected no less than real soldiers being deployed to meet a bunch of ragtag individuals with varying amounts of combat experience. The DSI would have vehicles and state-of-the-art weaponry, all designed for war against both monsters and humans. On the other hand, the Digidestined would have only digimon, the tamers, and the owners, along with whatever was brought to the battlefield.

The two-pronged attack at the beginning composed of conventional warfare and participation of child-level digimon served to dilute the limited manpower available to the DSI, without giving too much information about their true fighting ability. The less people there were, the more chances of the Digidestined actually beating the veteran soldiers working for the organization. So long as the DSI had no idea their monsters were already trained enough to evolve to the Adult stage, so long as the Child of Courage's secretive approach bestowed a game-breaking element of surprise, this gamble would fall in the Digidestined's favor.

It was a foolproof plan, thought the Chosen Child. _This won't fail, Hikari. I know it! _

Taichi Yagami took a deep breath, stepping into the murky sewage. The noisome smell burned his nose. It took most of his willpower to even withstand it. The thoughts of victory and the positive impact this operation would have on the world persuaded the Child of Courage to keep moving, to ignore the odor of feces, refuse, and chemicals coalescing in his nostrils, settling in his clothes.

He looked back and told everyone this dreadful passage was the way forward. Taichi saw the disgusted etches on their faces. He ordered them to keep on going, reminding them that they had no way around it, that they had no more time. Taichi watched Agumon, his own partner, slip his orange foot into the pudding-colored sewage and retract it immediately.

"It's so slimy!" he whined. "Disgusting." The Digimon of Courage sniffed his wet foot. "Eew! Veemon _was_ right—no wonder he smelt like **this** for _days_ after that alligator escapade he had with Daisuke years ago."

"Move it, Agumon." Taichi stated. "We're losing time here."

"O, okay, Taichi…" he whimpered, eventually wading into the sewage. The orange dinosaur shuddered when the malodorous fumes went up his nose. "Ugghhh." It sounded like he wanted to vomit. The only thing that stopped him was probably a refusal to contribute to this disgusting liquid, considering that everyone else behind him would have to wade past it. The digimon had it worse since they wore no clothes at all.

Bothering Taichi were the thoughts of slaughtering fellow human beings, committing what would be misconstrued as acts of terrorism, and going against the null hypothesis in the most desperate manner possible. Yet he pushed them far into the recesses of his mind as he maintained his pace, eyes on the map, hands on the flashlight, and completely alert. The Chosen Child led his platoon to what he believed were the beginnings of a changed world. To that end, everything else were secondary.

"_For the greater good we must persevere. Only when we have truly made an impact on the world can we begin a journey of atonement and reconciliation."_

_._

_._

_._

_The Digidestined have attacked! Operation: Pyramid is underway and everything is proceeding smoothly. Or so it seems. Will Taichi's "foolproof strategy" bear fruit? Or will it reap tragedy as Hikari's dreams predicted?_

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

4. If you're paying attention on the very last segment, Agumon mentioned Veemon having an "alligator escapade" with Daisuke. This is a direct allusion to a hilarious fanfic written by the user Circeus. The title's _Cryptozoology_. Sadly, it is an unfinished work, and apparently the author has discontinued the story, with the last update being four years ago. D: Nonetheless, it still makes a good read.

5. The characters I'm deciding to keep are actually Rika & Renamon. I was thinking of an OC (like Junas and Yuuko), but this time I wanted to put in another Tamers' reference. I don't know if using both of them are appropriate, but I did manage to weave in a backstory and a basic plot without altering the major storyline. Though in the end, they're just supporting characters. I'm also questioning my ability to portray them correctly, so if you have problems with the way I wrote Rika/Renamon, notify me via PM or review. :)

6. Just for reference, here are the weapons being used by the DSI Guardsmen and Digidestined. You can look 'em all up in Wikipedia if you want.

- M9 Pistol with extended magazine (DSI)

- unnamed SMG with iron sights (DSI)

- M240 LMG with grip (Digidestined automatic riflemen, incl. Yuuko Urameshi)

- AK-47 with grenade launcher attachment (Digidestined riflemen/team leaders, incl. Taichi)

- P90 SMG (Yuuko's sidearm)

- Glock 26 (Most sidearms held by the Digidestined. Taichi uses a Desert Eagle instead)

- M21 EBR semi-automatic sniper rifles fitted with ACOG Scopes and Silencers (Rika and her sniper squads)

- Very large CheyTac Intervention bolt-action sniper rifle with silencer. Uses custom-made bullets based on the Raufoss Mk.211 multipurpose anti-materiel ammunition (Renamon)

- All parties have combat knives. The Digidestined are equipped with Flashbang / fragmentation grenades.

7. Responses to reviews:

**Lord Pata:** As usual, you homed in on anything related to that famous love triangle between Tailmon, V-Mon, and Patamon. That twist simply reflects how I feel about it. IMHO, given his personality and the way he tends to think (I derived his character via canon episodes, a V-Tamer special, the movie, and... a few fanfics) lends some credibility to the thought of him being content with life as he had it, sharing it with his partner Daisuke.

Besides, there really are people who look at it that way. I've met some friends who weren't (and still aren't) looking for a relationship at all. "Live life to the fullest", seeking everything out. That's their motto. ^^

**Rets:** Thanks for pointing it out. As you guessed, it was a typo. Already corrected it. Even though I do my own proofreading, every once in a while stuff simply escape my eyes...

**TaichiZeromaru: **I'm just curious, but what bothers you about the way I handled Taichi's character? You can gleam from the narrative that severe stress on the personal, professional, and political levels are so bad he turned out that way, such that it won't be surprising even someone like him would resort to something as desperate as _Operation: Pyramid_. Or were you rather annoyed with how I had him take out his own sister with a sudden strike to the solar plexus?

At any rate, I can't change him now. Taichi's actions were already set in the original storyline anyway. As for how I wrote the battle scene, I took your advice to heart and asked one of my friends for advice, who suggested approaching it from the macro-perspective, diving into micro whenever needed. Oh, and if you haven't noticed, Taichi's costume in this story kinda mirrors his clothes in V-Tamer (cloak + blue shirt + goggles XD).

Thanks for the review. BTW, as for that part where you said my writing has no flaws... you're wrong there. Everytime I reread my chapters word for word, I notice a lot of errors that I should correct but don't because it's passable, and because I'd prefer concentrating on work after posting the chapter. By work, I mean financial analysis and (for the moment) studying Mandarin. ^^


	12. The Butterfly Effect (Part I)

**Pre-chapter author's notes**:

[1] Word count is 12, 375 words on Microsoft Office.

[2] I've decided to split _The Butterfly Effect_ into two chapters because it will be too effing long if I include everything! More on that on the post-chapter author's notes.

[3] Sorry if it took me long to update. I was not only having a vacation, but I was also (and still am) struggling with employment. I finally relocated to the US, and it couldn't come at a worse time, when so many people are competing for work.

[4] When you're reading the battle part of the chapter, you may want to listen to music from _One Piece_ such as _Karakuri Defense System, Deploy_ or _Karakuri Defense System, Activate_. Also check out XRay Dog's _Army of Doom_. All these can be found on Youtube. Hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

By the way, B.D.U. stands for "Battle Dress Uniforms". And if you cannot recall, "SCAI" is an acronym for "Self-conscious Artificial Intelligence", which is the scientific name for a digital monster. I pretty much retconned some earlier facts from the previous chapters (e.g. "Autonomous Artificial Intelligence" as the scientific name for digimon). ^^

* * *

Although his endurance, stamina, strength, and dexterity all surpassed human limits by a significant degree, Christopher Van Numen was **still** human, but only to an extent. Whether it came from time spent fleeing and fighting, or time spent walking and having fun, exhaustion was inevitable. Recreational fatigue may have been different from combat exhaustion, but in the end, it all boiled down to the fact sleep could make everything feel so much better.

Veemon was the best example of that. The blue dragon was snoozing, resting his head on Chris's shoulder. His three-foot body was secured by the arms wrapped tightly around the blond's neck. To warm his dangling feet, the Chosen, in his deep slumber, had stowed them in the blond's vest pockets. Chris's hands occupied the small, sheltered space as well, and the three-toed encroachers were a discomfort, not to mention dirty and probably carrying a thick, cheesy odor from all the walking they did that afternoon.

Preferring to remain in their private pouch rather than hang loosely in the air, the blond's hands accommodated this unconscious intrusion without putting up any resistance, its owner unaware they welcomed their new companions and gave them a rather comfortable massage. Veemon was not disturbed by this. Judging from the gratified mumbling his resting muzzle hummed, he probably found it relaxing. Enjoyable, even. His sleeping body dug his toes deeper into the pocket, wanting more.

Christopher, in contrast, was not as pleased. Neither was he as relaxed and happy. Wandering around Odaiba in the middle of the night just sucked. Worse, walking alone was instilling a desire to sleep. Veemon's still form did nothing to help him resist this desire. But Chris inhaled and rejected the temptation to find a spot and sleep there. For once he had money, and therefore, easy access to a comfortable bed. It seemed so wrong to opt for something as primitive as a tree, or a bench in the park.

Unfortunately, the bastard called "company policy" had so far obstructed the blond's quest for a good night's sleep. Christopher made a beeline first for the international hotels, those large ones catering to foreigners and local tourists from cities far from the Tokyo metropolis.

In one of these posh establishments, with Veemon still snoozing so contently on his back—_why am I the one always walking?_ He grumbled enviously—through a revolving door. Upon entry the front desk was empty. In fact, the entire lobby **was** empty. Nobody came in to service him, nobody but one clerk working a night shift.

Before the blond could even ask if they had a room for the night, the clerk preempted him. "Check-in time runs from 11 AM to 3 PM everyday," she stated matter-of-factly. "Sorry, but we don't accept guests beyond this unless they have a reservation." She took out a small piece of paper, obviously a list of names. "Do you have a reservation with us, sir?"

Chris went out not long after. The next two big hotels gave him the same line, though not exactly word for word. When he chose to ponder on it, why _would_ he go after multinationals like _Holiday Inn_ or _Crowne_ _Plaza_? It was certain the money Ken lent them would run out just after one night in an establishment like this.

This random thought led Chris to roll his eyes towards Veemon. This blue dragon **was** the reason. Keeping the day's events in mind, the blond guessed digimon were given better treatment in the larger, more successful, yet more bureaucratic hotels, which were more considerate on the issue of "pets" than the local ones were. Veemon, as far as the entire world was concerned, was Christopher's pet. The digimon hated this label. Hell, Chris didn't t like it either. _But I can't do anything about this. _At least, not without generating unnecessary commotions.

Soon, the search among big hotels became futile. Chris thus turned his attention towards the smaller, more humble places to sleep. He found one, and was about to enter when he noticed his right shoulder and its general area were getting a little wet. He groaned. Chris wiped off some excess drool and closed Veemon's open mouth, slightly annoyed. He had already lost count of how many times he's done this in his sleep. _I __**really**__ wonder how that Daisuke could live with __**this**__. _

Veemon and this Daisuke were apparently really tight. After all, they've been sleeping together on the same bed for more than five years. _Seriously_, pondered Chris, _just how could he stand Vee's childishness? And all this drooling!_

Stowing the irked thought away into the recesses of his mind—obviously stemming from his unsatiated desire for sleep—Chris entered the hotel, only to be pointed out the door the second he came in.

The reason?

The business owner was there, checking the books, performing her bookkeeping duties, and analyzing the financial statements to date. When she saw Christopher come in with Veemon on his back, the first thing that came straight out her mouth was an expletive. "We don't service SCAI's. Those hideous things make a complete mess of our rooms worse than _real animals_. I don't care if you'll leave it outside. Take your business somewhere else!"

She whipped her arm towards the door. "**GET, OUT.**"

Chris briskly left the place, glimpsing her rigid index finger. The woman was entitled to her opinion, sure, but did she have to shout like that? _Guess there are people who hate digimon with a passion. _

The next few hotels were just as hostile, driving Chris's business away with cold, corporate policies. That they used the derogatory SCAI—society's acronym for the digital monsters—was implicative of the glacial stance towards them. One place actually refused to let Chris in because they didn't allow pets on their premises. Chris wanted to argue that Veemon wasn't a pet, that he was a good friend. But why bother? They wouldn't listen, anyway.

Two hours passed. Chris found another hotel, just a block away. It looked relatively decent and, judging by the pictures on the outside signage, seemed pretty comfortable. Check-in time was anytime, and the rooms were spacious enough for double beds. It was perfect! Chris went in, buoyant at this promising prospect.

His goldenrod eyes spied the clerk. Accosting the sleepy-looking man, he grabbed one of the choco-mint candies sitting by the man's computer. "Hi, I'm looking for a room…"

"Do you have a reservation with us?"

The blond shook his head. "No. But the sign outside says I can check-in anytime."

He nodded. "What kind of room do you want? We have a superior, a—"

"Just a regular." Chris cut him off. "With double beds."

"Mmmmhm."

"Oh, I forgot: how much is it?"

"For how long?"

"One night."

The sleepy clerk gave him a very competitive quotation. Chris was delighted. "Great!" After proceeding through the formalities of registering in the guest list and tendering the payment, "Can I have the key please?"

Before the clerk could finalize the transaction and hand it over to Christopher he finally noticed the blue digimon sleeping on his back. It was funny how he never noticed a second, dragonic head resting on this customer's shoulder.

What he said next wasn't. "Is that your SCAI?"

"Huh? SCAI?" Chris blinked. The clerk was gazing at Veemon. "Oh, you mean Vee? Yeah, he's with me. We'll both sleep in my room."

The clerk apologized. "Mr…. Van Numen, was it? I'm sorry, but hotel policy mandates that all pets have to be kept here on the ground floor in designated living spaces…"

Moaning out of exasperation, "Not again… look, Vee's not some pet."

Chris heard him heave a sad sigh, like this conversation was fairly common. "Management considers as pets **all accompanying animals**. That includes SCAI's."

"Can't you make an exception for this one?"

"Only if it's a service animal."

Adamant in getting his way, another wad of cash was taken out of Ken's wallet. "Would you change your mind if I—"

The clerk put his hand on Chris's. The lack of indoor heating made it cold. Very cold. "I don't accept bribes," he whispered. "Besides, we're being monitored by security cameras. Your SCAI's obviously not for service."

He scowled at the clerk, making him tremble. Chris retrieved the money that would've been the payment for the night. "And your hotel just lost one good customer."

Chris turned towards the door. Before he could walk away, the clerk murmured, his voice so low only Christopher heard it. "I'm sorry 'bout that. Management's strict on this. I just don't want to lose my job. Look, if you need a place to sleep, I can help you."

Piqued, the blond averted his gaze towards him, slowly. "I'm listening."

"The closest place isn't far. Just three blocks to the left, and then a couple more to the right. There's a motel there that allows guests to bring pets into their room." He took out a piece of paper and drew some landmarks, giving further directions. _How nice of him._

Handing the paper over, "I don't think you'll like the place, but at this time of the night it's the best bet you've got in Odaiba. All the others either hate SCAI or cage them in the lobby."

"You said it," pouted Chris. "Why're you helping us, anyway?"

He rubbed his hands, breathing some heat into it. "Weeeelll, I have a SCAI back home." He pointed at Veemon. "The triband's M.M. just like yours. It's the closest to having a real partner, so I can relate with you wanting to keep Veemon by your side. If it wasn't for the management here, I'd bring mine—"

Chris interrupted him, nudging Veemon's head. "How'd you know his name?"

The clerk made an amused smirk. "You have a Veemon and you don't even know how popular it is?" His tone became more casual. "Any idiot who's ever watched _Zero Two _would know."

"Zero… Two? What does some TV show have to do with—"

A cough. "You know, Digimon Adventure Zero Two? _Digimon Adventure_'s a non-fiction animation of the Chosen Children's quest to save two worlds from evil." That explanation alone made Christopher realize he was talking to a big fan. An _otaku_. The man's relaxed voice underscored the management's suppression of his favorite subject. "Zero Two's the second half when Daisuke Motomiya led the second generation of Chosen Children—"

"…and Veemon's his partner…" murmured Christopher. _Didn't know they were __**that**__ famous._

The clerk heard him clearly. "That's right."

He hummed. "Now that you mention it, I'm actually surprised you **have** a Veemon. I've always thought Daisuke's partner was the only one of its kind—even the DSI thinks so." He leaned closer towards Chris, shooting a glance at the sleeping dragon, his voice even softer. "Mind telling me where you bought it? My daughter's in love with the adorable little guy."

Chris shook his head. "Sorry," came the retort. "I'm not the one who bought him."

"Oh." He looked downcast. "That's a shame."

"I should go."

"Good luck finding a place to sleep, then." Chris, as he sauntered out, listened to the clerk slumping down on a chair, mumbling. "Wow, it _is _cute. No wonder she wanted a Veemon so much. I wonder where that man got one…" The clerk shuddered, thinking about the cost.

With directions in hand, Christopher Van Numen walked out of the hotel and bore left, traversing three blocks. Three _long_ blocks. The roads were empty. The sidewalks were devoid of people. Chris's sharp ears could hear gunshots and explosions coming from the far north. He ignored it. _Probably a gangfight_, he thought.

.

.

A spacious courtyard greeted Chris upon arrival. Complete with a flowing fountain. Surrounding it was a virtual square composed of multiple two-level rooms. The ground level was **always** a garage that had a narrow, white door beside it. Obviously locked. Directly above it was a window sheltered in curtains so thick and dark in color you wouldn't see a silhouette even if there was a person right behind it.

Though the place was, like the rest of Odaiba, dead and deserted, Chris found a small, brightly-lit office. Somebody was inside, reading a local newspaper. Trying to read it when he could decipher the characters using his 20/20 vision was futile: only Veemon could read Japanese.

When Chris opened the glass door and entered the office, the clerk greeted him with an unfriendly "What do you want?" That the man never bothered putting the newspaper aside just to look at him spoke plenty about his attitude for the job.

"A room for two."

Christopher watched the man open the drawer next to him and fumbled for the keys, apparently relying on peripheral sight. In less than fifteen seconds the man tossed him a key. "You pay when you check out."

"Do the rooms come with double beds?"

"You just get what you see."

"What was _that _supposed to mean?"

He heard the clerk growl a miffed groan. "What a stupid question!" He slammed his newspaper down on his desk. "If you don't like what you see, you can just get the fuc"—his eyes fell upon Veemon. The man fell silent. "Oh, so you're one of _them_."

"What…?"

"Return that key." Chris tossed it back. "That's a one-man, solo room. I'm giving you a room just for people like you," he said, fumbling around the drawer. The clerk was grumbling, loud enough for Chris to barely hear it. "Why're we always getting these retarded sickos? Honestly, what do they see in those monsters? I can't picture myself in a fursuit screwing one of 'em no matter how cute it was."

"HEY!" the blond yelled, his goldenrod eyes making eye contact with him. "We're only here to sleep!"

"That's what they aaalllll say," he threw another key at Christopher, unfazed by the fierce stare, much to Chris's surprise. "You're here to sleep, all right… WITH EACH OTHER."

The blond cursed and turned around, walking out. "Asshole," flapped his mouth, spoken at a volume easily heard by the unfriendly clerk.

His response: "Damn furry."

Christopher ignored this gross insult, having no idea what it meant. Asking about it would've led to an ugly argument, and might actually make him **kill** the effing clerk out of frustration, he left. One look at the key and he knew they were sleeping in Unit 23 tonight.

All the thoughts of basking in the sweet embrace of slumber were broken when the inconsiderate clerk's disembodied voice resonated in Chris's mind, frustrating him even more. _Sick bastard. Just because Vee's with me, he thinks I'm... I'm into..._

"Hey, Chris?" Veemon's sleepy voice funneled into his ears. "Did something happen back there?" He yawned. "You look pissed." The Chosen gave a tired laugh or two.

"The clerk's a big jerk," admitted Christopher. "He thinks we'll be sleeping with each other!" He snarled, grumbling. "I ought to kill that…"

"Eh?" wondered the dragon. "What's there to be mad about?" he asked innocently. "We _are_ sleeping together, aren't we?"

Chris stopped in front of Unit 23's garage door, turned his head, and glared at Veemon. "Vee, you've been living with a teenager for **seven** **years**. Didn't Daisuke ever bother teaching you about sex?"

"Duh!" Then he blushed, recalling something he probably wanted to forget. Obviously embarrassing. "Daisuke, err, taught me a lot of things back then. Yeah." Awkward laughter. "Ahahaha...ha. But, uhm, Chriiisss, what's that got to do with us?"

Slapping his own face, Chris groaned._ Childish and a bit dense. Just perfect. _"Nothing, nothing." He plunged the key into the door next to the garage and opened it, leading into a dimly-lit space large enough to fit a luxury car. "I'll tell you in the morning."

Veemon yawned. "'Kay," he mumbled, his disinterest taken with relief.

Christopher was surprised to find the room aesthetically appealing. One would expect from a sleazy-looking motel something more… unkempt. In a freak twist of fate, it was also Chris's first time in a place like this—in his opinion, only people who had glaring holes in their morality, ethical and sexual, would visit these seedy motels. The blond stifled a chuckle, remembering something about the space pirate he used to travel with.

Upon entering the garage, he went up the narrow flight of stairs. A door, dull white, greeted the blond. It was unlocked. Entering, he found a narrow hallway about one yard in length. The next door (also white) was locked. Using the key given to him by the irate, discriminating clerk, Christopher entered the room. The first thing he found was a dark blue curtain concealing the world outside, so thick it'd absorb all light passing through it.

His feet noticed the soft carpeting, blanketing the floor with a warm hazel. The walls of the bedroom—about 100 sq. ft. in area—had a serene scarlet cascading down from the ceiling down. Chris noticed the sleek air-conditioner directly above the room to the bathroom. As he took off his boots, the blond found a small television to his left, propped beside a work desk.

He found the room's fluorescent lighting (though they emitted a tungsten-colored light) apt for the room, and thought, _This place doesn't look so bad after all._

Opposite the TV was a king-sized bed covered in brown sheets. It had four pillows. Two bedside tables stood by its sides. As Chris set the sleepy (or had he dozed off again?) dragon down on the bed, he realized: _only one bed?_

Wanting some _proper_ customer service, the blond left the Chosen in this room and jogged back to the small office, frowning a bit, only to find the unsociable bastard gone, his newspapers set down on the desk, and a small sign acting as paper weight. Upon closer inspection, Chris fumed at the content: "You get what you see."

His eyes rolled down to a small postscript hastily scribbled in messy handwriting, one Chris deciphered in ten seconds: "To the furry staying with us tonight, if you need fursuits, they're in the back."

It was difficult to ignore the rising steam bubbling in his head, to do away with the bloodlust gathering in his teeth. Still, Christopher managed to do it. Calming himself down, he figured his short temper was a function of a strong desire for sleep and the maddening search for a place to settle down in. The man went back to Unit 23, wondering how he and Veemon could split the bed.

Speaking of the blue dragon, the Chosen had woken up for a few moments, not long after Chris left. He set the air-conditioning on low cool, shut most of the lights, and baptized the bed by finding a nice, comfortable spot under the sheets in the very middle. Veemon must've trusted Chris to come back—he didn't leave the room looking for him.

Well, that was merely speculation. An inference made after the blond arrived, still irked. Veemon's crimson eyes gazed at him inquisitively, showing some concern. "Where'd you go?"

"I wanted an extra bed." A straightforward response.

"Chris, leave it alone," proposed the blue dragon. "Let's just sleep already." He yawned again after giving him a puzzled stare. "Why do you want one so _badly_? We don't need another bed. **This** one's rrreeaalllyyy comfort…able…" his voice trailed; the digimon rolled to his side, shutting his eyes. "Mmm…" Then he was gone. Deadweight.

Veemon was right. All the previous establishments he'd gone to were unacceptable, not with their inflexible bureaucracy and discriminatory policies. The notion of going back out there was becoming less and less attractive the more Christopher put some thought into it. He ogled Veemon. He sighed when he noticed how relaxed the dragon was after a long day touring what they could. They both knew they'd have to get back to business by tomorrow, so everything that had to be seen, that he wanted to revisit, was marked off the mental checklist.

_Nothing I can do about it now that we're here_.

Accepting the ending to the hours they spent roaming the Tokyo Metropolis, the blond gave his vest and pants a light tap. His eyes glowed for each one, prompting said clothing to dissolve into molecules absorbed by the Realm Scanner, digitized and ready to "print" them back on his body at will. He gave the gauntlet one awed glance. This vambrace must **never** be taken for granted. How many times had it saved his life from a terrible wound? How many times had it facilitated escape from the most perilous situations? How many times had this miraculous machine made his journey easier, assured communication with everyone he's ever met?

Chris' precious staff, white and pristine, was laid to rest next to the wall, within his reach. Left with only his undershirt and boxers, the man slipped into the far side of the bed, facing the wall. It felt good, not having some piece of armor on him. If it wasn't for the Ultimate Shield eternally clasped to his left arm, Christopher Van Numen could have sworn he was a teenager again. A young, innocent boy, back in his home universe, in his own house, his head resting on soft pillows carrying the relaxing scent of fresh down. Oh, the bed was **so **comfy.

It was so easy to forget everything he had gone through, to banish the chilling horrors he himself experienced—the execrable sins he knowingly committed—from his conscious. He might have been successful, too, if the sleeping dragon on the other side did not snuggle against his back. The digimon's soft, leathery body cuddled closer and gave Chris a tight bear hug. The unfriendly clerk's mockery echoed in the blond's ears, and for a second, he entertained the idea of pushing the Chosen away.

It didn't hold for too long. He decided against it. They've been friends long enough. For all he knew, Veemon could still sense his unease while asleep and was simply responding to Christopher's desire to forget. A touching thought. If this was what those Digidestined people were trying to preserve in this corrupt society, he couldn't blame them. How would life be like back at home, if they had something just like digimon back there? If they had a lifelong companion from childhood and up, a second shadow of sorts? How would they even look like?

The goldenrod eyes eventually closed. Soon, he too, fell asleep. His last thoughts free from the hardships of his journey. From the stress of his fate.

* * *

One second. That's all it took.

Rika resisted Renamon's insistence to move away, believing in the apparent safety of their perch. They were beyond the DSI's security perimeter. Far from it. The long-range fire support they gave was not enough for either the SAT or DSI to pinpoint their exact location. Nonaka sent fleeting glances on her teammate's digimon, along with the partners of the fireteam on the other building, who she could see from a distance. They weren't fidgeting the way Renamon did.

Before she knew what was happening, the yellow fox tackled her own partner, so suddenly Rika hadn't the time to brace herself. Rage began to build up, only to be abated by high-pitched whistles in the air.

Projectiles struck the railing running across the roof, the very one that separated Rika from a precarious, 100-foot drop, causing sparks.

In one second, Rika realized she would've been hit square in the head had Renamon selected inaction. Rika was stupefied. _We're, we're under attack? __**Here**__? Impossible!_

Renamon rolled the moment she struck the concrete floor, keeping Rika close to her warm, furry body. She raised her left hand, holding it before her chest. Crystal shards, glimmering white as it basked in the moonlight, appeared before her, gathering in a small cloud. When the fox whipped it outward, the cloud of spikes shot towards a small assembly of machinery and pipes on the roof. "KOYOSETSU!"

Rika watched two men bolt away, ducking behind concrete and the roof-access stairs. Their dark blue battle dress uniforms gave them away: DSI soldiers.

.

**Veterans**.

.

Rika, regaining her bearings, pushed herself away from her partner and took cover behind a ventilation shaft, assessing her surroundings. Though the highest vantage point within a hundred meters, the roof of the building was littered with industrial machinery, piping, and steel ventilation shafts. Sitting there on the very middle of the roof, which was wide in terms of area, was the fire escape, albeit the only one that led here. It was locked, a predicament easily addressed by shooting the door open.

Her purple eyes shifted to the right, towards her teammate. She hoped her fellow sniper survived the initial ambush. Sadly, he was dead. His digimon partner had collapsed beside him, completely catatonic. Rika closed her eyes, mentally disbursing her condolences—the two must've had an exceptionally strong bond for that digimon to have died that way.

She caught another pair of veterans shuffling in the moonlight, inching their way towards her, when she reopened her eyes. Rika found her voice. "Renamon, what just happened?"

The fox's reply was calm. "I don't know," she admitted. "It's like they teleported. One moment they weren't there; the next, they were. If I had been a second too late…"

"Shut it," snapped Rika. This wasn't the best time for what-if analyses. "This isn't good," she grumbled. Rika Nonaka was up against a squad of DSI veterans. There was no use contacting the others. If she was attacked, by now they were either in a fight for their lives or worse.

She couldn't understand how the DSI found them, or how they got there undetected by Renamon's sharp ears. 'Teleportation' was the only explanation Rika's mind settled for, but the word itself sounded doubtful. Not even digimon can teleport.

_Or could they?_

Something landed next to her leg. She glanced down; panic filled her. A fragmentation grenade. Rika had to move! There was no time to prepare a battle plan. The young lady had to go by instinct. She hated going by instinct.

Rika Nonaka only had four guns in her arsenal: a semi-automatic sniper rifle, an Atchison-Assault 12 full-auto 20-round shotgun, and a pair of TMP Machine Pistols. Her ears picked up Renamon's plea to do something, right here, right now, before the veterans could further exploit their vulnerable position—they had many options for doing so. The sooner they acted, the higher were their chances for survival.

Taking a deep breath, Rika chose the TMP's, brandished them, and leapt out of cover seconds before the frag grenade burst. Simultaneously the yellow fox jumped, her clear, blue eyes gazing straight at the other fireteam making their way across the roof. Renamon rebounded off some machinery, heading for them.

Rika opened fire, ducking behind a large object for cover.

* * *

Renamon closed in, summoning six _Koyosetsu _shards. She grabbed three in each hand and clenched them in between her fingers. With makeshift claws the yellow fox swiped at the nearest DSI veteran, who ducked and attempted to shoot bullets straight into Renamon's gut.

_I'm not __**that**__ open! _The fox instantly sidestepped, swatting the man's arms down and seizing his neck for a choke slam, one strong enough to damage the spine and indefinitely paralyze the soldier from the waist down. Before she could disable her opponent, his teammate ran in, shooting multiple burst shots.

Renamon backed away, summoning another cloud of shards. "KOYOSET—AGH!" Searing pain shot up from her waist. She turned to her attacker—the man she almost slammed—just as he fired another bullet. This time she was ready. Renamon's paws burst into flames, its azure hue indicating the sheer heat they possessed. The yellow fox swiped the air, instantly melting the bullets, somersaulting behind him and going instantly for the kill. "TOUHAKKEN!"

Had Renamon been fighting a grunt or a regular soldier, she would've won this little match. Unfortunately, this was a veteran. His cumulative battle experience manifested in his quick reaction time; he let go of his sidearm, moments before Renamon's paw struck and melted it. He unsheathed a combat knife and slashed, slicing the fox's forearm as she tried to avoid getting a direct hit on her artery. Detecting the pull of a trigger on the side, she bounced forward, barely avoiding gunshots from the veteran's teammate.

While he reloaded, Renamon crossed her arms and amassed floating crystals from oblivion, only to realize there was something wrong with the attack: the materialization rate had dropped significantly, and there were fewer shards hovering before her. The yellow fox unleashed her attack, and was stunned to discover their lower speed and power.

The veteran closed in, knife ready to kill. Renamon bent her legs for a high jump, only to feel physical strain on her legs, as if they had recently undergone a severe exertion of strength. She found it odd. _I've only been fighting for two minutes!_

She tried to flip backwards to avoid a fatal wound from the oncoming enemy, but her leg strength waned, and she fell on the concrete floor, landing on her back. Renamon's blue eyes widened as they perceived the battle-hardened human approach with his dagger.

* * *

Rika wasn't doing well either. The fireteam she engaged were adept at urban combat, taking cover behind the machinery. She leaned on a pipe, recovering some energy, reloading her TMP's.

Watching Renamon a few meters next to her made her worry. The fox was already shot once, and Rika could see signs of exhaustion quickly building up. It was evident in her increasingly sluggish movements, and in the weaker summoning of her attacks.

Rika Nonaka recognized the symptoms. _She's in trouble!_

The young lady bolted out of cover, aiming her TMP's at the fireteam on the other side—as expected, they're about to fire. She beat them in this game of pulling the trigger, unloading a sum of ten bullets on their location.

One duck under cover. The other sidestepped and continued shooting. Rika shot a glance at Renamon and found her on the floor. "RENAMON!" she screamed, holding the trigger, aiming it in the general direction of her digimon partner's opponent. Simultaneously attention was centered on _her_ enemies. Rika's own death would make the rescue of her partner meaningless. The incomprehensible yet rational laws that governed such partnerships made it so.

She sprayed her TMP, emptying the clip. A couple of bullets grazed his hip, causing him to fall. Rika took shelter behind a short cover, kneeling behind it. Her interference planted a bullet in the soldier's arm, causing him to drop the knife. Renamon hastily seized the CheyTac Intervention and aimed it towards the veteran without even looking through the scope. One shot thundered across the roof.

The bullet did not hit its mark, not even grazing him. Yet the forceful blast of its ejection startled the soldier, making him stagger back. Renamon got up and whacked him with the butt of the humongous rifle, summoning ten shards of crystal. It used to be fifty. "KOYOSETSU!"

Ten shards of crytal shot from close range would rip through a human body, even if their speed had decreased greatly. All ten struck the veteran's battle dress. Even Rika believed the soldier died, covered in red, vital body parts malfunctioning.

**Or so they thought**.

To Rika's surprise, the victim escaped with cuts on his uniform. A little blood oozed out—the wounds were shallow. _Lockheed Dispersion Gear!_ "Renamon, on me!" she snapped, rising out of cover, emptying her TMP's clips.

She didn't have time to reload. Trusting Renamon to do her part, Rika switched to her sniper rifle.

* * *

The yellow fox complied, backflipping before she could be flanked. She saw a soldier in full view. Fire support was given, sending the man fleeing from the crystal shards. He ran right into Rika's trap.

Unlike Renamon, the girl needed no assistance from a scope. Not at a relatively short range. The semi-automatic rifle fired four shots at the veteran, striking his neck twice.

Securing a clean kill, Rika retreated to cover. Renamon was right beside her in an instant. "How's your body?" she asked.

"Exhausted," Renamon panted. "Especially after my arms got cut up." She gazed at them now: slash wounds ran across both. The veteran fought well with a knife. "My power weakened too, but I don't know why…"

"They're well-equipped for digimon combat," retorted her partner. "Should've known they'd use fatigue bullets and gear applied with Lockheed dispersion coating."

Among the insidious technology developed by the Digital Suppression Initiative, the fatigue bullets were most crucial to humanity's victories against Adult and Perfect level digimon. These projectiles exaggerated the attrition nature of combat, steadily increasing the amount of energy consumed by the digimon for every action it takes, whether it was movement or an attack. Worse, these bullets' enfeebling nature stacked upon each other. Renamon's exhaustion following the slash wounds meant the DSI's close combat arsenal had the same effects as well. The amount of time for this effect to wear off was unknown. To date, no digimon struck by fatigue weaponry survived to tell the tale, always slain by opportunistic humans before full recovery.

Lockheed dispersion coating, an ingenious development from weapons company Lockheed Martin, worked differently. Rika once told Renamon how that worked: anything made with dispersive abilities exuded micro-digital fields—zones that imposed the Digital World's rules on the three-dimensional reality of the Real World, making it easy for digimon or anything digital to realize, or for people to alter their inner programming with ease—that weakened the potency of all digital attacks, unless they were melee.

"What do we do?"

* * *

Rika considered her options. It's a 3-on-2. One of the veterans couldn't use his arm. Renamon is under fatigue and increased stress thanks to the DSI's weapons. Without the fox on her side, she knew she would've been dead minutes ago. _They weren't called veterans for nothing_

.

The big picture was serious. How many veterans were deployed, or "teleported" as Renamon claimed? How many from her squad survived? Were they also caught, like her dead teammate, completely undetected?

Her thoughts went to Taichi. What if he had been ambushed as well? If not… then there's still a little time to warn him. Something's wrong with _Operation: Pyramid_. Rika Nonaka had a feeling things were going to get worse. A lot worse.

Little did she know the only ones returning to Mt. Fuji were Renamon and herself.

Rika switched back to her TMP's reloading them. Six clips remained. "We're retreating," she said to the fox, eyes fixated on the lone door in the center. "Renamon, cover me."

The digimon nodded. With the full support of her partner, the Digidestined took a deep breath before sprinting out of cover.

* * *

The Chosen Child of Courage spied faint lights from far away, illuminating the dark tunnel slightly. Taichi's, and the rest of the platoon's, legs were submerged in the filthy waters running the Tokyo sewers. Somewhere along the way Taichi had actually seen one long piece of human excrement floating by him as he walked past it, heading for the light.

Ignoring the screams of disgust behind him, Taichi carried on, perceiving faint light in the distance, and what appeared to be a narrow platform elevated slightly above the murky waters. Once the distance was closed the Child of Courage could see a small corridor leading deeper into the sewer. Taichi glanced back, his gaze being met by rather hopeful eyes of people who have grown tired of wading in excrement and other things better left unsaid in this sentence.

Acceding to their unspoken requests, Taichi Yagami led his platoon up the platform and into the corridor, eliciting some joy from his own subordinates. Agumon was wiping his entire lower body on the concrete wall, to the point the tiny dinosaur's stub of a tail was being scraped clean. "Don't **ever** make me do that again, Taichi!" He gave his human half a light slap.

"I can't wait to take an effing bath," murmured a young man next to the Child of Courage, tending to a small, russet digimon. The little creature squirmed when he took hold one of its long ears (which was about the length of and twice as wide as a human arm) with his sleek hands and squeezed the grime out, flicking the disgusting filth back into the water. "How about it, Lopmon?"

"O-o-o-o-o-ow! Yuuji, not too haaarrd!" the tiny rabbit-like digimon whined.

"Sorry," apologized the teen, wiping brown stuff off the three horns forming a triangle on Lopmon's forehead. He sniffed it before flicking it off. "I do **not** want to know what I just smelled."

"Then why'd you sniff it?" snickered his digimon.

Taichi Yagami stopped listening, watching his comrades clean themselves. He was starting to get worried. Checking out the map again with a small LED flashlight, he pinpointed their location as slightly past the midpoint of the radius from the DSI tower to the perimeter. At this point they had to start exercising caution, lest they get caught in a trap. Past investigations **did** reveal underground monitors, after all.

That just proved the DSI's obsession with security and control. However, there _was_ a passage devoid of cameras and monitors, and it led straight into the heart of the subterranean M&A Wing (how can it store all those weapons and combat equipment in the heart of a business & government district otherwise?). Unfortunately, the information was provided by an unknown informant whose identity was never revealed, and in fact, was never heard of since the leak, two details that spoke for the risks involved.

The first ones ready were Yuuji and Lopmon. _As usual_, thought the elder Yagami.

Yuuji shared with Taichi a history of being persecuted for noncomformity while having an undying determination to stand for what's right, even if it cost one's way of life. Yuuji may not be a Chosen Child, but he was a Tamer well-acquianted with the Twelve even before the Mt. Fuji base (or the Digidestined itself) was established, thanks to a common friendship through the late Miyako Inoue.

Whether it came to firearms, digimon, close quarters combat, or even plain camaraderie, the fact remained both Taichi and Yuuji were good friends, friends who lost their loved ones when the Digital Suppression Initiative reared its ugly head.

Eying a corridor nearby, Taichi called Yuuji's attention and told him to gather his squad and take point. Though it brought the platoon north, the tunnel was narrow and short, forcing everyone to travel in rows of two rather than a big group accompanying their own respective squads. It widened later on as it merged with several other paths. Taichi noted ladders heading up to the surface. About three in 80 meters.

Then Yuuji led them straight into a rather large chamber, a derelict one with decrepit machinery clinging to the sides of the walls no longer functioning. The chamber was about 30 feet high, implying just how deep underground they all were. Because it was dimly lit (so dim you could barely see anything), Taichi discerned a second level elevated above the floor, constructed on a sturdy steel platform that ran across the perimeter of the chamber. The Chosen Child could catch a faint silhouette of what looked like stairs on the other side, stopping short of a thick-looking double door.

As the platoon followed Yuuji's squad into the room, Taichi noticed there used to be stairs beside their entrance to, but were destroyed, probably due to some mishap years back. _I wonder what this room was used for_, he thought. Before he could cogitate anymore he found something odd about the way the stairs next to them were broken. It was hard to see but it looked like, _someone torched it off? That isn't right…_

There were four pillars supporting the ceiling. Taichi imagined the place would look like the #4 on a six-sided die from a bird's eye view, given the empty space in the middle. That didn't stop him from recalling the oddity of the stairs. As they approached the center, he bent down, whispering to Agumon. "Something about this room's giving me the creeps. Agumon, what do you think?"

The orange dinosaur never got to respond.

In the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak, Lopmon shrieked. "WE'RE NOT AL—"

Explosions thundered, silencing the digimon's words.

_The rear!_ Taichi noted, watching blasts of fire erupt amongst the platoon's rear guard. Incendiary grenades burst upon hitting the ground, thrown from locations unknown. One squad died instantly. Though the fire—kept alight by chemicals—provided illumination, it wasn't enough to even see the silhouettes of their attackers, especially when the entire platoon **LOST COMPOSURE AND MADE A MAD DASH FOR THE FRONT**. Taichi was shoved aside by inexperienced individuals seeking only self-preservation. Not even the elder Yagami's command to stay strong could hold them back.

Gunshots boomed, their bullets coming in from the front. Bodies were falling, and digimon were disappearing in an instant. Immediately Taichi thought of his friend. "YUUJI!"

Taichi had no time to worry about his comrade. During the ensuing panic, his brown eyes discerned movement among the pillars surrounding them. Then he finally identified the enemy: DSI Veterans clad in their trademark dark blue B.D.U.'s, coming in pairs from the sides!

"AMBUSH! IT'S AN AMBUSH!" yelled the Child of Courage. "WE'RE BEING FLANKED ON ALL SIDES!" Some of the remaining Digidestined had gathered themselves and tried to counterattack, opening fire, but the mass panic clouded their judgment, as their rifle bullets were not striking the opponents.

Taichi Yagami watched in horror as a small, green monkey—a Koemon—leaped in front of a soldier, yelling in pain as the man shot him twice. The sound the weapon produced was distinct, yet easily recognizable. _Shotguns!_ "Agumon!"

"On it, Taichi!" he hawked a ball of flame in his mouth, spitting it towards the soldier. "BABY FLAME!"

Simultaneously the Child of Courage pulled up his cloak's hood, aimed down his AK-47's holographic sights, and returned fire on one fireteam. The man tried to dive for cover, but Taichi's bullets caught him before he could do so. Passing a glance at Agumon's target, he watched his partner's _Baby Flame_ disperse upon contact, barely burning through the veteran's uniform. _Damn they're wearing Lockheed!_

The elder Yagami yelled, "AGUMON! CLOSE QUART—" A bullet struck the side of his head, coming from above. That the hood of his cloak was laced with red chrome digizoid saved him from death yet spared neither his earset nor his head from blunt trauma. It was a massive headache, causing Taichi strain when he tried to catch a glimpse of his attackers: multiple soldiers gathered on the second level, each armed with Belgian FN FAL battle rifles, firing upon his platoon in multiple 3-round bursts. He could already infer the presences of _more_ soldiers from the other side.

They had the height advantage.

.

.

"Calm down and take cover behind the pillars!"

Taichi barely discerned the shape of a man aiming straight at him. He ducked, narrowly avoiding a bullet that would've struck his face. He rolled, stacking next to a pillar. The Child of Courage unloaded several shots on the other side before attempting to peek out and kill the man who almost killed him. Suddenly his gun jammed. "DAMMIT!"

* * *

Lopmon had been unusually attentive the moment the platoon entered the room. There was something strange about the eerie silence blanketing the entire chamber, he thought. How right he was when his long, floppy ears detected movement coming from the front.

The rabbit-like digimon instantly leaped down from his perch on Yuuji's head with a rather strong kick-off. "Lopmon, what're you—" The teen was interrupted by a searing heat from behind, and the platoon's mad dash to go forward. Meanwhile Lopmon spun in place, rapidly increasing his RPM, moving towards Yuuji with every revolution. He slammed into his human half's body, fragile yet protected by combat armor. "PETIT TWISTER!"

It came just in time. As soon as the pair was out of the way gunfire burst from the front, mowing down **his** squad, along with everyone else rushing to the front. They weren't safe yet—a pair of soldiers popped out from behind the pillars, and in the darkness Lopmon could discern their shotguns. The russet rabbit wasn't so keen on firearms, but from how those guns looked he did **not want** to be one of the DSI's targets.

He opened his mouth and cried "BLAZING ICE!" spitting out crytal bolts, only to watch them bounce off the veteran's B.D.U., marginally damaged. "Wha—it can't be!"The soldier was about to pull the trigger when he fell to the floor, dead. Lopmon could see two holes on the man's forehead.

Gazing back, he found his partner standing up, having realized what was happening. Faint wisps of smoke escaped his AK-47; clearly he was the one who shot the soldier. Lopmon couldn't thank him for the assistance since Yuuji seized one of his floppy ears and pulled hard, sparing the Child rabbit from being diced by bullets coming in from above.

"Too many up there!" Yuuji said before rolling, taking Lopmon with him. There were still DSI veterans opening fire from the front.

They had no cover! Hide from the frontline attackers and they get hit by the ones shooting from above. Hide from them and get hit by the latter! There was no escape, unless…

* * *

Taichi Yagami already beat Yuuji to the idea. He aimed at the second level, firing not his AK-47, but its _grenade launcher attachment_. "EAT THIS!" An explosion not only destroyed the railing and caused considerable structural damage to the elevated steel platform, but also killed multiple soldiers camping near it. Another grenade explosion struck the platform while the Chosen Child reloaded.

Yuuji had apparently caught on, and it was only a matter of time before they'd get a fighting chance. "Everyone," he ordered, calling upon what remained of his platoon and the lone sniper squad provided by Rika—it was a miracle they survived, considering they were close to the rear, where the medical squad was (the loss of which is a great tragedy). "Retake the left!"

* * *

Agumon saw his chance when the soldier, about to finish off the dead Koemon's grieving partner, was distracted by grenade explosions on the elevated level above him. The orange dinosaur leaped, his vascular arms, which were proportionate to his body unlike a typical tyrannosarus rex, rearing back for a strong attack.

The soldier never saw it coming. "SHARP CLAW!" Agumon's three-fingered hands, each possessing white claws sharp enough to cut through steel, pierced the veteran's coated BDU. Warm blood gushed from the body, dousing the Digimon of Courage.

His green eyes caught a dog-like shape leaping from behind him. It landed on the elevated platform: a black Doberman pinscher whose scrawny yet muscular body intimidated the soldiers seeing him for only a second. Its crimson eyes gleamed.

"SCHWARTZ STRAHL!" the Dobermon roared, firing a blast of dark energy. His attack struck a fireteam. Though the Lockheed Dispersion Coating applied to their BDU's weakened the potency of all non-melee digital attacks, the Adult's attack was simply too strong. The two veterans were killed.

However, bullets rained upon the Dobermon, who was obviously a liberated digimon (one could see the deactivated black, triband suppressor on his neck, where a silver, spiky collar should be).

Taichi's voice sprung from Agumon's right. "Dobermon! Fall back! They're using fatigue bullets, too!"

As if the liberated digimon heeded his warning, Dobermon jumped away, moments before a frag grenade exploded on the platform and finally made a hole. The black dog landed next to Agumon, who not only saw the multiple bullet wounds on the Adult's body, but also the extreme state of exhaustion he was in. God knows how many bullets he endured; the Digimon of Courage was certain there were enough to completely sap him of energy.

Two more grenades struck the platform; Agumon glanced at the other side and after confirming two veterans up there, hawked up another fireball. "Full charge, BABY FLAME!" Striking the metal underneath their feet, its dispersion was explosive. The pair fell. Their ankles broke upon landing, and they were slain by the Digidestined and their digimon.

* * *

In less than five minutes the Digidestined have seized control over the western (left) side of the chamber, taking cover behind the two pillars. Suppressing fire was great, and the chemical flames blocking their only path of escape was just beginning to flicker. Yuuji knew they had to find a way out as soon as possible.

He spied another tamer cowering behind the pillar, afraid to peek out. His digimon was just as timid, refusing to fight. "Why aren't you fighting? We need your help!"

"I, I, I c-can't," muttered the Tamer, throwing his gun down. Yuuji conjectured the kid's immaturity from the way he hid behind safety. "I'm not c-c-c-cut out for this." He turned to his digimon, who responded he didn't like fighting either, especially when his partner's shaking in fear. "I don't, I don't want to end up like mom and dad…"

"Yuuji!"

He turned and found Taichi Yagami staring at him. "We need to surface! We're heavily outnumbered and we lack cover underground!"

"And what do you propose?"

"Take Tommy over there and gather everyone else who isn't in my squad." His eyes darted towards the dying flames by the rear tunnel. "Lead them through there and up the ladders we passed earlier. We'll cover and follow."

Lopmon protested, "Just let us fight. We're digimon, we can handle it!"

"And for how long, Lopmon?" countered Taichi. "We're still far from the M&A Tower. If we let you guys fight now, you won't be in shape to fight back later, especially when they're already using fatigue bullets…"

His partner remained silent, speechless. Yuuji only asked the elder Yagami one question. "Is this necessary, Taichi?"

Taichi nodded. "I don't know what else the DSI has up their sleeve, Yuuji. We need to conceal our strength as long as we can. Only resort to evolution when you **must**, got it?"

"Got it."

* * *

In moments, Yuuji had gathered the escaping combatants. Including Lopmon and himself, his group was comprised of the frightened tamer and his hesitant digimon, two owners and their digimon, and Dobermon. Taichi had only Agumon, one tamer and her digimon (a colorful bird called Muchomon), two vengeful tamers seeking revenge for their loss, an owner, and one liberated digimon.

All in all there were nine people and eight digimon left over from the entire platoon's count of over 25 people and at least 15 digimon.

The only reason why the soldiers haven't attacked yet is because blitzing them risked evolution. Killing the digimon's human half _before_ it could even react is certainly the most surefire method of dealing with the monsters capable of evolving. _And thanks to their hesitation we can escape!_

"GO-GO-GO!" commanded Taichi, commencing the operation. Agumon and Muchomon took point, delivering plumes of fire to the soldiers gathering above, followed by rifle grenades from both Yagami and the Muchomon's tamer. The remainder fired upon the soldiers on the north side, forcing them to scatter. _Lockheed can protect them from digimon but those coats can't stop our bullets! _Taichi slung his AK-47 and snatched a fallen comrade's M240 LMG and some belts, unloading high-caliber bullets on his enemies.

* * *

Meanwhile, Yuuji led his squad through the tunnel, making an escape. They were to meet up on the surface, where they will continue making progress until it was no longer possible. Yuuji barely made it into the tunnel when chemical fires sprang forth, truly separating both Taichi's and his groups. "TAICHI!"

"Go on," urged the Child of Courage. "I can deal with this!"

Yuuji hesitated for a moment, concern overwhelming him. Then he complied, fleeing with three persons and four digimon in tow. Lopmon, clutching his head tightly, summed up his thoughts in one sentence. "I **really** hope he'll be okay…"

* * *

Taichi's situation had worsened.

Not only was he barred from escape, but DSI reinforcements came, surrounding the lone squad's cover of pillars. Chemical flames prevented them from using the southern side of the chamber, and the worst part of it was they were all slowly being overwhelmed.

The Chosen Child overheard a DSI captain commanding the platoon pinning his squad down, presumably from the other tunnel. "Taichi Yagami, Child of Courage; incumbent leader of the Digidestined. Capture him. Kill the rest."

"Sir!"

Rapid footsteps coming his squad's way held only terrible news. A whirring sound filled the chamber, and in moments, strings of binary code ran up, down, left, and right in the air, appearing sporadically and unpredictably. Taichi's surroundings became more pronounced, adopting a rather digital air around them, as if they were from the Digital World itself.

_What, __**is**__, this? _The DSI Veterans arrived next. Their FAL's were equipped with shotgun attachments.

The Muchomon flapped its scarlet wings and leaped, attempting to slap them down with them. "MUGEN BINTA!"

One blast of shotgun shells not only stopped her, but also forced her back, careening into her tamer's arms. She was bleeding heavily from the front, but was adamant in defending the squad. Light gave Muchomon's beak an orange hue. "ARDENT FLARE!"

Instead of an attack, the flame sputtered out, as if the red, tropical bird couldn't produce it. _No, it's as if the attack was __**cancelled**__. _Taichi Yagami opened fire, his offense bolstered by the lone owner, two vengeful tamers, and one liberated digimon.

A chaotic gunfight ensued between the squad and the platoon convergin upon them. One of the rancorous tamers died, getting stabbed in the neck with a combat knife. A frog-like monster with four, uni-toed legs and a red dorsal fin targeted a veteran and unleashed a 1-million volt bolt of electricity. "DENGEKI BIRIRIN!"

The liberated Betamon's attack was weakened, but managed to kill one of the veterans before the digimon itself was killed with two shotgun blasts to the face. His owner screamed, emptying his AK-47 to avenge his slaughtered friend. "You'll pay, you S.O.B.'s!"

Another squad of veterans flanked them from the other side, and one of them intended to shoot the owner from behind. Taichi Yagami mowed them down with his scavenged M240, but that was not enough. One soldier had survived the sweep, and shot Taichi with a full blast of shotgun shells. His right hand was struck, a few pellets invading his body. Immediately he began to feel the effects of the fatigue alloy these pellets were made from: every action he did, every breath he took, had a toll on his body. The very act of reaching for his Desert Eagle, cocking it, and firing at his opponent's chest twice exhausted him to a great degree. And this came from onlya few pellets.

But **why** was the fatigue alloy affecting him, a human of all things? Did that have something to do with the Digital World-like qualities that now dominated the chamber? Was his body digital within this bounded field?

Taichi couldn't afford to ruminate further. More soldiers replaced the squad he just killed, and the screaming owner had been shot in the head. Agumon barely dodged a bullet and regurgitated another _Baby Flame_ at the other squad. Everyone was dead, save for the female tamer and her Muchamon.

Taichi immediately went to her side. He could hear her sobbing despite all the fighting, despite all the gunfire pursuing them as he dragged her and Muchomon's body with one arm using adrenaline-pumped strength, fighting back with nothing but a Desert Eagle in hand. The Child of Courage's cloak was saving him from death, but sooner or later even that cannot save him.

_I have to do it._

One of the DSI soldiers tackled Agumon, pinning him down, putting a gun to his large head.

_I must violate my own rules._

"Agumon." He gazed at the pinioned, orange dinosaur. Taichi unearthed his rectangular digivice from his pocket. A bright light enveloped the Digimon of Courage, startling his would-be slayer. "**EVOLVE!**"

Agumon's body, encased in light, grew in size and shape. The orange dinosaur stood, erect, towering 20 feet above the floor, his head almost reaching the ceiling.

Taichi dove when the light dissipated. A massive tail swept the entire floor, destroying not only the support pillars, but also pushing away the DSI veterans converging upon them. Bloodred eyes glistened behind a brown, horned helmet that extends all the way to its snout, wherein a third horn also protruded. The dinosaur that was once Agumon staunchly soared staunchly above them all, snarling.

The Child of Courage reached for the dinosaur's orange, blue-striped skin, urging his two remaining comrades to climb up. "GREYMON!" Taichi howled, his voice charged with authority. "We're getting out of here!"

Greymon did not respond, rearing his muscular body. "Miki!" commanded the Chosen Child. "Muchomon! Hold on tight!"

The tamer and her partner only had a second to prepare before Greymon straightened his legs and jumped, soaring above the DSI below. Taichi glimpsed a strange machine next to the tunnel, something that appeared portable, easy for two men to carry. _What the hell's that?_

Using his armored head, the Adult form of Agumon broke through the ceiling, causing debris to fall. Concrete and steel fanned out from the point of impact, descending upon the DSI with deadly force. Taichi held on as tight as he could, feeling his exhaustion fade away as they escaped the bounded digital field and the surroundings became more "real" than "digital".

Clouds of dust obscured his vision; Greymon's solid landing, nonetheless, meant they had surfaced successfully. The DSI HQ loomed 1½ kilometers north. _Just a little more. _Taichi was flabbergasted to discover what awaited him and Greymon once the dust settled…

With Greymon at the very center of an intersection, there were **two Type 90 main battle tanks** facing them, one from the right and one from the front, the barrels of their main guns ready to fire. "T, they, they expected us to escape!" stammered Taichi, completely paralyzed by the new development.

_Shit, what now? WHAT NOW?_

* * *

The Atchison Assault shotgun was smooth in her hands. Rika Nonaka cocked the gun as she approached the fire escape in the middle of the roof. Renamon, with her strength, took one of the smaller machinery on the rooftop and hurled it at the veterans pursuing the pair. "Hurry!" she croaked, her legs shaking, hyperventilating. "I can't keep this up any longer!"

Without mouthing a reply, the brunette tamer held the trigger, blasting the door's lock with shotgun shells before kicking it open. She dashed down . "C'mon!" Stopping half a flight from the top, the pineapple head chucked a frag grenade while the yellow fox followed her, not wanting any "guests" following her path.

"Take that door down," she gave the order once her partner landed beside her, leaping from the top.

Renamon stated, "Intervening," taking out her CheyTac Intervention, opening fire at the ceiling directly in front of the fire escape. The bullet's internal components and caliber ensured penetration and destruction of the concrete, barring access from the veterans.

"Good job," praised Rika. The young lady walked down the stairs briskly, just in case the veterans found a way to get down. Although only one fire escape led to the roof, the fact remained there were two other stairwells in this building. Caution was necessary, but the first thing she needed to do was inform Taichi Yagami.

The brunette put her hand to her ear, activating her earset's comm-link. "Taichi! Taichi! This is Rika. I was ambushed by DSI veterans! Entire squad is dead. I repeat: I was ambushed! I was—" She stopped. There was no response. Nothing. Nada.

Multiple thoughts spawned. What if Taichi was ambushed, too? What if he didn't make it? What would happen to Operation: Pyramid now?

"_Don't worry, Rika_," she recalled his reassurances from the Yoyogi Park briefing. _"We've got the digimon as trump cards, once we take out the security nexi."_

_But we never knew how potent those anti-digimon weapons were..._ Rika glanced at Renamon, who had trouble descending one stairwell after another. Exhaustion was killing her slowly, Rika thought, and that fatigue would surely haunt them when the time for battle landed upon them once more.

As if on cue, a resounding blast thundered from above. Pieces of rubble fell down the narrow space in-between the stairs, plummeting to the basement tens of feet below. In an instant she knew what happened: the DSI veterans found a way to breach the concrete barricade between them. Footsteps echoed, rapidly dropping. _I'm running out of time._

Rika brought Renamon and herself to the nearest exit and kicked the door open. It didn't budge. _Dammit, locked from outside! _Only one option was available: use the AA-12—it would alert the DSI to their presence, but with Renamon tired and the veterans having both the height advantage and (possibly) reinforcements, she had to take it!

The stern tamer brandished her trusty shotgun and blew the door open, kicking it down once it was weak. Assisting Renamon walk—she couldn't afford letting the yellow fox expend more energy than she needed—Rika led her digimon to a fire escape on the other side of the building. Hopefully they could elude their pursuers with it.

However, the moment Rika opened the door a bomb exploded on the stairs directly above and beneath her, closing off any path, whether it was upward or downward. _Shit! _Half of her body would've been pinned if Renamon wasn't sharp enough to at least pull her human half to safety. That scenario would've doomed them both.

"T-th-thanks," Rika sputtered. The close call left her in shock. _I am __**not**__ going near another fire escape!_

Luckily, they had one last option, and it required a leap of faith.

.

.

An impeccably _calculated _leap of faith.

.

.

After checking one of the maps beside the fire escape, the girl led her weakened digimon to a room with a large window. Seconds after instructing her to study the jump's feasibility, "your thoughts?"

Her comment dampened Rika's morale. "Too high," shaking her head. "The jump'll break** both** my legs."

What if we land on the building over there?" The fox's tamer pointed at a shorter building a wide block ahead. This was the problem with camping at very high locations: no digimon below Adult could survive the fall, cutting off any escape route. None, not even Armor levels (at least they can come out with less severe injuries).

Renamon's kept her piercing glare fixed at the window, gazing down. "Still too high, Rika."

"Even as Kyuubimon?"

The yellow fox shook her head. "And let them know we can evolve? We can't afford to have strike teams chasing us." Strike teams were basically a pair of helicopters equipped for heavy assault accompanied by several DSI squads composed of veteran and experienced men, every combatant armed with anti-digital and anti-personnel weaponry. Thinking about trying to escape from such a force sent shivers down Rika's spine.

She kicked the window. Hard. The damn thing didn't break. _Tough. _"Grrr!" she growled. "We're effing trapped!"

The tamer slapped her face in frustration, desperately trying to think of a way out. With two stairwells out of the picture, and the other, lower buildings too high for a leap of faith, one escape route kept returning to her mind, one she knew she couldn't take at all costs: the elevator. It was a hackneyed option, not to mention effortless to defend.

Nonaka noticed Renamon's ears jerking up. _Damn._ "They're here!" murmured Renamon, as the tamer and her partner stacked behind a cubicle. Rika readied the AA-12.

"Give me a general direction and distance," Rika whispered. _They're probably sweeping the floors clean. We can't escape from the room, but right now we have the advantage! _There was no way in hell she wasn't taking this opportunity.

Renamon concentrated, seconds strongly dilating her eyes. "5 o'clock, three meters. Another at 8 o'clock, five meters."

_The first one's passing through the cubicles._ "The second's yours." The fox nodded, disappearing into the shadows like a ninja; Rika sprinted towards the corner on her right, heading for the path running across the cubicles. She maintained her crouching position. Even she could hear the soldier's footsteps echoing nearby.

It was time. Rika peeked out of cover, and fired three times into the veteran soldier's torso. Her opponent had a fast reaction time, diving out of the way. A grunt of pain, however, told Rika her pellets were faster. _Now to finish this!_ She followed the man, still crouching. Rika turned the corner but retreated as soon as she emerged, narrowly avoiding bullets from her enemy's rifle.

"Yasuharu to Tanaka," she heard him speak. "Tangoes on the 35th floor! We've been ambushed and I'm"—Rika did not let him finish. _I won't let you! _The moment she heard his voice she snapped her shotgun blindly in the soldier's direction and held the trigger down for three seconds, unleashing enough pellets to kill the man.

* * *

Meanwhile, Renamon hid behind her target once she phased out of the shadows. Rika's job was easier considering the DSI soldiers weren't equipped with armor tailor-made for human-to-human combat. The _Lockheed Dispersion Coating_ on their vests made digital attacks harder to kill them. The real problem is the fatigue bullets lodged in her body, as they severely weakened both her attacks and speed. Renamon speculated the man could survive a direct hit from _Touhakken _unless…

Then Rika took action, her gunfire echoing in the room. "Yasuharu!" the soldier exclaimed, heading over to support his mate, firing at Rika's direction, hoping for an intimidated retreat. _Chance!_ Renamon pounced from behind like a wild animal leaping for the kill. Her hands went aflame, emitting an ominous blue hue. "TOUHAKKEN!"

Hearing the announcement and feeling the immense heat on his back coerced the soldier to turn. Renamon threw a fiery punch at the man, aiming straight for his face, a vital weakness in the dispersion-coated armor the DSI wore. A sickening crunch echoed in the room, blood bursting, splattering the yellow fox's fur.

"Coby!"

She turned right, gaping straight at the man who almost killed her, stricken by the way she ruthlessly—disgustingly—disposed his teammate. "YOU EFFING BITCH!" he yelled, firing directly at the yellow fox.

Renamon sprinted out of harm's way, preparing to counter when the glass window running across the room shattered thunderously. She heard Rika scream, "THE SIDE DOOR! RENAMON, HURRY!"

Her piercing blue eyes caught silhouettes of armored men in the darkness. _Reinforcements!_ Then she heard the monotonous buzz of a helicopter's rotors. For a moment, the yellow fox was stunned by the sight of a veteran DSI squad rappelling down the building and straight into the wartorn office, shooting at her and her human half upon landing, fully equipped. A helicopter hovered behind them, a fireteam standing by, training a mounted machine gun straight at Renamon. She knew even a single hit would kill her, even in her Adult form. _Crap!_

"DIE!" The veteran before her opened fire; two bullets grazed her skin, their digital nature affecting the fox once more, increasing that nasty feeling of exhaustion. Renamon rolled out of the way, hiding behind another cubicle. However, she moved quickly onto the next, as her position was immediately bombarded with a _rifle grenade_ by one of the veterans who rappelled in.

Renamon passed by a workstation and ripped a rather heavy CPU from its wires. She carried it with her until one of the new opponents got in her way, at whom she hurled the machinery, knocking him down. The fox breathed heavily, her sight blurring. _Damn, I'm too exhausted!_ Imbuing the blue flames of _Touhakken_ on her feet, she stepped on the fallen soldier's neck and leapt towards the side door Rika just entered, turning around and crossed her arms, summoning fifteen shards of crystal, launching her incomplete attack on the fresh combatants. "KOYOSETSU!"

The squad took cover behind cubicles; Renamon landed close to the door, on her back. As she picked herself up, her first opponent arrived and aimed his rifle directly at her. "You're finished!"

* * *

The DSI knew they were on the 35th floor. Veteran soldiers were rappelling in, and it didn't take long for Rika to expect more to come, either from the only fire escape available **or** from the other offices. _Little by little we're being cornered like rats_. She entered her point of escape successfully, but blanched upon seeing Renamon struggle to catch up to her, landing a mere three feet in front of the door she stacked behind when one of the first soldiers they fought was upon her.

"NO!" The tamer went out of her current shelter and unleashed several shots at the soldier, this time some pellets striking his torso, the _Lockheed armor_ unable to withstand the barrage. She went over to her digimon partner and dragged her heavy body as the fox groaned. Rika held her shotgun with one hand, pulling the trigger whenever a DSI soldier dared to peek out.

_No other option but the elevator_. Her mind kept screaming, "It's a trap, you fool! It's a trap!"

_I KNOW! _She hushed herself. _We'll deal with it when we cross that bridge. For now,_ Rika hauled Renamon to the next office, slamming the door behind them, but not before tossing a flashbang inside.

"FLASHBANG!" she heard a soldier exclaim. _A few extra seconds, that's all I'll get._

Rika could even hear the helicopter moving slowly to her position. She knelt before Renamon and raised her. "C'mon, Renamon, we're not yet safe!"

Renamon snaked her arm around the tamer, slouching as she stood. She could barely run. Being so close to the fox's furry body let her hear Renamon's frantic heartbeat. _Effing fatigue bullets_. "Just lean on me," she instructed, reloading the AA-12's drum magazine. "We'll get there," Rika swore. "We'll get there. To that effing elevator."

Rika led Renamon and herself down one of the paths between the cubicles, aiming her shotgun at the door, downing one of the veteran soldiers rushing in. Only two fireteams were left; unfortunately one of them stood on the helicopter, beyond the kill range of the Atchison Assault. The glass shattered when the machine gun started firing; the two ducked, narrowly avoiding the bullets, creeping slowly towards the middle, where they have a straight path to the hallway outside this danger zone.

"Renamon, prepare _Koyosetsu_," Rika ordered. "We need to distract those bastards on that mounted gun."

"Rika, behind us!"

They slipped behind the nearest cubicle, almost struck by bullets from behind. _Close!_ Rika peeked out and retreated again, a bullet slicing the surface of her cheek. _Too far_. Holding the AA-12 on her left, Nonaka brandished a TMP with her right and again peered towards her opponents, firing upon them. They took cover.

_Now!_ She and Renamon continued their progress, hiding behind another cubicle to take cover and retaliate. They had to keep their heads down, lest they risk getting struckby the helicopter gun's high-caliber bullets. They advanced like this slowly, eventually reaching the midpoint.

It was the moment of truth. The plan assumed there were no reinforcements awaiting them at the hallway, where Renamon and Rika would flee to the elevator and hold off the DSI. It was a good thing the tamer checked the map before heading to that godforsaken office. At least she knew where they were.

Rika took out a fragmentation grenade, ready to clamp her teeth on the pin. "Renamon, are you ready?"

Renamon opened her azure eyes, focused and prepped. Charging up an attack without actually summoning the projectiles needed for it was difficult, but very lucrative once unleashed, since the effect would be similar to a cloud of spikes instantly appearing without warning and hurling themselves at the enemy. "Yes."

"We won't die here," she said again.

"I trust you," Renamon responded.

"Me too."

Rika took a deep breath before initiating the plan. She removed the pin with her teeth and hurled it towards her pursuers. Renamon grunted, going against her body screaming for respite, leaping into the middle. With a second or two available, the yellow fox slammed her crossed arms outward. "Full charge, KOYOSETSU!" The effects earlier described came to pass, and immediately the soldiers on the mounted gun abandoned their position for cover.

Her human half watched the entire thing. _Hopefully one of those shards will ricochet and strike one of 'em. But that's just wishful thinking._ Rika deserted her cover, going straight for the middle. Renamon fell to her knees; Rika took the fox's gloved arm and dragged Renamon towards their only exit.

When she blew the door open with one gunshot, Rika was relieved to see **zero reinforcements**. _We're in luck!_ However, the echoes of shattering glass—signs of more incoming opponents—reverberated in the hallway. _We got out just in time!_ "C'mon, Renamon, to the elevator!"

* * *

Back within the perimeter, Greymon stood in the line of fire of two Type 90 battle tanks. Taichi was stunned, unable to process the information and deal with the situation. It was rare for the Chosen Child of Courage to be struck with strategy paralysis, but during those times, miracles only came from actions made on instinct.

Unfortunately, even Taichi lost his instinct his battle. Greymon knew it would last for a minute or two, but they definitely did not have enough time for this.

Greymon, however, did not lose his composure. Though shocked by this new development, the Adult digimon acted quickly. "Taichi!" he spoke before lunging at the tank in front of him. "Don't let the other one fire!"

He heard the grown man gulp. "Whatever you're thinking, it better be good!" Taichi shook himself off his rut and fired his AK-47 upon the tank, probably aiming for the viewport. _Heh, that's the Taichi I know._

Greymon's orange, three-digit hand curled around the barrel, his claws scratching the vehicle's armor a bit. Bestowed with immense strength, the large, orange dinosaur had no problems lifting the Type 90. An explosion from the side occurred, but there was no pain. Greymon assumed it was Taichi's doing, trying to delay the other tank as much as possible, this time launching a rifle grenade at the viewport.

Greymon roared, "RRRAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!" slamming the tank right on top of the other, culminating in a massive explosion. Nobody could've survived that. "Whew!" Taichi heaved.

Almost immediately after, Greymon felt a tickling pain across his entire back; he rotated, protecting Taichi, Miki, and Muchomon. He lifted his arms, protecting his eyes and bare torso. An RPG exploded in front of Greymon's helmet, obscuring his vision.

Taichi's voice screamed in his ears. "Soldiers garrisoning a building, half past 1 o'clock! Show them your _Mega Flame_!"

_Eh? "Half past 1 o'clock"? What the hell's he talking about? _The orange dinosaur loved him, but sometimes his human half just didn't make any sense.

"Now's not the time to tell me the fricking time, Taichi!" Greymon complained.

"I'm telling you where those bastards are!" he heard the adult grumble. "Didn't I teach you the O'Clock navigation system?"

Greymon laughed nervously. "Haha, sorry, Taichi, I kinda forgot…"

He heard the elder Yagami slap his face. "At a time like this…!"

.

.

Miki finally spoke up. "I can see them too! Greymon, look straight ahead!"

"But I can't see anything!"

"Doesn't matter, just do as I say!" The dinosaur complied, following her directions despite feeling the urge to reel away from all the pain he was getting from the bullets landing on him (and the RPGs striking him occasionally). "**Slowly** turn your body towards the right, stop when I tell you to."

Taichi finally caught on, and when Greymon had arrived at the proper angle, yelled "stop!" along with Miki.

"Aim straight ahead and show them your power!" the Chosen Child exclaimed.

Greymon summoned a gigantic fireball from within him, unleashing it upon the garrisoned building. "MEGA FLAME!"

The fireball struck its target, erupting into a fiery explosion. Greymon knew he got the DSI soldiers when the attacks immediately ceased. "Good job, bro," praised his partner. "Miki, thanks."

.

But the action was far from over.

No sooner had the attacks cease did Muchomon's high-pitched voice float into the Adult digimon's ears, warning the group about multiple DSI squads disembarking from some APC's. Not all of them were veterans, but every single one posed a threat to the Child level and the two humans the dinosaur protected. _I won't let them die without a fight!_

Greymon began his assault by coughing up another _Mega Flame _in one direction, while both Taichi and Miki opened fire at the soldiers, sending out rifle grenades whenever necessary. Muchomon was relegated to a spotter's role while he recovered from the fatigue bullets in his body.

The dinosaur digimon had plenty of bullets lodged in his skin, yet the feeling of fatigue had yet to reach the level where he could no longer run or attack. _We can still do this_, he thought.

_Yes, we can. _Greymon snarled, his roar booming in the soldiers' ears, letting them know they were dealing with one of the most experienced fighters among the Digidestined, among the Twelve! _YES WE CAN!_

.

.

.

_The Digidestined continue to struggle against the overwhelming might of the Digital Suppression Initiative. Rika Nonaka and Taichi Yagami have successfully routed the ambushes against them, but at a costly price. Friends have died; some sacrifices have been made. The Chosen Child of Courage himself was forced to unveil his trump card. As the battle for the egalitarian world conceived by the Twelve rages on, the DSI fights back with equipment derived from heavy research on the Digital World, the digital monsters, and the digivices. _

_Things will only go downhill from here. Will the potential unlocked by digital evolution be enough for the Digidestined to create another miracle? To be continued in part II._

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[5] I've already outlined _The Butterfly Effect_ in its entirety. The second portion of the chapter, which I have yet to write, sets the "counterattack" when every digimon with a tamer is going to evolve - after all, Taichi has already broken the Golden Rule of this operation and will predictably authorize evolution once he and his party are done defending their asses. The centerpiece of this rather long chapter will be featured _during_ the counterattack, which not only reflects the chapter title, but also signifies the beginning of the hell that my main protagonists are going to experience. The only reason why I decided to split the chapter is because of the length! We're not only seeing Yuuko Urameshi and the Kurosawa family again, but also simultaneously watching how Rika Nonaka and Taichi Yagami proceed. Even Christopher has a scene at the end. **I'm trying to keep things short here. Bear with me. Please.**

As for what will happen next... just wait until _The Butterfly Effect (Part II) _is finished and published. I'll get there eventually. I'm already quite eager to write the next few chapters, since: [a] Hikari's about to meet Chris and Veemon (obviously discovering the fact Daisuke still lives); [b] we're close to seeing Daisuke Motomiya for the first time in this story; [c] the Modifiers Tina, Aldo, and Lucy are returning from the Digital World; and [d] among other things I don't wish to disclose (hehe can't reveal too many spoilers you know ^_^)

[6] The _Digital Suppression Initiative _has a crapload of anti-digimon technology aside from Mitsuo Yamaki's _Digital Modification_ project. The latter is still prototypical, but what they're using in this chapter are regularly issued by M&A. So far, _fatigue bullets_ and _Lockheed Dispersion Coating_ has been unveiled, along with two unnamed weapons that can cancel digimon attacks and even digitize a portion of the Real World. Things are getting serious now that the DSI's bringing out the big boys and their big toys. If you're wondering **how the hell** the DSI appeared at Rika's perch and how they quickly responded to Taichi's subterranean approach, that fact will be released in Part II. :)

[7] Responses to reviews:

**RazenX **(Chapter 11): I've received your review and would've responded if it wasn't for the fact you disabled PMing. (Boooooo!) At any rate, I'm actually surprised there's a story that can rival mine in terms of chapter lengths. LOL. Anyway, your comments show that I've accomplished what I wanted with the way I wrote _The Interloper_ so far, and I'm glad you find my writing as "gripping", considering that I still see signs for improvement and some overlooked grammar & spelling errors in the narrative. Calling my battle scenes as "some of the best you've read" would've made me happy if it wasn't for the fact they're too damn long DX

Thanks for the review. ^^

**Rets**: I couldn't resist throwing in the furry scene at the last minute. Originally I was going to have Chris leave Vee outside the door while he accosts the clerk; yet if he did that, what kind of friend would he be? Even though he's too selfish and noninterventionist to think beyond his own goals, at the very least the guy still has some morals left in him. XD

And I thought I was going to get people with that last bit with Greymon and the part about Daisuke teaching Veemon about sexual intercourse and their *ahem* "creative variations" during the teen years. LOL


	13. The Butterfly Effect (Part II)

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] Well, apparently _The Butterfly Effect_ was worth 36,375 words in total. The second half you're about to read is, I regret to say, 24 thousand words long and 8% of that is practically copy-pasting to add value to the narrative (please accept my bullshit! XDDDD) On retrospect, when I was done proofreading this chapter, I actually found a **second** split point that would've turned _The Butterfly Effect_ into a three-parter.

I considered turning this into a three-part chapter. But why bother? I've completed the damn chapter already. I wasted one day doing nothing but this when I could've encoded the financial statements of a Philippine lottery company or practice some Escrima at home. You could probably say laziness finally struck... the moment I uploaded this chapter to the document manager. :P Looks like I won't be updating for a while. I got more important work to do! :D

[2] Since this is practically a battle chapter, you will obviously want to listen to some hardcore music. I would recommend _Mona Lisa Overdrive V2_ by Juno Reactor (go to youtube and copy-paste **watch?v=2fp8mYC5abE** into the URL). It's the freeway chase song from _Matrix: Reloaded_. One of my readers, Rets, recommends listening to Mass Effect and Ace Combat BGM's to fuel your music needs.

Oh, and there's a non-battle portion near the end of the chapter. When I was imagining this scene in the original story outline (before the characters pretty much took over the construction of the dialogue for me), I had the Kanako Itou's _A Wish For the Stars_ in mind: it's the second ending theme for Gonzo's _BLASSREITER. A Wish for the Stars_ is a melodramatic piece that's actually quite touching, and I think playing this during that scene will enhance the reading experience as it fits very well to the events happening there. You can find the song by going to youtube and copy-pasting this in front of the URL: **watch?v=qGQtmEAuVAE**.

[3] Reviews and comments are generally welcome, but I have a preference for critiques, particularly in the way I am narrating the story, and in the way I portray the characters. I always strive to improve the quality of my writing.

[4] Okay, I should stop babbling! Read the chapter ^^ Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Taichi didn't know how long it took before they managed to reverse the situation they were in. DSI soldiers were pouring from multiple sides, ready to deal with both their human and digimon foes.

Taichi, Miki, and Muchomon were dreadfully exhausted from their ordeal, but Greymon's fatigue was far worse than theirs. Greymon was a big target, and the most dangerous out of all four. The DSI did well to mark him, to pepper his skin with fatigue bullets, even if it cost them their lives.

Some time had passed by the time his group was done with several platoons of DSI men. The only ones still alive at this point were the veterans, their battle experience manifesting in quick reaction times that made them as slippery as eels. Killing even one required the full attention of the squad. Greymon would fire a _Mega Flame_, while Miki and Taichi guard the sides of the target, shooting the moment he emerges.

But that would only work for _one_ target. The DSI veterans left were worth two squads, each one a former squad leader whose comrades—dear friends—were slain by the people wrongfully branded as terrorists.

_Or did I finally embrace this misnomer?_ Taichi thought, retaliating against a DSI veteran. His bullets struck the man's leg, slowing him down. Greymon sauntered to him, squishing the human underneath his big foot. Taichi ignored the man's agonized scream. _I wonder how many people I've killed_, he mused.

Taichi had no time to ruminate on this. No. One veteran may have died, but there were several more. Greymon was exhausted, and if the situation didn't let up, his devolution was inevitable.

.

.

Then fortune smiled upon them. A purple, tri-horned rabbit, afoot taller than a grown man, sped across the battlefield. Brandishing a silver gauntlet fashioned with a triangular claw of sharp blades, the monster leapt in and took out three veterans at once, overwhelming them with its agility. Yuuji and his squad appeared from the alley behind the veterans—obviously their exit point—and gunned down the remainder, flanking them. One of the veterans survived and tried to make a break for it, knowing he was completely outnumbered and outmatched.

Taichi slid down Greymon's arm and fell to the concrete, pursuing him, ordering the thirty-foot dino to guard the perimeter, to scout for any incoming reinforcements. The Chosen Child of Courage caught up to his target and shot several times, aiming for his back, intending to kill. The bullets struck their mark.

Relieved that the skirmish had been won, that he and what was left of his platoon possessed some time for respite, Taichi Yagami sauntered to Yuuji, watching the purple rabbit land beside the boy. A piece of cloth, scavenged from a soldier's body, was in its hands, wiping the blood off its blades. Sadly, there was nothing that could be done to remove the bloodstains from its orange gi. Luckily, the blue bandana tied to its neck was devoid of burgundy.

Taichi spoke, "Great assist, Turuiemon. Yuuji. You guys saved us from that pinch."

Yuuji sighed. "For a moment there I thought you were going to scold us!"

"For what?"

"…I had Lopmon evolve, didn't I?"

The elder Yagami cast his eye on Yuuji's squad. Their numbers had dwindled down significantly. Dobermon had died. Tommy—the frightened tamer—was dead, and conseqeuently, so was his digimon. The two owners were still alive, but their digimon did not make it, probably making the supreme sacrifice. One of them was wounded, but patched up pretty well from initial first aid.

"I have a feeling you were forced."

Yuuji nodded. "The DSI ambushed us in that tunnel," he recounted. "They must've been following us ever since we got out of that"—he shuddered, probably thinking of the disgusting sewage—"tunnel, so far behind our digimon never detected them." Dobermon had been the first to fall. Tommy and his digimon would've gotten outsafely, but one of the soldiers caught up to them and gunned the poor boy down before Lopmon evolved to Turuiemon and slew the squad.

Taichi nodded, listening to the story. Muchomon wobbled in, tugging on the Child of Courage's cloak, handing a scavenged object to the Chosen Child. Upon inspection, Taichi realized he held in his hands a device that clearly marks the locations of all security nexi still standing.

He smiled after persuing it for a minute. _We have a clear path to the HQ. A lot of the nexi have been taken out. We've got plenty of space!_

"Taichi!" Taichi's smirk diseappeared. Greymon's voice echoed in the alley, his head turned towards one side. "We've got company coming in. I can hear APC's!"

"And tanks," added Turuiemon.

Yuuji asked. "What now?"

"We'll meet 'em head-on." He scanned his platoon, every person and digimon ready to give their lives for his cause. "Ready yourselves, guys. This is going to be ugly." He leaned closer to Yuuji. "By the way, hand me your earphone."

From then on, Phase III of Operation: Pyramid commenced. Every tamer was authorized to have their digimon evolve to the next level, if they haven't done so already. "Meet you at the HQ!" Taichi closed, returning the small machine to his friend and combat buddy.

* * *

Yuuko Urameshi reloaded her M240 LMG. Hearing Taichi permitting evolution did not really uplift her spirits, having broken _Pyramid_'s Golden Rule ages ago.

The communicator she obtained from ToyAgumon's initiative came in handy, allowing foreknowledge of the DSI's plans. Who knew one of the veteran squad leaders **used this** to his advantage?

Comm chatter intercepted through the scavenged communicator misled Yuuko into believing that the particular street they were headed for was fortified significantly with several strike teams, enough to completely overwhelm her platoon, even if the digimon were to evolve. It just so happened there was an alley that would've allowed them all to sneak past them.

Retrospectively this was a decision well-made, if it was accurate. Sadly, Urameshi was under the belief it was. After all, the opponents were _not_ supposed to know they were tapping into their communication lines.

After two minutes of surreptitiously moving through this route, they emerged into a rather spacious area. The open space was stripped bare of any items worth noting, except for dumpsters and piles of garbage so rotten the group could smell it from where they stood. The markings on the paved floor, though faded from exposure to the elements, gave Yuuko the impression it was once a sports ground for the residents of the duplex and apartment surrounding her. At least, before the DSI moved in and kicked out every person within a 3 km. radius with full force of the government.

When the entire platoon had entered the area (squads Alpha and Gamma on the side closest to the exit, and Beta and Delta to the entrance), DSI fireteams emerged from behind the mounds of noisome garbage, wearing masks to dilute the disgusting odors. They opened fire with their Belgian-manufactured FN FALs, each shot precisely aimed.

Worse, Yuuko narrowly avoided getting shot in the head by a DSI sniper camping at one of the windows of this former apartment home. ToyAgumon fired _Toy Flame_s at the sniper, having a general idea of his location. But the man simply took cover, vanishing into the building, probably transferring to another window.

Her platoon caught off-guard, many were dying. Satomi, her comrade, could barely suppress his tears when Ganimon took a bullet for him before sending the man who shot the crab digimon to hell with one swift decapitation.

Yuuko pointed at the garbage bags the DSI were using for cover. "TOYAGUMON! Light 'em up!"

"Gladly! TOY FL—" RPG's rained down on them from above, fired by soldiers on the rooftops. ToyAgumon saw it coming at the last minute and evaded, escaping with severe bruises to his body. In addition, soldiers were pouring in from both exit and entry passageways, effectively turning the open space into a death trap.

_I will not die here! _Yuuko's thoughts screamed. _Not among garbage!_ To die there was an added insult to the Digidestined. Thoroughly insulted, the woman brandished her digivice. "ToyAgumon, EVOLVE!"

The digimon in question shone bright yellow, immersing the open space in so much light it blinded every person within, even Yuuko herself. When the light finally died down, bullets flew from the center, striking the soldiers toting RPGs down accurately, each one with a gaping hole in the neck.

Standing in ToyAgumon's place was a humanoid digimon slightly taller than Yuuko, whose distinguishing feature was his torso: the barrel and chamber of a giant revolver. "REVOLMON!" Yuuko ordered, "Show those effin' bastards they're not dealing with trash!" _I will __**kill**__ whoever set this up._

Its yellow eyes glinted, the rest of its face hidden beneath the black shadow of its cowboy hat. Bringing its robotic limbs up and tilting the headgear down using one of its gloved hands, Revolmon twirled the two revolvers in his hands and cocked them. "YES!"

.

.

Needless to say, the numbers commanded by the DSI put Yuuko's entire platoon at a disadvantage. Though these soldiers were not supported by helicopters, they were equipped with fatigue bullets and coated armor, enabling them to survive Revolmon's _Justice Bullets_ and exhaust him simultaneously.

Yuuko Urameshi won this skirmish after five minutes of intense fighting. When the dust settled, only her personal squad was left. The DSI had taken out most of the tamers in her group before they could even follow the platoon leader's lead.

She reloaded her M240, eyeing the exit ahead. _We're back in the open_. Yuuko glanced up at the DSI HQ towering above them, hearing Taichi's order blare in her earset as she took out a black hairclip from her pocket and tied her brown hair, having lost the red one in that ambush. _God, have mercy on us._

* * *

The areas adjacent to the elevators were devoid of any cover, save for two support pillars running up from floor to ceiling, each one about two feet wide. Some had potted plants set down next to them, for decorations, Rika supposed.

Worse, there were four elevators spread out, and the pillars were in the middle. Though they were the only cover available, the problem was, the distance between one pillar and the steel doors required two to three seconds' travel time, a short window of vulnerability. Rika didn't like it. Neither did Renamon.

They did not have a choice in the matter, hugging this limited cover ten seconds after Rika pushed the DOWN button. The DSI had been quick to catch up. "Renamon," suggested the brunette tamer, "use the Intervention. We can't afford distancing ourselves from the elevators." _Besides, I can't have you overworking yourself._

Hearing their pursuers' footsteps, Rika preempted their arrival by silently rolling a frag grenade towards the entry closest to her. That was another problem to this scene: the DSI could come in from two different sides, **plus** the limited space they defended was easy to overwhelm.

The first fireteam came in, just as Rika pulled back, avoiding their fire. Renamon held the Intervention tightly on her hip. At this confined space, there was no need to even aim down the sights of the rifle, its bullets' caliber and internal components enough to destroy anything she'll strike. The close quarters boosted her accuracy.

As soon as the frag grenade exploded, overwhelming the two soldiers, both Rika and Renamon peeked out of cover, shooting their first targets. Several more came in, opening fire at them the moment they came into view. The pair hid behind their respectively. _Dammit when will the elevator get here?_

Then the gunfire lapsed. Were they reloading? Or worse, were they preparing for further assault, something more aggressive? Rika Nonaka exploited this temporal lapse, popping out of her cover. The moment she did, she found a gun held to her neck. Without a moment's hesitation the tamer pulled the trigger, virtually destroying the torso of the man in front of her, killing him.

Another person leaned out of the corner and opened fire. Rika ducked and tried to shoot his hands, but the man simply went back to cover. She eyed her pillar, her bastion of safety: it was terribly damaged. Obviously made of hollow blocks rather than solid concrete, it was clear the caliber of the bullets striking it were far too strong for it. Even a rifle grenade would kill them all. Luckily the confines of the space were so small, even a high explosive grenade would deal friendly fire damage.

Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw someone coming out of the side Renamon guarded. The yellow fox's attention drawn by another soldier, this person held something two objects in his hands. She knew what they were. _Grenades!_

Aiming at him, the tamer opened fire. He went down, moments too late. The soldier had thrown his items at the tamer and her digimon. _Shit! _They landed in the space between their pillars. "Renamon, between –ow!" the man she attempted to disarm managed to shoot and graze her cheek.

"…wha—" Renamon saw them immediately. She kicked the nearest one back to the DSI veterans. It was a frag grenade. The men attacking them bolted away seconds before its explosion. Simultaneously, the other grenade blew up before either Renamon or Rika could even touch it.

A loud bang thundered in both Rika's and Renamon's ears. Rika, unfortunately, was looking at it. The item emitted a flash of bright light, so white it blinded her completely. Then everything went black. An ear-shattering sound whined in her ears, rendering her immobile.

"AGH!" Her sense of balance was lost; she dropped her weapon, collapsing on the floor. The sound of another body collapsing near her was a telltale sign not even her digimon escaped from it.

"They're incapped!" a soldier blared. "Take 'em out!"

The irony was, the elevator arrived at that very moment. "Ting," it announced. Rika could hear the doors opening. Sprawled on the floor, her vision slowly returning, she could see the blurred, pixelated images of the light before her. _Damn, it's… so… close!_

Footsteps shuffled quickly. Guns were cocked. "RENAMON!" Rika screamed. Relying on her digimon was the only option she had left, but Rika was too weak, too disoriented to summon her undying conviction, the source of Renamon's evolutionary energy…

* * *

If Yuuko had to fight off ambushing veterans using both rifles and RPG's, Junas Kurosawa and what was left of his platoon—one squad had been wiped out during the initial assault—faced seemingly insurmountable odds in the form of Type 90 Battle Tanks, helicopters, and tons of soldiers led by a few veterans.

His platoon spent the last of their rifle grenades to destroy the vehicles in their way. Even so, that did not stop the onslaught. The battlefield abruptly took on an otherworldly look, as if they were fighting within the boundaries of the Digital World itself.

The soldiers they fought **clearly aimed** not for their heads and chests, but for their arms and legs. Junas Kurosawa had the misfortune to witness a bullet strike the leg of a teenager in his platoon while he was switching covers. In an instant the man was overwhelmed with fatigue; he collapsed on his knees: a sitting duck!

Falcomon saved him at the last minute, dragging him to the side of a building Mr. Kurosawa used as cover. The owl then leapt out and hurled several bamboo tubes at his human opponents. "UCHITAKE OTOSHI!" Impmon also participated in combat, firing orbs of burning flame at the soldiers like he was shooting them with a handgun. Several other digimon were present, and they too provided significant fire support to a platoon that should've been wiped out minutes ago.

"Kazuya!" Mr. Kurosawa eyed the wound on his leg. The bullet simply grazed it, yet the force was so strong it shaved off 3 inches of flesh. "What happened to you?"

"I, I dunno!" he stammered, still hyperventilating. "The moment I was hit, I suddenly got tired! Even talking to you's exhausting!" Kazuya paused, leaning on the wall.

_That sounds like he just got hit by a Fatigue Bullet! _Mr. Kurosawa shook his head, confused. "I don't understand," he murmured. "They only affect digimon; fatigue bullets shouldn't affect humans unless they're in the Digital World." _And even then, one bullet couldn't possibly be strong enough to make someone collapse out of exhaustion!_

.

.

The battle had been an arduous one, but after ten minutes, the Kurosawas' platoon emerged victorious. Their victory came at a price, however. Fourteen people were left, and of them only ten could fight—the other four wounded in the leg and dramatically affected by fatigue bullets. Four digimon survived, including Falcomon and Impmon.

Mr. Kurosawa made sure his family's digimon destroyed the reason why the anti-digimon weapons were also working on humans: a small, gas-powered machine light enough for two people to carry. A squad of soldiers guarded it severely, but they went down after a fierce firefight. "Don't let them take down the Zone Emulator!" were one of the soldiers' last words.

Whatever this "Zone Emulator" was, it generated a digital field bounded within a set diameter. _50 meters, give or take_, reckoned Mr. Kurosawa. No wonder even humans were being affected by anti-digimon weapons! Any biological object entering the Digital World would be converted to data, making them more vulnerable to digital attacks, which had amplified effects on digimon themselves considering it became easier to reprogram digital data made flesh.

It was a terrible supplement to the DSI's arsenal.

But it was also an opportunity. Mr. Kurosawa ordered everyone in their platoon to switch out their AK-47's for the fallen DSI's FALs. The guns were loaded with 7.62 NATO rounds infused with a digital component programmed to increase energy consumption. "We'll fight fire with fire," he told his platoon. _Besides, we were running out of ammo and rifle grenades._

* * *

Impmon followed Ai and Mako's parents as they went northwest further, deeper into the perimeter, towards the skyscraper towering above them. He had to admit it, Mr. Kurosawa was right. The battles were getting more intense now, and the black imp had more than his fair share of fighting. They were beginning to tire him out, but his body was not allowed to rest, not when his tamers were constantly in danger. Ai and Mako always stayed in the sidelines, away from the DSI veterans' lines of fire. Even so, there were some who tried to target them.

The next street held a big surprise for the Kurosawa platoon: a heavily-garrisoned road secured by battle tanks and sandbags used as cover, complete with deployable machine guns operated by the DSI. Mr. Kurosawa ordered his platoon to retreat, seconds before RPG's and a crapload of bullets struck their last position.

Their retreat was expected: it was a trap! A platoon of DSI soldiers, four squads led by four veterans, surprised them, firing upon them from two different sides of the street. Impmon felta bullet strike him in the waist. "GAH!" _Why you…!_ He summoned a maroon fireball on the tip of his finger. "NIGHT OF—" To his horror, the flames suddenly disappeared. As if his very attack was **cancelled**. "What the mothereffin'!"

Sniper support took out two DSI soldiers, but that did not deter them from mowing down the remainder of Junas's platoon. Impmon generated two more fireballs in _both_ his hands and fired them off. Only one went through, forcing a DSI soldier to leap away, straight into the path of the Kurosawas' line of fire. The man was struck in the hip. He then stayed on the cement, completely paralyzed by what looked like fatigue.

_Why the hell are some of my attacks being cancelled? _Before he knew it, Impmon felt someone seize the red bandana tied to his neck. Someone dragged him behind a tree, moments before bullets struck his previous position. "I-Impmon," his rescuer sputtered. It was Mako. "You… you okay? You stopped moving!"

The imp brushed off the teenager's hands. "Yeah, yeah," he replied. Impmon shook his head, stunned. "I don't know what just happened. My attack… some of it's being cancelled!"

"Cancelled?" gasped Ai, overhearing this.

"Ever since I got struck here." Impmon pointed out the bullet wound on his waist. It wasn't serious. Nothing a digimon couldn't handle. "At least it ain't a fatigue bullet."

* * *

Mr. Kurosawa took cover next to the entrance of a grocery store. "Shit," he cursed. "We're surrounded from both sides."

"Junas!"

It was Tadashi Katou. "What now?" grumbled Mr. Kurosawa. _Great, more problems._

"I don't know why, but our digimon's attacks are being cancelled!"

He blinked. "Wha?"

"I don't understand either," reported Tadashi. "But it seems like everytime the digimon attack, 50% of the time their attacks just, disappear!"

"Dammit. Did they get hit?"

Tadashi nodded.

Junas pounded the wall, damaging the glass. "THOSE BASTARDS!" Then he felt someone tugging his arm. Mr. Kurosawa had the urge to scream out, stifling it only when he saw Mako, Ai, and Impmon before him.

"He needs to evolve."

_Not this again!_ "Taichi hasn't given us the word yet!" countered Mr. Kurosawa. "We can't show the DSI all our cards." He dismissed, "Not right now."

"If not now, Junas, then **when**?" interjected Tadashi.

"We had this conversation before, dad," Mako stepped up.

Mr. Kurosawa remembered what happened the last time all too easily. "What if there's still a nearby nexus?"

This time Falcomon volunteered, raising his right wing. "I'll look for it and take it out!"

"Do you even know where it is?"

This question shut the owl up. He had no idea where the security nexi were, and risking his life searching for it was completely out of the question. Worse, Junas could see some bullet-made wounds on his body. Falcomon wasn't tired, meaning all his attacks had a 50% cancellation chance. Those were bad odds.

His own wife, however, stood up for her children's plan. "One of the other digimon picked up this device." Mrs. Kurosawa handed a small monitor to Falcomon. "I think it shows the location of any existing security nexi and their areas of effect." She turned to him. "Junas, we should ask help from the snipers' digimon."

Mr. Kurosawa held his breath. This was another tough decision. Of the party that ambushed their rear, only one squad had been taken down. Some squads from up ahead were already reinforcing their comrades, with many left behind just to make sure any Digidestined foolish enough to wade into the line of fire would be subject to a shower of RPG's and high-caliber bullets, each one strong enough to completely disintegrate a human body in less than five seconds.

He closed his eyes. "…go ahead," he hissed. "Go ahead and do it!"

Mako, Ai, and Mrs. Kurosawa smiled. A bright light engulfed Impmon, as his glowing form quickly grew to the size of a 20-foot humanoid. Mako and Ai held their digivice together, squinting at the light. "IMPMON, EVOLVE!"

Mr. Kurosawa put his fingers to his earset and contacted the snipers supporting them, requesting assistance from their digimon. Meanwhile, Falcomon flew up the side of the building, heading for the rooftops. His job called for stealth and quick strikes, especially now that his attacks only had a 50% processing rate.

Junas felt regret, feeling guilty for proceeding with the evolution of the monsters under his command ahead of time. Then he heard the Child of Courage's declaration.

"To all platoons, your tamers' digimon are hereby permitted to evolve, **if they haven't done so already**! Phase III has officially begun. We'll see each other at the DSI HQ! Yagami out."

* * *

Even Renamon heard the doors of salvation open. Though the flashbang failed to blind her, the grenade disoriented the yellow fox, attacking the fluids in her ears. She struggled to stand, adding more stress to her fatigued body. _I can't give up_, she repeated in her head. _I can't give up!_ Renamon's right hand was engulfed in the blue flames of _Touhakken._

.

Striking her pillar—her own cover—with her fist, she sent an enormous block of hollow concrete hurling towards the DSI soldiers coming in from her direction. Renamon fell down on her back as a result, but that did not deter her from brandishing the CheyTac Intervention in midair, aiming towards the corner Rika guarded upside-down. "I won't let you guys win," she whispered, moving the bolt before pulling the trigger. _Please don't let it be empty!_

It just so happened that the sniper rifle still had a bullet, the very last one in the clip. The Intervention boomed, delivering a large caliber bullet straight at the target, its armor-piercing and explosive components striking the wall and destroying it, erupting into lingering flames that held most of the soldiers in that direction at bay.

"Ri…ka," she sputtered, rearing her hind leg. Renamon kicked Rika towards the elevator. It was a rough sendoff, but it had to be done. _For your sake_, swore the yellow fox. "Go," she murmured.

But the girl did not leave. She recovered, regaining some of her senses. The tamer had reacquired a bit of her sight, and managed to push one of the elevator's buttons. "I-I," Rika croaked, "won't leave without you."

"Ri-ri… Rika," stammered Renamon.

"HURRY UP!" barked her tamer, brandishing her TMP.

At that outburst, Renamon's legs quivered as she mustered the strength to move. She picked up Rika's fallen shotgun, holstering the Intervention. The yellow fox staggered, heading for safety, still wary of her surroundings.

_Funny_, she noticed, firing two shotgun shells into a soldier coming from her left. Another man fell behind her ("Thanks, Rika."). _There's less of them coming here. _She could hear tons of gunfire from the rest of the floor. Even the helicopter's guns were operating. _What's going on out there?_

Renamon had no time to figure that out. Neither was she interested in doing so; whatever distracted the DSI helped them one way or another. The moment Renamon was within Rika's reach, human and digimon clutched each other's arms. Rika pulled her dear partner into safety, finally closing the doors.

Her concern over what distracted the DSI finally came to light, considering they weren't expecting any reinforcements at all. Was this third party friend or foe? Renamon was about to promulgate this observation when Rika started spamming the buttons on the elevator, deliberately avoiding the ground level.

Unfortunately, nothing worked. Renamon watched her shaking hand fall on the "G" button and push it softly. It responded with a dull glow, seconds before the elevator started its slow descent. "So we can't avoid it, huh," she muttered. "That obvious trap…"

The DSI had rigged the elevators to go **only** to the ground floor. Though the machine descended slowly, the fact remained it was slowly bringing Rika and Renamon to their doom. Rika Nonaka slumped on the floor, clutching her head. Renamon did the same, sitting opposite her tamer.

Getting hit by that flashbang almost killed them; it even prevented Rika from summoning the energy within to evolve Renamon to her Adult level. Now, it obstructed their minds from concocting a way to save themselves from the forces awaiting them.

A hatch on the ceiling gave away the most apparent method of avoiding the initial ambush. The question lingering in her head was, what were they going to do afterwards? The veterans won't be so stupid as to just leave it be. No, the smart thing to do would be to enter the elevator and shoot the ceiling, killing anybody trying to hide themselves the way they would do in Hollywood movies. Rika, Renamon figured, would probably tell her to preempt their attack by slaying these people, but how would that save her from the soldiers watching them?

Was evolution going to be the answer?

Renamon glanced at the lit number above the steel doors. They were on the seventh floor now. Six more until the awaited ambush. "Rika?" she spoke, checking if her tamer was still lucid.

"We're going up that hatch," Rika stated, glancing at it.

"You have a plan?" Renamon inquired, concerned about the anticipated events.

"We'll see."

Those two words confirmed it. There was no plan. Rika and Renamon's survival depended completely on luck, and their ability to adapt. The yellow fox stood. Her stance was still wobbly, but far better than earlier. She slid the hatch sideways, extending her gloved paw to her tamer.

* * *

The glorious light of evolution dissipated, releasing Impmon from its clasp. The little imp had grown tremendously, standing 20 feet tall. Impmon had grown black wings on his back, though they were tattered, with gaping holes here and there.

A horned mask covered his face from the nose up, his mischievous green eyes converted red by the evolution process. He roared, flexing his long, clawed hands. This digimon was no longer Impmon. "I AM DEVIMON!"

Devimon spread his wings and kicked off from the ground, flying to the platoon that dared strike his family from behind. He landed right between them, his black hands facing both platoons, palms out. Blasts of energy shot out from his open palms, engulfing both platoons and turning them into nothing more but ash and dust. "DEATH HAND!"

His next targets were the DSI garrison up ahead. He spread his wings and dove for the human soldiers fighting his family, but Junas's voice interrupted his descent.

"Devimon!" he instructed. "Take out the tanks and the deployed machine guns! They're the real threat! The family's got it covered!"

Devimon nodded, before regaining his altitude and soaring above the building, heading for the tanks. He charged his hands with unholy energy. A fully charged _Death Hand_ from the sky would be the perfect announcement of his arrival. _I will make you all FEAR ME!_ Digital evolution, after all, had an intoxicating effect.

* * *

Falcomon glanced down at the device Mrs. Kurosawa gave him. The nearest security nexi was close. A minute's worth of travel. He glanced back and found Impmon—Devimon—flying towards the DSI garrison Falcomon snuck past. Then he felt the presence of two entities right beside him. The owl directed his attention to them, and found a pair of Ninjamon running along with him: Pacman-shaped digimon with arms and legs, donning armor similar to those worn by ninjas. Falcomon could imagine the 3'6" sword sheathed on their backs were smeared with human blood.

His beak dropped when his eyes registered the sniper rifles slung on their backs along with their swords. "**You're** the sniper team?"

One of the Ninjamon nodded. The team was composed of two liberated digimon and two humans who had no digimon at all, yet supported the Digidestined's egalitarian cause. "Glad to see you're a ninja as well," words Falcomon found approving.

The security nexus was up ahead, a 20-foot tower of machinery located in an alley, guarded by two DSI squads. Falcomon crossed his arms. Bamboo tubes materialized in the tips of his wings. He leapt, soaring above the accursed machine. "UCHITAKE OTOSHI!" he released everything he carried, elated to see none of the tubes suddenly vanishing into data particles.

As he landed, Falcomon seized shurikens from inside his purple gi and hurled them at the startled DSI soldiers, only to watch them burst into data. "SHURIRIN—oh no!" He rolled away, anticipating reflexive gunfire.

It never came. The Ninjamon followed Falcomon seconds later, declaring their arrival by unsheathing their sharp swords and slicing each human victim in half. Shurikens were tossed. Falcomon even seized one of their guns and opened fire, striking his human targets. In less than thirty seconds, the first security nexus was destroyed. One look at the device in his possession and the ninja team knew they had several nexi left to take out.

* * *

"WAHAHAHAHA!" Devimon laughed cruelly. The sheer power of Impmon's Adult form was exhilarating. Plowing through two squads of human soldiers alike was exciting. The fallen angel was now covered in blood and oil, but that did not stop him from pursuing the deaths of his enemies. He stabbed a tank, puncturing its armor. "DEATH CLAW!"

However, one of the tanks managed to get a lock on Devimon, shooting him. Devimon was caught off-guard. "AGH" The projectile exploded, consuming Devimon. When the dust settled, Devimon was heavily wounded. He panted, feeling exhaustion. It was a fatigue shell!

"You'll pay for—" he was interrupted once more, this time by several rocket-propelled grenades from multiple soldiers. The deployed machine guns were gunning him down, each alternately loaded with fatigue bullets and whatever was used to add a 50% attack cancelling rate. Devimon flew, evading the DSI's counterattack. Invoking unholy energy in his hands once more, he prepared to level the entire street. "DEATH HAND!" This time, however, the attack sputtered, the energy blast disappearing completely. "Shit!"

Then the DSI's reinforcements came. It was an aerial attack. A helicopter swooped down from above, reinforcing the DSI's defense by shooting the digimon with military-grade missiles, severely wounding the Adult Devimon. It turned sideways, allowing the soldiers onboard to hit him further with machine guns. The digimon managed to outmaneuver some of their bullets, but those that managed to hit him generated so much pain it paralyzed him. "DEATH C—AGH!" instead of his attack processing, tremendous pain shot through his arms. Devimon fell to the ground.

The forces below prepared its finishing strikes. Three more Type 90's arrived, each one aiming their barrels at the paralyzed devil. DSI soldiers prepared their RPGs.

* * *

Falcomon and the two Ninjamon encountered severe problems as well. They had just taken out the last security nexus. However, all three were wounded, fleeing from the RPG's used by the veterans—each missile had a computer onboard that homed in on a digimon's digital signature. Two helicopters were chasing them, firing upon the ninja team. The large areas affected by the missiles made their agility moot.

Falcomon watched one of the Ninjamon trip on the roof while evading bullets from the chopper. A missile struck his body, dispersing his comrade into mere data. The second Ninjamon fell a minute later, killed by a sniper onboard one of the helicopters.

_Dammit, I'm the only one left!_ Falcomon flew, evading the DSI's gunfire. Not only had he been hit by the neutralizing bullets, but he had also been struck by the fatigue shots. Falcomon flew high into the sky before plummeting down towards the helicopters pursuing him in the air. _This is my last chance_, he thought, crossing his arms, materializing the bamboo tubes in them.

"UCHITAKE OTOSHI!" he hurled the bamboo tubes at the helicopter, praying hard they would explode upon contact. Lady Luck did not smile on him this time around. All the tubes he materialized vanished as soon as they left his hands, dispersing into data. A second helicopter piloted by one who kept an eye on his comrades ended Falcomon's life with several shots.

"I tried my best," coughed the owl, plummeting into oblivion. At the very least his body did not slam into the asphalt below, disintegrating completely. _So these… are the limits… of liberated digimon…_

* * *

Mrs. Kurosawa saw the firefight in the sky. She held back her tears, watching a burst of data dissipating into the air. Falcomon was dead. Whether he had support or not, he was dead. No amount of crying will bring him back.

The battle was far from over. Her own son suddenly sprinted away, heading into death's door. Devimon had been brought down by the DSI, and Makoto rushed to his aid before anyone in the family could stop in. "MAKO!" she shrieked. She didn't want to lose another. She started pursuing him, only to be stopped by her husband, Junas.

* * *

Makoto could not believe his eyes. An Adult digimon was **losing to the Digital Suppression Initiative**. Worse, it was a digimon of the same species that caused the Chosen Children so much trouble in their first adventure on File Island. How could such a powerful Adult level fall to these?

Mako's memories of Impmon were crystal clear. He and his sister received only one digivice, and one digimon. Mako and Ai fought over Impmon over and over again, to the extent the digimon absconded their home. They assumed him dead, only for the imp to return years later, apparently coerced by the digimon he met in the Digidestined.

Since then Mako and Ai learned to share. Since then, the three of them had had fun together. They've been living with Impmon for as long as they could remember. Though it was Impmon's duty as their digimon partner to protect them, Makoto and Ai saw him—and loved him—like a brother. One cannot turn his back on anybody they cared for, especially if it was one's beloved brother.

"DEVIMOOOONNN!" Makoto shouted. He sprinted towards the fallen angel before his parents or anyone else on their platoon could stop the teenager. _I won't lose you here!_ Mako Kurosawa snatched up a FAL from the ground and opened fire, emptying the clip inside. Though he has never used an assault rifle before, at the very least Mako inherited his father's sharpshooting skills.

Two DSI soldiers went down, one of them holding an RPG prepped to kill his digimon partner, his brother! Mako dropped his FAL and seized it, aiming the weapon at one of the Type 90's. Tears streamed down his eyes. He did not know how to reload it. He instinctively knew how to shoot it. Mako only had one shot. The teenager knelt and aimed the barrel of the firearm at the Type 90, even as the heavy machine guns were trained at him. _I'll save you!_

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Mako screamed, firing the missile at the Type 90 he targeted. In one second he fell, dead. Makoto Kurosawa's body was then shredded by multiple bullets from the heavy machine guns.

His younger sister screamed his name.

* * *

"MAKO!" thundered Devimon. He raged, rolling out of the tanks' direct line of fire. The explosions propelled the fallen angel towards one of the tanks. He bet his entire life on this one attack. "DEATH CLAW!" The attack succeeded, his sharp claws piercing the Type 90's armor and slaughtering all men within.

Devimon aimed both hands at the helicopter. "DEATH HAND!" he screamed, but no energy burst forth. The attack had been cancelled, and in its place was pain like no other. Devimon **refused to let it paralyze him**. It had cost him a family member, and there was no effing way he was going to let the pain take another beloved away!

DSI soldiers redirected their guns on him, opening fire. He could see one of the tanks rolling forward, its barrel aimed at the side of a nearby building. _They must've detected the snipers!_ He tried to stop the Type 90, but the helicopter protected the vehicles, while the soldiers went on the offensive, charging with the tank.

"NO!"

* * *

Ai shuddered in the corner, inside the convenience store. Her father broke into it, destroying the door, urging her and her mother to stay out of harm's way. It was a man's job to keep his family safe. "Protect Ai at all costs," Junas told her mom.

People were dying around her. Everyone of them an important part of the family. Hirofumi was dead. Her own brother was dead. Somehow she could even tell that Falcomon had died too—one look at her mother's face confirmed it all. Worse, a thundering explosion and the sounds of rubble falling meant the tanks had unloaded several bullets at the buildings. Obviously they had discovered the snipers' nest. Ai knew one of her playmates was among the two left behind.

Devimon was their only hope left. Yet he wasn't strong enough. "Please save us, Devimon," she whimpered. "Save us."

"Save us," she kept on repeating. Mrs. Kurosawa tried to quell the stress consuming her daughter, but Ai did not listen. She kept on repeating those two words, feeling utter despair cling to her heart. She heard the groan of her father as he was struck by a bullet. It didn't sound like a fatal blow, but sooner or later it might as well have been. "Save us… please…"

"I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO DIE!" Ai Kurosawa shrieked. At that outburst of emotion, her digivice glowed bright. The street outside was lit up, the source of light coming from Devimon's direction.

* * *

Devimon felt Ai's emotions surging through him. It was not the malicious feeling of anger. It was one of despair, of one trying to pin all hopes on him. It was a warm emotion infused with the desire to survive, the desire to help others and prevent needless deaths.

Vigor returned to the fallen angel; the light of evolution enveloped him in its glory once more. Power returned to Devimon, but it was power unlike anything he had ever felt before. As he evolved he felt clammy and cold, like he was incomplete, and never will be. Makoto's death would forever be imprinted in his memory, and it was one he will relive again and again in the future: a bleak reminder of how loved he was by the Kurosawas.

_It's like half of my soul is gone_, he reckoned. The light of evolution released the digimon once more. In the hands of this former Devimon was a pair of shotguns. Garbed in leather pants and jacket, he stood. The new monster aimed his guns at the helicopter above. He did not even notice the red handkerchief tied to his left arm. Neither did he realize it was the very one he used as a bandana in his Child form.

Both guns fired rapidly. There was no need to reload them. The bullets struck their target, destroying the helicopter in only shot. As the aerial vehicle fell on top of two squads of soldiers and exploded violently, the digimon finally realized his name. _Beelzemon_. He was a digimon of the highest level, and even then he was one of the strongest among them: a Demon Lord.

Beelzemon dashed towards the tanks, his speed significantly increased. He reared his steel-toed boot—it had three sharp blades on it—and kicked the Type 90 in front of him. The vehicle flew farther into the street. That was not enough to quell the bubbling rage within the digimon. _This is for Mako!_ "DOUBLE IMPACT!" His guns fired once more, and the battle tank erupted into an explosion that turned its operators into nothing but paste and scorched flesh.

Some of the DSI soldiers double-backed when they heard their comrades' destruction. They deployed their machine guns and started firing. Others even focused their RPG fire on Beelzemon. The Demon Lord vanished, running so fast he was barely visible to the naked, human eye. His hands equipping clawed gauntlets, Beelzemon raised his hand and sliced every DSI soldier around him in one 360° swipe. "DARKNESS CLAW!"

Beelzemon overheard Junas's order. "EVERYONE, CHARGE!"

He knew an Ultimate-level could not be stopped so easily, even by the veterans and their anti-digimon weapons. Beelzemon did not hold back his snicker. "Just don't get in my way!" he growled.

The Demon Lord took point, leading the platoon. The feeling of incompleteness lingering in his soul, Beelzemon swore he would protect Ai even if it cost him his life, the way Makoto gave his own to protect him.

* * *

_Ting._

Renamon did not completely close the hatch, simply narrowing the opening as much as possible instead to ensure she and Rika could keep an eye on the inside. After all, people weren't as stupid as the actors in movies.

Rika motioned for Renamon to keep things quiet, readying her AA-12 as soon as the double doors opened.

Silence dominated the air. They waited for the enemy to enter, her gun on the ready. At the very least she wasn't going to get killed by a bunch of soldiers aiming their guns at the ceiling.

Five seconds passed.

Ten.

Fifteen.

The double doors closed.

Rika and Renamon looked at each other, making eye contact. Rika's purple eyes had the same, quizzical stare found on Renamon's azure blue. They gazed down again, waiting for the doors to open once more.

A tension-filled minute passed. Still, nothing happened. Rika relaxed a bit, heaving a sigh. "Looks like we're safe, Renamon." There was no trap, as earlier feared.

The yellow fox also loosened up, relaxing a bit in the elevator shaft. Sure, it was almost devoid of light, but at the very least, it gave them some time to kick back and relax a bit, something they needed after the whole ordeal on the 35th floor.

They rested for a full five minutes before Rika decided it was time to move on. After all, whether there was an ambush or not, there were still DSI soldiers upstairs. Sooner or later they'd catch up to them, even figuring out where they were. Getting caught with nowhere to run was a bad situation, and staying in the elevator exposed them to that.

"Renamon, scout the area outside," Rika said. "We're not out of danger yet."

"Yeah," she acquiesced, sliding the hatch open and jumping down. The elevator rocked slightly upon landing, though Renamon ensured her descent was as graceful and silent as possible. Rika watched her push the "open" buttom. The double doors split in two, revealing the way out.

The redheaded tamer expected shouting, even gunfire. Instead, Renamon gasped, her surprise loud enough for her to hear. "Rika," she rasped. "You may want to see this."

Rika Nonaka slung the shotgun Renamon returned to her and dropped down into the elevator, staggering a bit when she landed. The flashbang unsettled her sense of balance, but spending ten minutes doing nothing helped relax her body and regain her senses.

Her purple eyes averted in Renamon's decision. She, too, failed to stifle a gasp of her own.

.

.

Before her were corpses. Corpses of DSI soldiers, every single one of them veterans. The cadavers were mangled, their body parts strewn everywhere. Blood minutes old literally covered the floor. Renamon let out a snort of disgust when her bare feet touched the burgundy liquid.

As they went their way through the lobby, Rika had one question lingering in her head. "Who could've done this?" she said, completely dazed, Signs of an intense, yet losing battle were everything. Bullet holes were scattered across the walls. Shards of broken glass and other ornaments were littered in the corners.

Then Renamon spoke up, revealing a piece of information she withheld during their descent to the ground floor. "When I was running to the elevator," she recounted, "fewer soldiers were attacking us, but the gunfire echoing in the halls were, were very intense. I even heard the helicopter's mounted guns firing."

* * *

Taichi Yagami's rush through the closed-off streets of Shinjuku played to his favor. Greymon took care of any oncoming tanks and helicopters with his _Mega Flame_. Turuiemon handled any incoming soldiers, along with their sandbag blockades.

The charge was not effortless, still, as the five humans—Taichi, Miki, Yuuji, and the two owners—covered both the front and rear, killing off anybody who survived the lethal combination that was Greymon and Turuiemon. Muchomon was starting to feel better, and it was only a matter of time before he, too, would evolve and fight.

Three blocks from their next to street, several tanks came from the left, almost striking Greymon had he not been alert enough to backpedal a few steps. Three helicopters surrounded them. Soldiers had apparently garrisoned the nearby buildings, deploying heavy machine guns. Cannon fodder—less-experienced men—were at the very front in squads of grenadiers and riflemen.

"Greymon," barked the Child of Courage. "We need some cover!"

"Right," grunted Greymon. The orange dinosaur reached into a nearby building and **ripped off the wall**, slamming it down on the concrete, creating large blocks of rock Taichi's squad could use as cover.

A tank managed to shoot Greymon, its shell exploding in his face. The dinosaur came out of it with blood dripping down his mouth. Greymon roared, hawking an enormous fireball and spitting it at the tank. "MEGA FLAME!"

The helicopters began to act, flying towards Greymon, striking him down with high-caliber bullets loaded with fatigue-causing components.

"Turuiemon," ordered Yuuji, ducking under cover to reload his AK-47. "Chop those helicopters in half!"

While the purple rabbit did as he was ordered to, the five humans took their positions and gunned down the incoming soldiers, advancing little by little. Taichi noticed their surroundings had become "digital" once more. This time he was able to discern meters away, on the sidewalk, a small machine just sitting there, yet guarded by two squads. Common sense told him it was the source!

He glanced at their digimon. Turuiemon was already getting cuts from the bullets scratching his body. The Child of Courage watched the purple rabbit take down one helicopter out of three, slicing off its tail. It then leapt off the falling vehicle, aiming for the second helicopter with its bladed gauntlets. "GANTORETTO!" it screamed, lunging downwards, only to be paralyzed by sudden pain and fall to the ground below.

Greymon was in a similar situation. The orange dinosaur was getting tired after being the target of so many fatigue bullets. He attempted to cough up another _Mega Flame_, but this time the attack just burst harmlessly the moment Greymon spat it out. _It was cancelled!_

"Ow!" A bullet grazed Yuuji's arm. Taichi watched him convulse in pain when he tried to retaliate. It took three attempts before his counterattacks were finally underway! _It's like Yuuji's attack was cancelled too._ Bullets struck Taichi as well, but the cloak he wore protected him so well none of the debilitating conditions they endowed on their victims were passed on to the Chosen Child.

The elder Yagami knew one thing had to be done. For all intents and purposes, every combatatant within a set region was within a bounded digital field. Anything in here would be subjected to the same laws of physics ascribed to by the Digital World. In other words, so long as this field existed, both humans and digimon…

…_are digital!_ He turned to Miki. "Miki, we need to destroy that object!" Taichi pointed at the well-guarded machine in the back. "Is Muchomon up for it?"

The tropical bird answered for her. "Yes!"

"I'm counting on you."

Muchomon's tamer nodded. She held out her digivice, invoking the light of evolution upon her partner. "MUCHOMON, EVOLVE!"

* * *

When the light of evolution left Muchomon, the tropical bird had evolved into a giant chicken as tall as Greymon, towering thirty feet over the battlefield. Its tail feathers spread out from the rear, each one crimson-tipped.

The chicken digimon shrieked and charged for the target.

"Go, Cockatrimon!" chanted Miki. "Kill those DSI bastards!"

In response, Cockatrimon's scarlet eyes began glowing, moments later releasing bloodred beams that spread across the battlefield, engulfing squads of soldiers. "PETRIFIER!" Every DSI personnel caught in it was turned to stone, lifeless statues not only torn down with every step the giant chicken took but also defiled by Taichi's squad, who used these former humans as cover against the rest.

_There it is!_ Cockatrimon discerned the target. He spread his wings and flapped them, increasing his speed. The digimon shot past the garrisoned buildings, running his razor-sharp blue-tipped wings through them. "FEATHER CUTTER!" the structures crumbled down, landing on the tanks with enough force to crush the vehicles and squash anyone within. Anyone who survived, well, wouldn't be getting out for the next few days.

Cockatrimon was immediately upon the target, destroying the machine with one ferocious stomp. Any soldier caught in it was mashed into paste. Those who survived had to deal with Taichi's squad.

Multiple explosions erupted on Cockatrimon's chest, forcing him to stagger back. Three tanks were left. They left a gaping wound on the digimon's torso. One more coordinated strike like that and he would be deleted. Even the giant chicken knew this.

He attempted to retreat, but for some reason the digimon was so overcome with fatigue he could not muster the energy to flee. _Crap!_

* * *

Turuiemon recovered from his plight and managed to strike down the second helicopter. Instead of taking out the third helicopter as normal, this time he decided to **hijack** it, sticking near the cockpit, clinging to it. _If attacking doesn't work…_

The purple rabbit found the rim of the door to the left of the pilot and tore it open, seizing the pilot and tossing him into the concrete meters below. Any soldier inside were dispatched with one swift kick out of the vehicle. Turuiemon finished the job by leaping to the nearby building and ricocheted from it, somersaulting and landing a solid kick down the center of its rotors. Obviously, the vehicle plunged down on the people who were callously thrown down, disposing of them.

Meanwhile, Greymon noticed Cockatrimon's predicament and responded with another _Mega Flame_, one that was executed successfully. With all three tanks practically beside each other, the power of the fireball engulfed all three and destroyed them.

* * *

Taichi pumped his fist. "Hell yeah!" he cheered triumphantly. Three Adult digimon were kicking ass, and the feeling of imminent victory was consuming the Child of Courage from the inside. Already the elder Yagami could see their turn, even if was four blocks away. Once they turn on that street, it would be one long straightaway to the DSI headquarters. Somewhere along the road will be the point of convergence for all three platoons.

Greymon, Cockatrimon, and Turuiemon did not devolve after the earlier skirmish. They remained as they were, keeping an eye out for their tamers and the two owners with them.

"Hey, Taichi," Miki accosted. "What's the status of the other platoons?"

"I'm working on it," he dismissed, asking Yuuji to lend him his earset again. "You worried?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"We've got digimon on our side," the Chosen Child grinned. "Whatever the DSI brings, we'll easily crush 'em! You **did** see how well we took down that last roadblock."

"They _didn't_ expect three Adult levels, you know," stated Yuuji matter-of-factly, attempting to uproot Taichi's confidence early before it became too dangerous.

"True," he agreed. "Still, I got a couple of trump cards left up my sleeve. Anyway…"

Taichi Yagami first reached out to Rika Nonaka. Unfortunately, she was not responding, no matter how many times he called out. The next in line was Yuuko Urameshi.

"Yuuko!" he called. "Yuuko! Can you hear me?"

It took a while before he finally got a response. "T-Taichi?"

"It's me. What's the sitch?" he queried. "You holding up?"

"I wish," she admitted. "Alpha's the only squad left. I've had Revolmon evolve to SuperStarmon, but even that didn't work. One digimon against a bunch of soldiers. One way or another he'll be down in a few minutes, especially with all these shit the DSI's handing us!"

_She already pulled out her trump card? _Gasped Taichi. "Will you need my help?"

Instead of a reply, Yuuko shrieked "SATOMI!" and abruptly cut the line.

"Yuuko?"

"Yuuko?"

"YUUKO!"

Three times. No response.

Taichi was so close to the straightaway. He gazed back, towards the trail of rubble they left in their advance. _We'll have to go—_Taichi's thoughts were interrupted.

"T-Taichi," buzzed Urameshi's voice. "Where exactly are you right now?"

"We're at the straightaway," the elder Yagami responded. "Look, that's not important. We're heading back for you right—"

"NO!" snubbed Yuuko. "Stay right where you are! Don't you **dare** pull out," she coughed. "If you retreat now, it will be a gross injustice—an effing insult!—to everyone's brave sacrifice. **My** brave sacrifice."

"Y-Yuuko, what the hell are you talking ab… bout…" that's when he finally noticed. Yuuko's labored breathing. SuperStarmon's hysterical screams. Explosions nearby. The night sky was brightly lit by something in the west. Then the Child of Courage heard her last breath. "Taichi, never forget those who died here. Never… never forget me."

SuperStarmon's panicked voice boomed. "YUUUUUUKKKOOOOOOOO!"

And the line was gone.

Taichi gazed at his comrades' faces.

"She's dead." Everyone was stunned. Yuuko was a very skilled fighter, and her digimon was an adept combatant, especially against multiple opponents. Similar to Greymon and the monsters on his evolutionary line.

_Junas, I hope you're okay. _Taichi felt guiltier for the Kurosawas over Yuuko. While Urameshi went with him on her own accord, the Chosen Child had to persuade the family. On top of it, he promised he wouldn't let them die so easily, that their sacrifices, if it came to that, would amount to something.

"Tai, Taichi?" he heard Junas speak.

"It's me," Taichi replied, handing him the same lines. "What's the sitch? You holding up?"

"Barely," Mr. Kurosawa reported, informing him about the events that had passed, mentioning the deaths of Hirofumi Shiota, and his beloved son, Makoto. Their deaths put Ai under so much stress and despair, she released her unpent emotions in such a way it evolved Devimon—Impmon's Adult form—all the way to Beelzemon, an Ultimate level.

Before Taichi could comment on it, the head of the household cautioned, "Beelzemon's alone. He's the only digimon we got left. It's only Tadashi, my wife, my daughter, and myself now. But the DSI isn't letting up." The Chosen Child knew what that meant: even a Demon Lord as strong as Beelzemon would eventually fall.

"Beelzemon's been fighting non-stop, Taichi. He's been in the frontlines ever since he evolved and I **know** all the bullets hitting him now will have a compounding effect sooner or later. We really need—" The line was cut. Battle had ensued, and no amount of yelling into the earset would help.

Taichi continued walking, towards the turn. Yuuji and Miki were beginning to wonder if this meant they had to pull back. The digimon were against it, saying people have already died for them. Retreating would be an insult to their memory, Turuiemon held.

"_Don't you __**dare**__ pull out. If you retreat now, it will be a gross injustice—an effing insult!—to everyone's brave sacrifice."_

_Damn, what should I do? _Pondered Taichi. He was caught in a tough situation there. His instincts told him to pull back and bail out the Kurosawas, but the combat-experienced side of him adamantly insisted that he push through, for rescuing a friend in need would undo the sacrifices they have made and give the DSI time to regroup and strengthen their core defenses. _What should I do?_

As they finally turned to the straightaway, all thoughts of whether Taichi should bail out the Kurosawas vanished. The reason for that was not surprising: numerous corpses were strewn across the asphalt. The nearby surroundings resembled a heavily-scarred battlefield.

The corpses were all mangled. Many were dismembered. There was literally a film of blood covering the road. Wreckages of a few tanks were present, still burning. Obviously the straightaway was a choke point the DSI intended to defend against Taichi's party. The Chosen Child could tell the carnage and destruction was still fresh, occurring during their earlier advance.

* * *

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**EDIT (15 Jan 2011). Mid-chapter author's note special! Since people are privately COMPLAINING about the massive word count in this chapter, I'm giving readers a breather by identifying the midpoint of this chapter, which is, well... where you're at right now. I hope I don't have to do this again... .**

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* * *

"Are you saying someone helped us?"

Renamon hesitated to answer. "…I don't know," she finally replied.

"Well, it seems like—" Something snapped in the corner ahead, in one of the hallways leading to the exit. It sounded like bones being crushed violently.

The tamer and her digimon remained alert. "Hello?" Rika decided to speak. "Anyone… there?"

Renamon could feel something was just beyond the corner. But, she didn't like what she was feeling. The strands of her fur were erect. The presence she felt wasn't warm; it was hard to describe, but it was something… alien. Her sharp ears heard its footsteps echo in the hallway, moving towards them.

Rika was about to speak again, but this time Renamon seized her upper arm and clenched it gently: a subtle gesture to remain silent. It also meant the digimon found the whole thing suspicious, considering the way the "obvious trap" the DSI set up was handled.

Then their "savior" appeared.

It wasn't a human.

It was a creature. A monster of some sort.

On the surface it seemed very reptilian; dragonic, even. The creature's skin was as smooth as a baby alligator's. It was as large as a small horse, its head resembling a snake's. The pair watched the beast sniff the ground and take a dismembered arm from the ground… and devour it, chewing the body part so thoroughly blood covered its mouth. Its jagged teeth were just as scarlet.

Renamon could smell the dried blood smeared all over the creature's muscular, jet-black body. There were some marks on the skin that clearly told the fox this beast had been fired upon by the DSI, yet it had no wounds at all.

"Renamon," clutching her digivice, Rika whispered. "Is this… is this a digimon?"

That was a question the yellow fox wanted to avoid altogether. Any digimon could tell the difference from humans and digimon by hindsight, even more so when certain facts came to light. Renamon's nose and eyes told her one thing: whatever they were looking at, whatever assisted them, was **not** a digimon.

"No."

Then the creature finally detected their presence. It turned to them, staring at both Rika and Renamon with its eyes, a pair of black orbs. The eyeballs themselves were black. Renamon heard it snarl. She did **not** like the sound of that.

Then this beast, this lizard, pounced, rushing towards the tamer and her digimon. Rika was the first to attack, unloading several shotgun shells at it. Renamon was startled to see the pellets simply bounce off the monster, leaving no traces of impact. It opened its maw—did she just see a thumb in-between the jagged teeth?—and made an attempt to chomp down on her tamer. "Not if I can help it!"

Renamon pushed Rika out of harm's way. She, too, dodged. The beast acknowledged Renamon's skill and targeted her first, but as it began galloping towards the fox, Renamon had already charged a fairly large amount of crystal shards. The fatigue bullets, apparently, wear off after some time. "Full charge, KOYOSETSU!" she whipped her arms out, releasing the accumulated shards.

The entire cloud struck the creature head-on. Renamon's piercing blue eyes widened in complete astonishment as she watched **every crystal shard bounce off ****uselessly**. "Impossible!"

Her opponent was upon her! Renamon ducked out of the way, but the beast rammed his head into Renamon's belly and raised its front leg, intending to cut the fox open. A strong bullet struck the beast's head from the side, knocking it away before it could do any harm. Renamon glanced at Rika's direction, seeing in her hands the M21 EBR sniper rifle. "Thanks," said the fox, giving her tamer a thumbs-up.

But it wasn't over.

The black-skinned reptile roared angrily, charging Renamon. This time the yellow fox was ready; her hands were engulfed in blue flames. She avoided the beast's initial lunge and struck the side of its head. "TOUHAKKEN!" the creature fell to the side again, incurring a **shallow wound**. _How durable is this thing?_

She didn't have time to think. Howls echoed through the entire lobby, and two more beasts of the same species came racing, saliva and human blood dripping from their mouths. From two it became three, then four.

Then five.

Then six.

There were now **seven of these things** entering the lobby, all of them aiming to devour both Rika and Renamon. Even more howls can be heard in the distance. _There's a lot more coming!_ "RIKA!" Renamon shouted. "We have to get out of here!"

The tamer was one step ahead of her. After surviving a high-caliber shot **and** a _Touhakken_-strengthened punch to the head with little harm, it was clear these creatures were not only alien, but also extremely hostile and dangerous. Escape was necessary! "RENAMON, EVOLVE!"

These creatures were stunned by the light of evolution, hesitating, at least until the glorious lght regurgitated what was once Renamon into reality: a nine-tailed fox whose paws and tail-tips were constantly lit by blue flames. She now had a candy-cane colored rope tied around her neck like a bow, both ends enclosed by golden bells.

"KYUUBIMON!" yelled Rika, announcing the nine-tails' attack. "ONIBIDAMA!"

* * *

_What happened he—_a bloodcurdling scream filled the air. Gunshots rang out, coming from a nearby alley. A DSI veteran appeared, his attention directed to something pursuing him. He did not pay attention to the Child of Courage and his party, instead continuing his flight, running for dear life.

A black shadow pounced from the alley, landing on the screaming man and devouring him in seconds. The moonlight gave the creature away: a black-skinned reptile the size of a small horse, whose head resembled a snake's to an extent.

The squad watched it rip through the man's body and consume it. Miki, Yuuji, and the two owners were absolutely disgusted. Taichi was wary, asking Greymon if it was a digimon.

Unlike Renamon before him the Digimon of Courage gave his tamer an uncertain reply. In moments the beast before them detected their presence and snarled, obviously hostile. Before anyone of them could act, the monster made its move, dashing across the corpse-laden battlefield and sprung at one of the owners, specifically the one who was wounded and treated with first aid.

The creature dug into his body and started mauling him, ripping his body to shreds. In the first three seconds the man was screaming, but as time passed his voice disappeared. Meanwhile, the remaining four focused their fire on the beast, but none of their weapons worked.

Greymon and Cockatrimon were going to act, but Turuiemon beat them to it, slashing at the otherworldly creature with such force it would've cleaved a battle tank in half. Instead the monster was blown away into the air. Turuiemon was startled. "Only a shallow cut!"

Taichi overheard this and acted immediately. "Greymon! MEGA FLAME, fully charged!"

"Way ahead of you!" the orange dinosaur spat out the ball of fire, which exploded upon collision.

The attack destroyed the creature, but how it was deleted surprised Taichi. Instead of dissipating into data—characteristic of a digimon—the beast simply burst into a black mist that dispersed into the air. What were these things? Why were they attacking both the Digidestined and the Digital Suppression Initiative? Where did they even come from?

Further rumination from this first contact was halted by familiar howls and snarls surrounding them. Taichi's hazel eyes caught many more leaping from the rooftops down to the street. Some galloped from the nearby alleys, a limited number gulping down limbs severed from the fleeing DSI veterans.

Few of them were even formed out of nothingness, materializing before his very eyes. In mere moments they were surrounded by this mysterious third party, and they were coming!

Taichi's response was nothing but serious. Since it took the combined efforts of Greymon and Turuiemon to take even **one** out, not to mention they were nigh-invulnerable to gunfire—the AK-47's and the M240—the Child of Courage opted for the first of his trump cards. "Let's take it a notch higher!"

Miki and Yuuji nodded, knowing exactly what that meant. All three held out their digivices, invoking the light of evolution.

"Greymon…"

"Turuiemon…"

"Cockatrimon…"

In unison, "EVOLVE!"

While the light took over their partners and changed their forms, Taichi noticed something peculiar: the reptiles, lizards, or whatever they were called, were repulsed by the light, hesitating to attack. _Hmm…_

Greymon had grown several more feet in size, developing frattered purple wings that enabled flight. The evolution process apparently converted the orange dinosaur into a cyborg, if it wasn't apparent from his left arm and chest plate. And for some reason, evolution also gave the digimon red hair. Taichi couldn't even figure out why that was so, but never bothered with such a useless question.

MetalGreymon's first act was to rear his robotic, left arm and make a 270° swipe, pushing back most of the creatures attacking them before they could even harm either his partner or his comrades. A few even dispersed into black mist, receiving a direct hit from his arm's sharp trident-like claws.

A pack of four monstrous beasts leapt from the room, attempting to latch onto MetalGreymon's back and distract him from the others. A rabbit as tall as Greymon leapt from Turuiemon's light of evolution and gyrated on its own center multiple times, arms fully extended and transformed into sharp-edged axes.

The move repelled the pack, slicing them up. Andiramon landed on the concrete next to MetalGreymon. In a way Andiramon resembled Lopmon. Not only was he the same color as Lopmon, but he also sported the same three horns on his forehead. Unlike his Child form, however, Andiramon wore clothes, one befitting an exalted beast.

Emerging from Cockatrimon's position was another chicken—a rooster. The digimon had shrunk somewhat, its feathers turning brown. Two beasts tried to attack the tamers from their blind spot, but Sinduramon got in their way, the creatures' heads striking his blue, spherical armor. Fortunately, they were not strong enough to destroy it.

Sinduramon flicked them away with a wave of his wing. The twin-ended pestle on his back radiated seconds before bolts of intense lightning struck the beasts, paralyzing both.

The three Ultimate digimon guarded the four of them. Taichi gazed down at the fallen owner. He knelt down and closed the man's eyes. _I'm sorry_, he internally apologized. He reloaded the light machine gun and cocked it.

And not a moment too soon. The beasts were relentless in the attack, and the digimon protected them vigorously. One of the monsters penetrated MetalGreymon's defense, hurling itself towards Taichi Yagami. "Holy shit!" he yelled, feeling the monster pin him to the ground. The red chrome digizoid laced in his cloak protected him, but only slightly; the reptile's claws slightly pierced through the metal, clearly indicating the strength and power of these creatures.

"Taichi!" yelled his comrades, trying to gun down the creature. All bullets were bouncing off. The digimon were too busy protecting the group. Sinduramon retracted his entire body into his spherical armor and rolled towards Taichi's aids, but he was too far.

Taichi's attacker reared its head, widely opening its maw. "AGH!" Taichi panicked, aiming the LMG up into the monster's fast-approaching mouth. He held the trigger. Several bullets struck the monster, and in less than a second enough shots struck the roof of its mouth to the extent they penetrated into the beast's skull. The monster dispersed, slain.

The Chosen Child got up slowly, aided by Miki. "Taichi! You alright?"

"Y-yeah," he replied, shaken from the near-death experience. More importantly, however, he had uncovered a significant weakness. Figuring Mr. Kurosawa (and Rika, for that matter, if she was still alive) also encountered these mysterious, hostile beasts, Taichi borrowed Miki's earset and announced his discovery.

"FIRE ON THEIR INSIDES!"

Though the Perfects continued their defense, Yuuji overheard this and adjusted his tactics accordingly. During the rather intense fight he asked aloud, "What do we do about Kurosawa, Taichi?"

The Child of Courage's eyes averted to him. "We're splitting into two!"

* * *

Beelzemon had detected the presence of these creatures early on. They were appearing behind enemy lines, ambushing the DSI first before taking out anything else that moved. The Demon Lord managed to sneak a minute's worth of observation, noting their invulnerability to conventional weaponry. Explosions only hurt them slightly. "Whatever those things are," he pointed at the weapons Tadashi and the Kurosawas carried, "your weapons are useless."

Then it came.

An absurdly strong presence. It had a profound chill to it, something akin to pure evil. It was Beelzemon's first time to feel killing intent, and suffice to say, it was an intense experience. He knew where it came from; the Demon Lord stared up towards the roof of what was once the Tokyo Women's University & Hospital.

His three eyes caught a glimpse of a person staring down at them. Someone who was in no danger at all. There was something about that person's presence: it was menacing. It was also **condescending**. Beelzemon was right about to shoot at him (or her) with his own guns when Mrs. Kurosawa screamed.

Beelzemon found one of the beasts galloping towards the Kurosawas. He trained his guns on it and opened fire, killing the beast in one shot. _Looks like Ultimate-levels stand a chance here_, smirked the Demon Lord. He gazed up once more, but this time the person had disappeared completely, without a trace.

With only one digimon protecting a group, the mysterious beasts started attacking them from all sides. "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" yelled Beelzemon, gunning several down when one snuck to him from the side and chomped down his left arm. "ARGH!"

* * *

Junas Kurosawa led his family further northwest, fleeing from the bizarre hostiles pursuing them. Mrs. Kurosawa no longer held her weapon, instead dragging Ai by the hand. Tadashi Katou had her M240 instead, and he was vainly trying to repel the monsters.

Beelzemon followed, but with so many of these, these… things, there was no way he could possibly follow and protect them at the same time. He watched the Demon Lord destroy a few, seeing the beasts dissolve into black mists. Junas realized, _these are __**not**__ digimon._

"Eek!" Hearing his own wife scream, he turned towards her direction, finding her finger pointed towards their next destination. Glancing that way, Mr. Kurosawa found something startling: three of these beasts were forming right in front of them, from nothing! No portals, no gates to another world, nothing: only black mist.

The three of them attacked. Junas could only do what he could as a diligent father: tackling his wife and child out of harm's way. They rolled on the pavement and got up as soon as possible, running away. When Mr. Kurosawa heard Tadashi's screaming, that's when he fully grasped what happened: the three beasts seeking to devour them focused their attention on Tadashi instead.

The Kurosawas ran. Tears streamed from Junas's eyes. He didn't like the way Tadashi died. It was far worse, far less undignified, than Hirofumi's, or Makoto's. _Why is this happening?_ His mind shrieked. Why were these things here? Why were they attacking? Where did they come from?

Then they reached a dead-end. Junas took the wrong turn and led his family to their grave. He veered back to correct this mistake, but he was too late, one of them caught up to the Kurosawas and started dashing.

_T-this is it!_ He gripped his FAL, training the gun on the monster. It was a useless action, but he did so anyway.

His earset crackled into life. "FIRE ON THEIR INSIDES!" Taichi was howling on the line.

The black reptile opened its mouth. Instinctively Junas knew what Taichi meant; he opened fire on the monster, aiming at the head, the open mouth. Seven bullets stopped the monster in its track, with the next five piercing its heavily-battered maw, killing it. The beast vanished, bursting into a black mist.

"L-Let's get out of here…"

"Junas!" It was Taichi once more. "Where are you?"

"A few blocks from the former Tokyo Women's University & Hospital," he managed to spurt. "T-Taichi, you, you saved us with that advice of yours. If you were a few seconds late…"

"Forget about it," replied the Child of Courage. "Yuuji and I are coming. Head for the International Medical Center! We'll regroup there!

"Junas, don't worry. I'll get you and your family out of this, I promise. Even if it's the last thing I'll ever do."

* * *

Yagami's party split up into two. Taichi and Yuuji made a detour to the International Medical Center, accompanied only by Andiramon.

"I can't just let you go out there!" protested MetalGreymon. It was understandable.

"It's alright," Taichi reassured him. "We've got Andiramon."

The Chosen Child stared up at his partner's Perfect form. "But, Taichi! I must protect you!"

"We must also advance," the Child of Courage countered. "I will **not** let the Kurosawas die. Neither will I waste everyone else's sacrifice." He gazed at the DSI HQ. It was so close. "We'll meet up with the Kurosawas at the International Medical Center then we'll catch up to you."

That was Taichi for you, thought the Digimon of Courage. Once he set his mind on something, he wasn't going to back down on it, especially when it involved the lives of his friends. That was one of the things that set him apart as **the** leader of the Twelve. The late Daisuke Motomiya also had these qualities down to a pat. _Though he would've probably disagreed with the splitting up_, mused the orange dinosaur.

Nervously, MetalGreymon acquiesced to Taichi's adamant request and let him pass. He didn't like this plan, but put his faith into his partner regardless. Left with Miki, Sinduramon, and an owner, the group of three slowly advanced. With one less digimon and humans on their ranks, it became harder to defend them. A lot harder.

The Digimon of Courage could discern quite a few materializing from black mist. _How many of them are there?_ Wondered MetalGreymon. _If this keeps up…_ he didn't think about it anymore. The odds were too depressing.

* * *

Taichi and Yuuji went, accompanied by only Andiramon. The russet Perfect's ability to turn his arms into axes and his innate strength allowed him to defend against most of these bizarre opponents. However, with only one main fighter, they were easily swarmed and many of the lizards broke past Andiramon's defenses, lunging straight for his tamer and the Child of Courage.

Still, knowing the weakness of these things made the defense easier. These beasts **almost always** had their mouth open when they attacked. Yuuji was being approached by three of these monsters, while he was having trouble locking in on just one.

Taichi assisted him, firing on the other two for a couple of seconds before circling back just in time to kill one that would've jumped on him had he been a moment too late. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, somewhat relieved his hair was no longer the afro it used to be—the elder Yagami hated it whenever he played football in school. Not only did he get effin' ugly helmet hair (for which he was always teased about), but also the sweat and grime made his hairstyle quite uncomfortable.

Along the way the small group ran into surviving blocks of DSI veterans. They, too, were being swarmed. Their defenses were being overwhelmed. Tanks had the same effect as an Adult digimon: little damage. Same for the deployed machine guns, but only if they were focusing fire on a few for a prolonged period of time. Soldiers were dropping one after another, devoured alive by these beasts. Some of them climbed up the nearby buildings' walls and pounced on the helicopters with little regard for their safety, grounding the vehicle from their weight.

Taichi also observed immense strength. He saw one strike a tank several times using its front leg alone, breaking into the armor fairly easily. Even one pounce could kill! Taichi was suddenly thankful for the coat he wore. _At least Chrome Digizoid could protect me somewhat._

Yuuji, Taichi, and Andiramon walked away from this fighting, exploiting the diversion the DSI generously provided for them. _Their bodies will be good for scavenging later on_, the Chosen Child mused. It was a morbid thought; Taichi held no sympathy for his enemies.

When the International Medical Center came into view, Taichi heard the beasts' distinct howl. Yuuji cursed. "Goddammit!" Taichi gyrated and found blood dripping off his hand—his friend had just lost his pinky finger. One of the black beasts stood before him, meters away: an easy distance.

Taichi did not hesitate to shoot its head, hoping it will just open its mouth and die. More of these things appeared and attacked, but their front was paved open by Andiramon—the rabbit was receiving wounds as well; there were times when he was utterly vulnerable to attacks.

"Run and shoot!" barked Taichi, following Andiramon and shooting the damned monster simultaneously. So did Yuuji, ignoring the pain on his left hand. "Run and shoot!"

At that point, Taichi discerned a few people turning into the street from a fair distance ahead of the International Medical Center, followed by a 20-foot digimon with guns in his hands. _That must be them!_

"Junas! Over here!"

* * *

Beelzemon was getting tired. Fast. It must've been the effects of the fatigue bullets. At least he was only hit by the fatigue bullets. None of the weapons sporting attack-cancelling ammunition managed to strike him. The Demon Lord fought non-stop, and he was at his limits. Yet he persisted, not until his family was safe.

His responsibilities were alleviated slightly when the head of the Kurosawa household discovered the monsters' weakpoint. Still, there were too many of these things. They were being overwhelmed.

When they finally turned into the next street, boy, was he happy to see Taichi's party on the other side of the street, coming to meet them! There was another digimon with them, a Perfect-level. Having a second set of hands to defend the humans would be a great relief from the stress accumulating on his back.

Alas, the Demon Lord was too exhausted. Already lagging behind, he silently elected to stay at the intersection, fighting off the black lizards chasing them right then and there. It would be his last service to the Kurosawa family, if he didn't make it.

Ai Kurosawa somehow detected his intentions and, veering away from her mother, turned around. "Beelzemon," she murmured his name. "Aren't you coming with us?"

Hearing his tamer's sweet voice made his chest painful. "This, this is it for me, Ai."

"Be, beelzemon!" She glanced towards Taichi's group in the distance. "Help's so close! Don't give up, c'mon!"

"All these years being together," muttered Beelzemon, "with you and Mako… they were great. Fun."

"Wha, what're you saying…"

"Sure the first couple of years sucked, but everything was, everything became better when you guys got older."

"Beelzemon!"

"Ai," he stared at her. "It was great while it lasted."

"Will you," she sniffed. "Will you follow?"

"If you can bring that digimon here," Beelzemon gave his condition, pointing at Andiramon in the distance. "I need to watch your backs first." He glimpsed Mr. and Mrs. Kurosawa noticing Ai's absence. They turned around and saw her with Beelzemon; they began running back, calling her name, urging her to follow. "Ai, just go. You're worrying your parents…"

With tears glistening in her eyes, his younger tamer, the second half of his soul, left the Demon Lord at the intersection, turning her back on him to follow her parents. He hoped Taichi's party would get to him in time, but they too were being overwhelmed from multiple sides. The family was running alone now, considering Beelzemon stopped and prevented the horde of voracious creatures from getting past him. He gunned down the distant beasts with his Berenja shotguns. Those that came in close fell victim to his _Darkness Claw_.

That the two groups would meet up before he died was a hope beyond hope. The opponents were simply too many.

* * *

Taichi could barely restrain his elation, catching sight of the Kurosawas on the other side. He wanted Andiramon to go and assist Beelzemon, but what good was that when that meant losing their only lifeline? The monsters were vulnerable to conventional weaponry _from the inside_, and there were just too many of these things.

"Junas, over here!" he reiterated, waving his left hand.

Yuuji, too, found joy in seeing them. "They're still alive!" The tone of his voice gave away his hope. "We can still save them! We're not too late" were the implied statements in those three words.

"Andiramon!" exclaimed Yuuji. "To the Kurosawas, as fast as possible!"

Taichi Yagami reloaded his M240, ducking to avoid the fatal lunge of the black beast. Andiramon quickly slew the monster, chopping off its head with two quick downward slashes. The group moved on, hope filling their hearts.

* * *

Beelzemon sensed it again. That presence. Malicious. Condescending.

Whoever—whatever—it was, it delighted in seeing their struggles. The Demon Lord could not help but glance upward. Beelzemon felt one of the monsters latch onto his arm, clenching it with its razor-sharp teeth. "GAH!" The Demon Lord tossed it away, receiving bite wounds as a trophy of the ordeal. The beast licked its lips, finding the Ultimate digimon's blood quite tasty.

Beelzemon's eyes never averted from the roof of the International Medical Center. He could see a person up there, gazing down. If he squinted a bit, he could see feminine features… and what looked like a sadistic sneer. She enjoyed their struggles to survive. It was like, their lives were nothing but an ostentatious show!

He was grossly insulted. _How dare you!_ The Demon Lord rapidly gunned down the beasts surrounding him. "DOUBLE IMPACT!" Before he could run towards her position for better accuracy, one of the buildings between him and the fleeing Kurosawas came crashing down, seizing the attention of all three parties.

The Demon Lord's eyes dilated in shock as a headless suit of armor his height ventured into the open. It was as black as the reptilian beasts attacking them, yet the material its armor seemed impervious to any attack. He watched the new opponent reach back for a greatsword as tall as itself, slamming it into the ground with a deafening boom. Beelzemon could discern the deep crater it made in the concrete.

It turned slowly, rotating towards the Kurosawas. The katzbalger was dragged across the pavement.

"I'M NOT LETTING YOU KILL MY FAMILY!" the Demon Lord bellowed. "HELL NO!" He trained his guns on the new monster but was obstructed by the black lizards.

_Goddammit!_ He raised his arms and clawed through several at once. "DARKNESS CLAW!" Beelzemon broke into a sprint, summoning adrenaline-pumped energy. He was on the verge of dying, yet the threat of seeing his very family die before his eyes revitalized him. _I will save you or I will die trying!_

"RAAAAARRR!" The Demon Lord opened fire. "DOUBLE IMPACT!" The bullets **sprung back**, failing to make a noticeable scratch on the armor. "WHAT THE EFF!" Beelzemon was tackled down by the monsters pursuing him. As he dispatched them, the Demon Lord—and Taichi Yagami, for that matter—watched the suit of armor suddenly dash to the Kurosawas, gaining speed fast. It raised the katzbalger.

"DUCK, ALL OF YOU!" urged Beelzemon.

* * *

Taichi could not believe his eyes. A massive suit of armor as tall as Greymon burst out of the wall, demolishing the building's concrete frame. The Child of Courage expected the thing to be a sluggish, but monstrously powerful adversary. The appalled and flabbergasted expression overtaking his face would've been a source for much amusement if the situation wasn't so dire.

If the monster did not approach the fleeing family with speeds something like it should never have in the first place.

It raised its gargantuan sword, intending to slash the Kurosawas in half.

MetalGreymon was nowhere in sight. Taichi Yagami was too unsettled by this new enemy to even think of something. Yuuji, however, knew what had to be done. "ANDIRAMON! BLOCK ITS ATTACK!"

"But Yuuji, what about—"

"NEVER MIND US!" wailed the rabbit's tamer. "JUST GO! HURRY!"

Andiramon nodded, spinning on its center like a top. "ASIPATRAVANA!" Andiramon proclaimed, plowing through the monsters obstructing it. Taichi Yagami stared as the purple rabbit sped past the family and raised its axe arms to block the headless knight's attack.

"DUCK, ALL OF YOU!" Taichi warned, his words of caution simultaneous with Beelzemon's.

The suit of armor's attack connected, striking Andiramon's treasure axes. To his surprise, the enormous katzbalger cleaved **through** Andiramon's arms, amputating them. Then, it went straight through the rabbit's body, and on to the Kurosawas.

Taichi screamed, howling their names as they saw their bodies flying in the air, the blood spurting, splattering all over the street...

"JUNAS! MARIE! AI!"

* * *

The monster was too fast. Ai looked back at him and realized the dominating presence of the suit of armor at that point. Her parents were too focused on getting to Taichi to even notice. "AAAIIIIIII!" Beelzemon screeched.

To his horror, the great sword cut through their three bodies so effortlessly, so cleanly. Their torsos flew, their bodies spurting so much blood it splattered all over the floor. Beelzemon could see the hope in the family's eyes slowly change into a look of dread, of fear, of grief!

"DARKNESS CLAW!" he ripped through the accursed beasts pinning him down. The Demon Lord was livid. He discerned Ai's still-living torso breathing on the pavement.

"Beel…ze…mon," she whispered, lapsing into a permanent unconsciousness. Never to wake again.

The Demon Lord felt it: a cold emptiness consuming his soul. It was the same emptiness, the same chill, that ran down his spine moments after Makoto died. But this one was more complete, more lasting. In the end it would consume him, and when it did, he would become catatonic. Beelzemon knew all too well the consequences of one's tamer being killed.

"I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU BEFORE I DIE!" blurted Beelzemon, slamming his clawed hands into the murderer's armor. "DARKNESS CLAW!"

Though Beelzemon's sheer strength knocked down the opponent, it escaped the attack with a shallow—a negligibly shallow—scrape across the back of its breastplate. His eyes widened. _But I'm stronger than you!_

A massive blow was delivered straight to Beelzemon's solar plexus, knocking him into the air. The Demon Lord landed on the concrete, coughing up blood. "GUFFAW!" _I-I'm effing stronger!_ He barely had the strength to get up now, the wave of coldness washing over him. Beelzemon could feel the fast approach of death.

The look on Ai's face, on the Kurosawas' visages, and the very moment they were all cleaved in twine were imprinted in his memories. "I, I'm gonna kill you," Beelzemon murmured weakly, with the same, undying rage. He aimed his two guns at the headless knight. "I''m gonna effing kill you!" The Demon Lord of Gluttony pulled the guns' triggers, infusing the weapons with what remained of his life, his energy, his soul. It was the last attempt. "Full charge, DOUBLE IMPACT!"

Beelzemon's aim was perfect. The guns shot out the strongest they could ever fire. Exploding with unholy energy, the bullets found their mark. Beelzemon lived on to see the fruits of his final strike, hoping to at least find a big, gaping hole in this bastard's black armor.

Only to be disappointed.

The armor was damaged yes, but the damage was negligible, even if it _was_ stronger than the _Darkness Claw_ it had endured the first time around. Beelzemon whimpered, utterly dismayed. Then he lost consciousness. The Demon Lord had fallen catatonic at last. "Ai," was the last word on his lips, spoken with deep regret and grief.

* * *

"_It will fail, Taichi. Whatever you're planning. IT WILL FAIL!"_

The first scene of Hikari Yagami's nightmares had been fulfilled. Taichi Yagami, her older brother, witnessed the deaths of the Kurosawa family, executed with one blow. The Child of Courage was oblivious to the warnings posed by the Child of Light, his hopes evaporating, slain along with the Kurosawas.

Yuuji, too, couldn't restrain his grief. Clutching his heart, the teen mourned the loss of Andiramon and his beloved comrades. He had it far worse than Taichi: his partner died, and Yuuji had a close—a very close—relationship with him. The digimon's death, the feeling one gets from it, was utterly indescribable. Unimaginable. It was so painful, tears continuously streamed out. And it was so paralyzing, Yuuji could not even move.

Taichi Yagami was perplexed by this unexpected chain of events. Why did these otherworldly monsters appear? Why were they attacking everyone? Where did they come from? Why are they so effing strong? The resounding footsteps of the suit of armor brought the Child of Courage back to his senses. While the beasts coming from behind it were distracted, feasting on the bodies of the Kurosawa family, the reptiles attacking them were relentless.

Taichi was the only one holding them up now, with Yuuji completely unresponsive, stupefied by the death of Andiramon. The Child of Courage fought his best, and to his horror, the headless knight slowly sauntered towards them, dragging the katzbalger across the ground. It was only a matter of time before the armored suit resumed its offensive and outrun them.

The drive to survive fueled the Chosen Child. Taichi punched Yuuji's face. "SNAP OUT OF IT! THIS ISN'T THE TIME TO GRIEVE!" He opened fire on one of the reptile monsters, killing it in two seconds. "YUUJI!"

Without warning the headless suit of armor was upon them. Taichi's eyes widened when it raised the sword for a quick kill. The sword crashed down fast, aiming for the only one lucid enough to keep fighting. The Chosen Child did not restrain his surprise at how fast the weapon was swung. It was as if this enormous katzbalger **was weightless**. At such a close distance he could see the blade was ebony black, so menacing in appearance it looked like it could cut through his cloak.

He heard Yuuji scream in pain. One of the reptilian beasts clamped down on his left arm. Another made a move to pounce on him and decapitate the teen, but Taichi was way ahead of it, firing upon it with his M240. The Chosen Child rolled out of the path of the headless armor's sword swing and shot the head of the monster clenching Yuuji's arm all the way to his armpit multiple times.

All it did was make the monster aware it was being shot at. It flexed its head and ripped Yuuji's arm off his body, devouring it in seconds. Then the headless knight made a horizontal slash, intending to slice Yuuji and Taichi in half like the Kurosawas before them. Whether it struck down its own comrades.

The shock of amputation brought Yuuji back to reality. "T-Taichi, what hap—my arm, it hurts!" He felt around the stub that used to be his left arm. "Wah, where is it, where's my"—Taichi tackled him down to the ground. He almost lost his head in the process, the headless knight's blade sweeping right above his head, with such a force it would've cut his old afro in an instant.

Down on the ground and with only his life to lose, Taichi made his last act of desperation. The Child of Courage reached into his pockets for a flashbang grenade, pulling the pin and tossing it into the group, turning away seconds before its explosion.

He could hear the monsters coming for the two of them. The snarls. The muscular bodies. Even the lurches made by the headless suit of armor. Then the grenade he threw ignited, exploding with a big bang, radiating an intense flash of white light.

Taichi opened his eyes slowly, and saw the monstrous beasts vanishing into black mist. He turned back, discovering the headless knight to have **stumbled**, unsettled by the loud bang (or was it the light?). That's when he saw the neck. The hole on the neck held only darkness, albeit the kind that was infinitely empty. Something about it made Taichi reach for his LMG and train it on the empty hole before the weakened armor could right itself. "RAGH!" cried Taichi, emptying the last of his clip into the open hole.

The headless suit of armor finally burst into black mist, leaving behind its breastplate, which would disperse later in a minute, unless someone was to pick it up and use it. Such thoughts were far from his mind. He immediately reached in his pockets and took out arather large handkerchief and tied it around Yuuji's stub to prevent further bleeding.

"We're heading back to the straightaway, Yuuji," he said. "We're pulling out." Immediately he informed his friend of what happened minutes earlier, reminding him of the ordeal they had just gone through.

"And," he added, "those things, whatever they are, they're weak to flashbangs. Specifically the light they emit."

Yuuji was surprised. "Really?"

"The beasts die instantly. The suit of armor… slightly weakened."

"If only we knew about this while the Kurosawas were still alive. While… Andiramon… was still alive."

Taichi's face had a look of grief as well, but the Child of Courage quickly snapped out of it. "We will grieve later. Right now we need to regroup with Miki."

"And then what?"

"We're fleeing. We can't assault the DSI HQ with just _three people_ and _two digimon_**.**"

The monsters began materializing around them once more, some appearing right in front of them. Others were more discreet, instead leaping to their line of sight from an alley or some hidden place. This time however, the headless knights were also accompanying them. From observation, Taichi could guess the ratio of knights to beasts were two to one.

"Ready your flashbangs, Yuuji." He cocked the M240; Yuuji used his armpit to hold his AK-47 and reload it, as well as keeping it steady when aiming. "If we run out," murmured Taichi, "…there's a lot of corpses around here."

The two began retracing their steps. They were going to make it alive one way or another.

* * *

Human imagination has long toyed with a theory of multiple universes, a beloved child of science fiction and a possible teleology for all the research directed to interstellar travel. Japanese animation was playful with this concept. A sparkling sea of green and yellow. Perhaps it was filled with impossible geometry, their forms inconceivable to human eyes. Maybe the Space Between Worlds was a giant room. A chamber of doors, gates, tunnels, and portals, devoid of life and so massive in size not even the billions of people populating the Earth could hope to fill. Or maybe, it went the other way around, with each universe separated from each other by the Divine Kingdom, accessible only through black holes and their event horizons.

The Space Between Worlds was literally a gap between worlds. Empty space, filled with nothing but prismatic light. Light that spiraled, circled, oscillated, and crashed into each other, generating a miasma of colors. A pandemonium of æther and otherworldly energies, all beyond mortal comprehension. This was the Eternal Maelstrom, and it was greedy. It was ruthless. Anything unfortunate enough to get caught in it would be instantly ripped apart, absorbed into the Unlimited Chaos. Only an Infinity such as this kept each universe apart, held them at bay so as to prevent any collision as they moved, ever expanding, ever oscillating.

Only the Divine, those blessed by the Gods, or those carrying artifacts of legends long forgotten throughout the inhabitants of the multiverse, had the ability to pass through the Space Between Worlds. Through the power of æther they would force a literal space in this gigantic maelstrom. A tunnel of darkness spiraling through, circling around, the Unlimited. Yet even this passage was temporary at best, an error in the gears designed by their Creator, one that would shortly self-correct.

Christopher Van Numen, thanks to the Realmstone Fragment in his Medallion, had opened such a path and was sprinting through the new tunnel. Devoid of wounds, equipped with the black armor, and his DITE fully extended, ready for battle. Sally Xyphard followed his footsteps, her purple robes flailing as she crossed the Space Between Worlds with nothing more than a long, silver mace in her deceptively smooth hands.

The same creatures Taichi Yagami and the Digidestined encountered appeared before them, manifesting in the tunnel in droves. Shapes of black beasts obstructed their way, yet Christopher and his significant other could see them even though light could not intrude the boundaries of the path snaking through eternity. They were accompanied by two of the towering suits of armor that had challenged Taichi Yagami, headless yet imposing, their great katzbalgers ready to strike. "Tsk, Gatespawn," the blond uttered, his goldenrod eyes recognizing their true nature. "Sally, take care of the ereba. The hadraals are mine."

Christopher then made a beeline for the suits of armor. Unlike Taichi and Yuuji, who had trouble evading the blade of even one, Christopher eluded the titanic swords they swung in the nothingness with ease. He leapt, grabbing the silver æther gun from its holster. One of the hadraals flanked the blond, zoning aggressively to the side and sending one unstoppable sword down, rushing in from above. Christopher had long been ready. In the flash of an eye the man raised his left arm and met the katzbalger with the Realm Scanner, the ultimate shield. Without skipping a beat he followed this defense with a quick horizontal slash _through_ the sword.

The DITE sliced the metal and the armor of this intimidating creature as though it was mere clothing. Peculiar, given Christopher's sword (and his own armor) had been manufactured using the same materials comprising the hadraals' protection. Strong, invisible force was generated by one swing of the DITE and compelled the disintegrating body and its companion to stumble. Christopher Van Numen skipped to the side, climbed the headless knight, and shot B-grade æther into the hole on its neck before it could do anything.

Bright flashes of light seized Christopher's attention. His head panned slowly, for he already knew what to expect. Sally disposed of the ereba, as quickly as Christopher dispatched his opponents. One slam of her mace destroyed one instantly, yet a button on her weapon, when held down, activated an internal machine that amplified the damage sevenfold and, upon every strike, emitted a bright flash that stunned every beast within three meters.

More of these vile monsters materialized to replace the many the two of them slew systematically as they advanced through the Space Between Worlds. Every second they spent here took a toll on them, made them nervous. They were being pursued by something far more fearsome than the ereba and the hadraals, and it was only at their next destination, the next world, where they had a better chance of eluding their pursuers.

_We need to hurry_, Christopher Van Numen thought. He slashed the air multiple times, the intangible force blowing the creatures away, grouping them all together in a pile that took a few seconds to untangle itself. Enough time to provide not only breathing room, but also an attack that would leave this tunnel empty of other life forms for a good minute or so. Goldenrod eyes turned bright blue, lit by the neural machine on his left arm. _Assault Mode._

The triangular form of the Realm Scanner split from the middle, revealing a small cannon one inch in diameter. The R-Scanner's HUD, reflected in Chris's eyes, was a crosshair. Every command was given mentally. He clasped his left arm, aiming the gauntlet at the ereba. _Fire!_ He thought, once the weapon had been fully charged. It didn't take that long to begin with. A verdant green beam of æther, A-grade, flew out from the tiny cannon, wiping out a significant number of the ereba. The æther ignited around the hadraal's æther-resistant armor, though the sheer strength of the particles destroyed them eventually. Any creature unlucky enough to surround him was disintegrated instantly by the tornado of æther enveloping him, blown through tiny yet impossibly resilient exhaust tubes built into this mysterious machine.

Sally popped up in sight when he was done. She, long aware of the fatal, non-discriminatory effects of æther, had stepped back to watch Chris work his magic. She let her beloved take her hand and, together, lead her through a shining oval of whiteness in the distance.

The next world!

They have not even taken ten steps towards this salvation when lime blasts of C-grade æther halted their advance, coming from the front. The dreaded woman in green burst through the Unlimited Chaos, shining crystals falling off her scantily clad body. "You're not getting away so easily," she sneered. A lime glow caressed her hands ominously, tangible and foreboding.

Christopher ignored the flatness of her stomach. That she did not breathe at all hinted to her true nature. "How did you... no, Ivan was supposed to—

"That space pirate?" Flowing locks of hazel hair hovered majestically as she smirked. "He's right here." The area around her right hand shimmered, the æther enveloping it receding, allowing the severed head of Ivan Beleegar to phase into existence. It was unmistakable. The blond recognized the rough face, the many scars on it, and the chinstrap beard. On Ivan's face was an expression of terror and agony indescribable.

Christopher was horrified. She was supposed to go after him! This _bitch_ should've been delayed for a few seconds by Ivan, before smacking him away and pursuing them through the tunnel he created in the previous world. Did this mean she decided to stay behind? To rid Christopher of a companion that had been with him for years?

"You really shouldn't let people **weaker than you** buy you time." An act of cruelty, the woman held up the severed, bloody head for the blond and the priestess to see. "I had to indulge myself," she spoke seductively. "Hearing him scream, beg for mercy, wonder why I haven't gone after you as I slowly vaporized his body..."

A cloud of æther accrued around her hand. It disintegrated the remains of the space pirate. Quite possibly, it was the only thing that had been left of Ivan, his best friend. "Oops," blurted the woman in green. Giggling, "So much for burying the body."

"You _fucking _sadist," Chris shuddered. Inhuman rage coursed through him, channeling into his voice something deep and booming it would have intimidated many of the administrators overseeing the affairs of each universe, the ones their subjects often deigned godhood. "I'm going to **kill** you."

She gave him a smirk in reply. "Go ahead and try," it seemed to say.

Christopher Van Numen went livid, his fury fueled by grief and inscrutable anger. He reached for the white staff on his back as he moved towards the accursed she-devil. "I'LL KILL YOU, FELICIA!"

Sally tried to stop him from going on the offensive, gliding to the woman in green with the intent to kill by whatever means necessary. Chris had sown the wind. Had she held her peace right now, the blond would have reaped the whirlwind in the days to come. That much, she was certain. "NO, STOP!" Sally admonished him, realizing he was no longer within reach. "Chris, you know what'll happen!"

Reluctantly Christopher Van Numen moved his hand away from the ashen staff, and in its stead, brought out the DITE, expanding it to its full length, while raising his gun at the same time. Many of his lesser enemies would have been intimidated, if not chased away screaming for dear life. Felicia was not a lesser enemy, and she was no mere subordinate of the beings pursuing him. She was a full partner, and that spoke volumes of the strength she possessed. Felicia shook her head at Christopher's decision, like she'd been expecting more from him. Something more suitable, more appropriate for someone of his reputation.

The color green inundated her position, one shot after another. Chris pulled the trigger so much it was like a machinegun, fitted with an unlimited supply of ammunition. The perfect firearm, some had called it. Chris' goldenrod spheres couldn't see much beyond the river of æther, yet he hoped he at least did some damage to the damn woman. Killing Felicia with just this was impossible, given her ability to—

Felicia suddenly appeared beside him, **completely unharmed**. With a single stroke she _drew_ an arm's length of æther from the wild, uncontrollable currents bursting from his gun, crystallized it solid, into a menacing lance encasing her bare arms, and thrust her creation at Christopher's stomach. On instinct he pivoted and swung the DITE for a quick wing block, but he did not escape unscathed and received a fairly long gash in the process. Before Chris could retaliate, before he had the chance to flick his wrist the other way, Felicia smashed his solar plexus so hard the man was coughing up blood while flying towards the priestess.

"Here," her hands were overshadowed by white light. The same light of calmness and tranquility and peace produced by the Quadrille, which Sally held over Christopher's body and exponentially multiplied his natural regeneration. An amazing feat in itself, especially when Chris' natural regeneration was so many notches faster than most humans. Her cerulean eyes gazed in Felicia's direction, wary of her actions while she waited for her beloved to recover.

The wariness was uncalled for, she learned. The sadist, rather than continuing her relentless assault, decided to watch, amused by the whole dramatic spectacle.

And a spectacle it truly was. "Leave me and escape!" Sally ordered, struggling to keep her voice calm. Hold it steady. "I'll fight, they won't pass me." She glanced at the woman in green, swallowing her fear. "Not even her." Sally Xyphard was afraid. The priestess was fearing for her life, but even her own instincts of self-preservation wouldn't dare speculate over the long-term consequences of letting Christopher die, not after witnessing for herself what came next. Besides, she loved him with all her heart. "Please, everyone else would've died in vain."

Christopher didn't want this. He rejected her request as soon as she spoke. In fact, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, not from her, Sally, of all people. She was the only one he had left. He wanted **her** to live, and the thought of continuing this messed-up journey alone, traversing the Unlimited without _her_, murdered him from within, slashed at his heart and cutting it into many pieces. Too many pieces. "N-no, Sally..."

"Go on to the next world," the priestess urged him. "You cannot fall here, Christopher..."

"Please don't talk like that," his voice croaked, weak but slowly recovering in strength; he had long been out of danger. "Stay **here**, Sally, don't—Felicia will—

"Not when you're so far!"

All this time the priestess knew how important this journey was, and how Christopher was the last piece of the puzzle. A puzzle of unknown ramifications, of unknown consequences. The uncertainties were certain to be terrible and horrifying, considering the grotesque powers borne by his enemies. Even if she didn't want to, even if she wanted to stay with the blond forevermore, Sally had come to terms with the irrelevance of her life in the grand schemes concocted by the Divine.

Christopher held her hand, clasped it, rubbed it tenderly. She was everything to him. His eyes were watery. Pathetic. "But I can't go on without you," he pleaded.

The woman in green did not bother restraining her amusement, cackling. "Are you done with your little drama?"

The space before Sally and Christopher rippled the same way a stone was cast into still waters. Felicia appeared soon enough, her clothes revealing. A plump breast and smooth legs were flamboyantly put on display, and she pushed her face onto Christopher's as close as possible and take in the full gamut of the man's shock and terror, both emotions emanating from those goldenrod eyes. "This is exactly why I will **enjoy** killing this _bitch_ before your eyes."

Terror and astonishment transformed to rage in less than a second. Sally discerned something else in there, perhaps desperation. Panic. "No, you're not taking anyone else!" He slashed at Felicia, only for the DITE to pass through an afterimage—the she-devil vanished _again_, but that didn't stop Christopher. That didn't stop him from preparing the Realm Scanner, charging it for another shot in its Assault Mode.

A stream of A-Grade æther as long as the user had the endurance to hold on, capable of carving a shallow gap in the Unlimited Chaos of the Space Between Worlds in its wake. Although the empty space would be filled in an instant, that the Realm Scanner's weapon could abate the eternal maelstrom for a scant few moments in time was a testament to its power. It was unstoppable, impossible to defend against.

It was one of Christopher Van Numen's most terrifying attacks, yet both he and the priestess alike knew the blond was capable of far more destruction.

Displayed on the man's glowing eyes was a HUD of the tunnel leading to the next universe. If Chris had the time _and_ the interest to bother, he would have noticed the tunnel was slowly but surely shrinking, its boundaries given a faint hue of emerald green. The Realmstone Fragment's power kept them alive, but for only a few precious minutes at a time. Chris had neither the luxury nor the desire to investigate this. He swore to find Felicia no matter where she hid herself in. Invisible in the space beyond, or within the Eternal Maelstrom, clad in æther crystals generated from the surreal volatility of energy. It didn't matter.

He would find her, and then he would **kill** her. The R-Scanner pinged, prompting his glowing, azure eyes to home in on seemingly empty space right where the HUD indicated Felicia's icon. "Hell no!" the blond roared. He raised the vambrace, noted the tiny barrel. It shone an ominous green. A foreboding color that unleashed a massive onslaught of æther at will. "You won't take Sally from me!"

Sally Xyphard was the last. She was the only one left. Everyone else was dead, of whom only three might still be alive if he hoped beyond hope. But did that even matter, when they too were lost to the tendrils of Infinity, never to cross paths with Christopher again no matter how long they scoured through one universe after another? He had to protect Sally. He **needed** to protect her.

This damn woman targeted _him_ specifically, aiming to crush his heart and break him before finishing him off for a goal he'd been unable to draw out from Felicia during the many confrontations they have already had in the recent past. He'd do anything to spare Sally the fate of the space pirate. Vanishing like that, without a trace, leaving nothing behind even as a memento for remembrance...

If he could just slay Felicia right there, then he would have one less enemy on this interdimensional journey. One less adversary to threaten the companions left behind. Each and every single one close to his heart, who he treasured more deeply and more greatly than fame, than riches, than any form of material wealth.

Felicia sneered at his determination. "What a fool." Her palm, she deemed, was the one thing she needed to face the approaching onslaught. She had it raised in a split second, an impressive speed considering the amazing velocity of the rushing æther. The stream of emerald green met the woman in green's hand, and instead of disintegrating it as it vaporized the Gatespawn, the turbulent current met its end. All of it was sucked into a single point, crystallizing into a pair of lances.

This outcome would have happened even if Felicia failed to raise her palm in time.

The woman in green faded once more, leaving behind ripples in her wake. Chris noticed her disappearance and immediately shuffled back, away from the shell of æther that had been surrounding him during the Assault Mode's rage. It crystallized while he retreated. His instincts were validated as soon as he saw the spines shooting out within. Just one or two seconds too late and he would've been caught in that attack!

"You depend too much on the æther!"

_Behind me!_

Chris pivoted his foot, yet he was milliseconds too late. Felicia impaled his abdomen with one of the spikes in her hand as soon as she rippled into view. The other collapsed in on itself, becoming a glowing orb of A-Grade æther, snug in her deceptively slender, beautiful palm. "Did you forget I'm a Realmdrifter?" Felicia slammed the emerald sphere into Chris' chest. It exploded, launching Chris away with the crystal lance still in his leg.

"GAAAHHH!"

"Chris!" Sally screamed, running towards the battle to assist her beloved. The Gatespawn materialized between them. Hadraal and ereba obstructed their path. Easy enough for her to handle, but if this fight went on for a few more minutes...

"That was so _stupid_!" chastised the woman in green. "You **know **æther doesn't work on me."

The blond replied by removing the blasted spike (suppressing a pained scream) and hurling it at Felicia. It stopped mid-way, forced to a halt by her power over the æther. She would have sent it flying at him if Chris did not suddenly slice the hovering lance with the DITE as he went on the offensive and plunged the jet-black blade down, hoping it cleaved the Realmdrifter in half.

Felicia proved herself elusive. Too elusive. Every slash he made struck an after-image and even if _he_ did get a legitimate attack in, she was simply too agile, too dexterous for him to inflict a wound as serious as the one in his abdomen. All the while, she flung her fists at him, clad in shrouds of lime æther. Green crystals formed around her intermittently and shot towards him at point blank, but somehow he managed.

Christopher eventually began flagging. He panted out of exhaustion, out of fatigue. Felicia was only speeding up, quickening with each passing second. There was nothing magical about this. Nothing mysterious and enigmatic. This only meant **he** was getting slower. His brain was losing its superhuman processing power, declining from the attacks piercing his armor, from the mental trauma of seeing Ivan die a complete death, from the first wound Felicia inflicted on him...

If only he could use the staff still idling on his back. If only he could... Christopher reached for the ashen weapon, his hands quivering madly for salvation.

Sally's voice repeated in his head, interrupting the blond's desperate thoughts. _"You know what'll happen!"_

He hesitated.

That was all Felicia needed. "YOU'RE DEAD!" She boomed, bringing her hands down at him in an X-strike. The shrouds enveloping them became amorphous clouds as long and as thick as the ten-foot katzbalger brandished by the Hadraal. Christopher Van Numen tried to block both sides, the R-Scanner for one and the DITE for the other.

That did not work.

A massive explosion engulfed Christopher, causing tremendous damage, enough to bathe the man in his own blood. The invulnerable Realm Scanner was spotless as it usually was, while the DITE was a bit damaged, but still as imposing as it had in its full glory. Somehow the blond's armor survived, intact on every spot save for the one he'd been impaled through. Yet it was frayed. It was cracking. It wouldn't last another hit. Then again, neither would he.

Christopher slashed multiple times to push Felicia and hopefully pin her with the generated force before she could vanish again, but the sluggishness of his body and the exhaustion he suffered from slowed him down considerably. It allowed Felicia to fade and reappear below him, her hands glowing bright lime in preparation for another attack. "A waste of effort," the Realmdrifter mocked before slamming her hands together. "VIRIDIAN CROWN!"

Jagged teeth of crystallized æther sprung out of the lime light, rushing up at speeds too fast for the weakened Christopher to even _begin _dodging. He tried to evade, but the crystal stalagmites were quicker. Soon they pierced him. Through his arms, through his legs, through the weak points in his armor. Thhe blond was trapped, and though these were solid crystal, the nature of æther affected him as soon as he felt it touch his skin. Christopher screamed from the pain, from a torment no different from being cooked alive, from having the burning embers of the sun lit within those wounds.

This was a crucifixion. A crucifixion that had not a crown of thorns for his head, but a crown of spines for his entire body.

"Finally." The space before him rippled before Felicia reappeared among them, fading into existence. Her hands formed multiple seals, multiple shapes for a good five seconds. All of them were a blur to see. His eyes could no longer keep up. His speed was gone. His agility was gone. His superhuman reflexes, utterly eroded. Soon, white lines circled her right palm, gyrating around an orb of darkness that seemed to generated arcs of lightning. Arcs of **black** lightning. It was unlike anything Christopher had ever seen. It was a different sort of darkness, something that looked tangible. It pulsated with a foreboding presence, and for some reason Christopher's chest convulsed with each pulse.

The Realmdrifter strolled towards him. Every step she took increased the abominable pain in his chest, but she did not care. "You are a curse." All Felicia had for him was a comment on Chris' struggling. "Bringing tragedy wherever you go. **Everything** you suffer from now was your fault from the very beginning!"

She laughed at him. Sneered at him. She might have spit at him if she so wanted. "And for what?" the woman derided. "Five years of borrowed time?" A disgusted snort. "That's all you get for fulfilling the prophecy. For following the will of God!"

"B, but we were Chosen," Chrisopher weakly protested, somehow pushing himself through the pain of being next to this menacing, calamitous sphere. It all but blinded him, sapped him of strength. "Destined to save the multiverse... His Kingdom!" Bitterness filled his cracking voice. "Chosen! This, this isn't—this wasn't what we—

Felicia gazed deep into his goldenrod eyes. "But it is." It was the only thing she had to say. "This is **your** destiny, no matter how much you deny it, how long you keep running from it, hiding behind an anonym."

"Damn it," he grunted. "I, I can't—not here—not now." His struggling intensified, but not even Christopher's strength saved him. "Three more. I just need three more..."

Felicia tuned out the last remnants of his defiance. "This battle would've been more thrilling if you didn't listen to your bitch. You might've escaped too... bought yourself a few more days, a few more weeks." Her bright-green eyes bore into his. "But that's irrelevant now."

Standing inches away from him, Felicia Portal gazed deeply into Christopher's goldenrod eyes. The pain was so strong he could not reply to her words. He could only grunt. "D-dammit…"

She shook her head, disappointed. "This battle would've been more thrilling if you didn't listen to your bitch." Her bright-green eyes bore into his. "But that's no longer relevant." Felicia brought the orb closer to the blond's chest, intensifying the convulses and, this time, introducing a freezing cold. "This is the end, '_Christopher Van Numen_'," were her final words. Venomous disdain tinted her voice. "Accept it."

The throbbing of his chest gave way to torment beyond description. "AAAHHHHHH!" The blond screamed. He tried to break free from the crystals pinning him in place. He could feel it, the threat it hung over his life. He'd have done something about it already, if the suffering he was being put through didn't disrupt his thoughts, didn't mess with his ability to concentrate and focus. Unable to do anything else, Chris pulled his arms in, pulled his legs in, kicking and flailing everything he could. He settled to a more primitive, a more barbaric method of escape. Slowly cracks formed along the crystal spikes. Surely he could escape from this situation, but only if he had the time.

And time was running out on him. Once contact was made it was over. His consciousness would be torn asunder and float to oblivion. That he knew. Speculated from the way this orb affected his very being. From how it felt cold. Empty. Devoid of anything...

Felicia reared her hand. "And so the Fifth Crusader falls!" She declared before thrusting the Darkness into Christopher's chest with a smile of glee on her face. Too late, too tired, and too weak to do anything, the only thing the blond could do now was close his eyes and expect the worst.

Whatever he waited for never came.

The throbbing of his chest, the inexpressible agony, suddenly vanished. _Why?_ Chris slowly opened his eyes. The goldenrod spheres dilated the moment he realized Sally Xyphard was right in front of him, with Felicia's hand buried in her back.

So many tears cascaded down her eyes. Those wonderful cerulean eyes. He watched them slowly decay into colorless black. Sally stayed strong and resisted the pain to raise a hand and caress Christopher's cheek. The priestess did not regret anything, her body reiterated all over. She smiled. "Take care always," she murmured.

A smile showing how important Chris was to her.

"I..."

A smile thanking him for everything he had done, for making her feel special despite the terrible situation he was in.

A smile regretful over the fact she would never see him, never _feel_ him again.

"I, I-I..."

A grief-stricken smile that begged him never to forget her and everything they shared together.

"Love... you..."

She managed to say those three words before the priestess's smile vanished in a cloud of lime and scarlet. Felicia looked furious, if not at Sally then at herself, for growing so engrossed in tormenting Christopher his woman found an opening and obstructed her way—whatever she was doing. She invoked the æther, calling a cloud of yellow-green on her left hand and struck down Sally with one hit.

Consumed by so much anger, the Realmdrifter forgot to regulate her own strength. The attack went through the priestess and continued onwards, strikingnot only one of spikes of the crystallized æther but also the tip of the Realm Scanner. Explosions rumbled in front of her and sent the blond flying as the stalagmites imprisoning him shattered. "That _lucky_, son of a—

Shocked, paralyzed, fatigued, and wounded, even if he wished it, Christopher couldn't have stopped himself from being hurled into the Eternal Chaos of the Space Between Worlds.

He found himself immersed in the flowing light. There was no air, there was nothing in the Unlimited Chaos that could sustain someone normal. His senses were all confused. His own hands were invisible to him, even if they were right in front of his face.

"Ha... ha..." Christopher Van Numen couldn't breathe, but that didn't stop his body from making those sounds anyway. It reminded him of the strangeness of his powers, of the _curse_ Destiny brought on him. It reminded him of Felicia, as if they had long developed something in common with each other. _That_ was a reminder that disgusted him the most, that prompted him to stand up on a surface he couldn't see, let alone feel its texture. He wasn't even sure if he was imagining things.

Chris felt weak, felt pain throbbing near his abdomen. A hand crept to its source and found warm liquid flowing out of a hole through his armor, through his garments. The size of the wound was unknown, but surely it was enough to sap his strength. The previous battle was a faint recollection, yet the man didn't like what he was remembering.

The blond sauntered forward as though attempting to distract himself from the dejection. He had no idea where he was doing, yet he trudged on. The Medallion he wore pulsed after each step; for some reason, its throb was _stronger_ towards a certain direction. Was he going up? Was he going down? Left? Right? Diagonal? Who knew?

Christopher began sprinting, ignoring the pain even as the Eternal Chaos yielded to a constant white. Why was he still alive? Why hasn't the Infinity absorbed him yet? Why was he running like this? Wasn't he safe now? What... What was he afraid to...

The images came to him quickly. Sally's long, hazel hair. Her bright blue eyes. Her sweet voice. They all invaded his head, including the last words she spoke.

"NO!" He refused to remember. "DAMN IT, NO!" He didn't want to remember this! She wasn't—Sally _couldn't_ be—"NO, NO, NO, NO!"

He couldn't stop his mind from remembering it all. From reminiscing it all. Replaying the memory of the battle, and of her death, by the excruciating second. "AAAHHHH!"

.

.

Christopher Van Numen woke up.

Instead of the forest behind the Spire of Courage, a little ways from the cave where he met Veemon, he found himself sitting up in the bedroom of a sleazy motel. His chest still ached, and a clammy chill pervaded the air. A sense of being incomplete held him, and tears began flowing out of his goldenrod eyes as the past surged from inside him.

What he dreamed wasn't a coincidence. What he dreamed was a reminder. A wake-up call.

* * *

Taichi was, for the first time in this battle, truly alone.

He and Yuuji had run out of flashbangs—and corpses to scavenge them from—when they were a hundred meters or so from the straightaway. What happened next sickened the Child of Courage.

Without any strong source of light under their command the duo were easily overwhelmed. Three hadraals accompanied the ereba assaulting them, and their presence changed everything. On top of lunges, swipes, and bites from the black reptiles, they also had to contend with swift swiping and slashing from these headless suits of armor.

Taichi managed to evade a few, but at some point, one of the hadraals' katzbalger ripped through his cloak cleanly, as if red Chrome Digizoid meant nothing to it. A large slash wound appeared on his belly, overflowing with blood. Yuuji had a worse fate, not only being cut horizontally in half by the hadraal, but also having his surviving, upper torso swallowed whole by one of the ereba pursuing him.

The Child of Courage could flee no more. He collapsed on his knees, fighting the pain and agony, trying to keep his innards from falling out the gaping wound on his stomach. The monsters will not give Taichi the opportunity to regain his bearings, and lunged on him, right in the middle of the street.

"TRIDENT ARM!" MetalGreymon's voice boomed in Taichi's ears. Instantly the beasts surrounding Taichi were knocked back far by the cyborg dinosaur's metal claw, shooting out of his forearm.

His digimon partner landed beside him, in a state almost as bad as Taichi's own—a clear indicator of the hell he went through on his own. There was no need to explain what happened. Like Yuuji, Andiramon, and Taichi, these hideous things overwhelmed MetalGreymon, Miki, and Sinduramon. Taichi conjectured MetalGreymon must have searched for his partner once Sinduramon and her tamer were slain.

Without uttering a word the chest plate on MetalGreymon popped open, revealing a couple of cannons loaded with missiles. "GIGA DESTROYER!" declared the Digimon of Courage, shooting the fish-shaped rockets within.

The Gatespawn took the brunt of the damage, engulfed in an explosion comparable to a small-scale nuclear warhead. More of them reappeared, repopulating the numbers they had lost. Taichi thought this moment was appropriate for one last act of desperation.

Taichi Yagami unveiled his last trump card. Though all tamers, including the Twelve Chosen Children, could evolve their digimon to the Perfect level on their own, albeit with several preconditions such as adulthood, full internalization of the virtues compatible to them, and the like, very few were capable of bringing their partner digimon to Ultimate.

Among the few was the Child of Courage himself. The evolution process was far more dangerous to the human than the digimon. Only a full-fledged adult can use it. Children were too immature to even tap into it, explaining why ten years ago, evolutions to levels beyond Adult necessitated the assistance of others, specifically Gennai and the Harmonious One, Qinglongmon.

Taichi no longer cared for the risks involved. He had to get out of this alive. The only thing in his mind now was not the mission, not even his own life, but his younger sister, Hikari. He didn't want to think about the consequences his death will have on her already fragile mind.

The Child of Courage lifted his digivice, aiming it at MetalGreymon, imagining in his place the form and power of Wargreymon, Agumon's Ultimate form. He willed his own body to summon the energy needed for the process. Taichi would know his success the moment an odd, debilitating feeling washed over him, one that intensified when he concentrated.

"M-Me, M-MetalGreymon," he stuttered. Taichi's hands struggled to even hold the digivice. "E, e, e-evolve, to WarGreymon!"

The light of evolution seized MetalGreymon, transforming him once more. As this happened, Taichi slumped, drained. He was on the brink of unconsciousness when an orange hand plucked him from the cement.

WarGreymon leapt high into the air, gathering energy in the atmosphere, consolidating it in a single spot above one of his golden gauntlets. Emerald eyes glancing down at the beasts gathering below him, the Ultimate-level hurled the dense ball of energy straight at them. "GAIA FORCE!"

Collateral damage was immense, but it did the job, destroying the monsters—even the resilient suits of armor—and leveling every building within 500 meters.

* * *

Christopher was so startled by the nightmare it took two minutes for him to fully recognize his surroundings. Or rather, how he ended up there in the first place. His mind was still wandering when he felt Veemon's warm, leathery body to his right. The blue dragon had cuddled right next to him, clinging to his arm. He had chewed on it even. But now he was breathing deeply. Peacefully. Coincidentally, he was also dreaming.

But unlike the blond next to him, it was a happy dream. Christopher strained to piece together the almost incoherent babble from his muzzle. It was a happy dream where he introduced Christopher to Daisuke, where all three of them became great friends. "With me around," the blond heard him _giggle_, "you two are bound to get girls..."

Veemon gnawed on the arm as he moved his head, still asleep. The blond saw a copious amount of dribble close to his muzzle, keeping the bedsheets around his head damp and smelling like spoiled mayonnaise. This also explained why his white shirt felt and smelled the same way. "Whatever, Chris," the Chosen chuckled. "Don't give me that look!"

The timing was so coincidental it was as though the dragon was aware of his actions in the waking world.

It was cute.

"Awww," Veemon was whining. "But why, Daisuke? Chris doesn't really mind… see?"

It was cute as it was frightening.

Watching Veemon sleep a peaceful, tranquil sleep was enough to make Christopher shudder. But hearing some of the words taking place within the depths of his mind caused him to recoil, to jerk away from the digimon in fear. In absolute horror.

"What the hell am I doing?" he whispered to himself. "Why am I here?" Chris posed the question. "Why are you _letting_ this goddamn dragon affect you so much?"

.

.

_Christopher Van Numen gasped as the woman in green conjured the severed head of Ivan Beleegar. She held it up in a cruel display, an unseen force aiding her, helping her keep it afloat. Goldenrod orbs peered into the expression of unspeakable agony._

_He had died a terrible death. _

_Chris was scared to even imagine how he died. How much the Realmdrifter tortured the space pirate. How much Felicia played with him like a mischievous predator toying with its prey._

_"You really shouldn't let people **weaker than you** try buying you some time," the woman emphasized. Her glowing eyes and her intimidating sneer mocked Christopher. Ridiculed him for his habits. For his tendency to cling, to attach himself to those inferior to him. To those who were nothing to him. _

_Who could never hold themselves against the antagonists chasing him throughout the maze of all mazes._

_A cloud of æther sprouted from her hand. Sally clasped her hands over her mouth, muffling a scream of horror, appalled by the desecration of a dear friend's memory._

_Christopher Van Numen was stunned. Stunned beyond any measure. Stunned as if all the weight of the worlds he's doomed was brought down on his shoulders. His goldenrod pools appeared to be overflowing, clearly on the brink of bursting. _

_Ivan Beleegar was his "bro", a buddy that had been with the blond for almost as long as the priestess. He was someone special, someone who brought out the young boy trapped in the jaded hero, who enticed Chris in stupid, silly things he would have never experienced otherwise. The primary influence in many of the "odd habits" that he employed with frivolous duress. _

_And now he was gone._

_Thrown into oblivion without giving Christopher the opportunity to even mourn. _

_"Oops," blurted Felicia. "So much for burying the body." _

.

.

He shut his eyes, stopping the water pooling within them like a hastily constructed dam. One that was created in a matter of instants. "At this rate," he murmured, inching away from the blue dragon slumbering in peace. "H-history's… it's… it's gonna happen again."

Christopher clasped his head, envisioning an image he wouldn't dare to tread intentionally. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop himself from remembering, from imagining a dining room littered with corpses.

His mind forced Christopher Van Numen to watch a young boy, in his teen years, tremble as he stood, alone. The boy's puberty-laden voice shattered the silence, shivering. But not from the cold. _"M-mom? Dad?"_ He eyed the head of a slightly older lady, her visage torn in half, bloodied and mouth agape in pain. _"Sis?"_

Chris recalled the sounds of a bowstring being pulled, and his imagination refused to let him look away. To escape the memory by conjuring a black wall. No. He remembered a man standing among the fresh, mutilated corpses.

A man who aimed a long bow at the boy, in his hands a glistening arrow that contrasted the weapon's pristine green. The boy's black eyes were wincing, dilating in shock as they recognized his family's murderer.

Instead of uttering a scream, instead of fleeing, shouting for help and aid as any normal boy his age may have done, he spoke. _"C-Chester?"_

Christopher tried to pause the memory. He tried so desperately to blur it. To block the images attacking his mind relentlessly, any and all. _Why won't they stop?_

He was at their mercy, and there was nothing else he could do except watch. _Why won't they f*cking stop?_

In an act of desperation Christopher bolted out of bed, constantly shaking his head, feeling his heart pump wildly even as his chest was struck by the pain only one could feel from intense grief. He scoured the tiny room, eyes peeled for anything that could save him from this horrible assault.

That's when he found the tiny refrigerator under the desk near the television.

.

.

_The boy stepped forward, his expression unreadable although the words he articulated were tainted with unparalleled astonishment and a grief waiting to pounce. "Y-you," the boy stuttered. "You traveled back in time, just to visit me… right?"_

_He asked questions nobody would ask the butcher of their families. He stepped forward, trying to figure out the murderer's motivations, when in fact anyone else in his place would've grabbed the nearest weapon and charge the culprit without hesitating._

_Or cower in fright, instead._

_"So why?" the boy asked. "Why— _

_An arrow cut him off, flying straight into his face at speeds clocking far, far above that of highway traffic. Yet it missed, tearing only a few strands of hair. Locks that gradually took on a yellow hue as they fell farther and farther away from his body._

_"Please, answer me!"_

_Chester fired another arrow, and this time he was ready, raising his left arm in defense. But was ready truly the proper word for the boy, when his arm was bare and unprotected, when it wouldn't have mattered anyway as the impact and the arrowhead's edge were certain to tear off the limb as soon as it hit its mark?_

_As the boy and his half of the house was engulfed in a fearsome explosion the instant it collided? _

_Apparently, it was._

_But when the smoke cleared, when the debris had finally stopped raining from the skies, standing in the boy's place was a golden-haired man, amber eyes glimmering with as many emotions as his countenance. All of them inscrutable and tear-jerking. _

_The Realm Scanner, or an obsolete version of it, rather crackled from the swift attack. Bits and pieces of metal trickled from the device._

_Anyone watching the scene found the connection easy: Christopher Van Numen and the young, teenage boy were one and the same, the truth obfuscated by technology from the future. _

_"Why did you kill my family?"_

_Chester was quiet. Devoid of any emotion. Another arrow appeared in his hands, conjured from a malleable light. It was only now that Chris noticed the tattered clothing and the horribly disfigured body._

_It was only now that his eyes glanced at the misshapen face, streaked in blood and gore._

_And the eyes._

_The unnerving, charcoal eyes. As ebon as deep space. And just as empty._

_"Chester… what happened to you?"_

_The third arrow flew._

_This time, Christopher vanished from the spot, only to reappear before the archer, an unnatural speed enabling his hands to disarm and ensnare his opponent. "CHESTER!" _

.

.

Christopher found a dozen cans of beer. Every can containing 7% alcohol in volume. A reasonably high concentration for the class of beverage. Without pausing, he popped one open and began chugging it down.

* * *

Christopher left the bed so violently it shook. The blond did not realize it woke the blue dragon from slumber, popping his cozy bubble of dreams.

Veemon blinked, wiping the crust off his eyes. _Awww… _A pitched whimper warbled out his throat. "It was just a dream," he murmured softly.

Noises of someone ransacking the room caused his ears to twitch. He focused on the source of the disturbance, almost expecting an unwanted intruder. Instead, he found Christopher Van Numen, rummaging through the refrigerator. "Chris? What're you doing?"

But the blond did not hear him. His words did not reach his head, as though they flew out his ears like an ephemeral ghost.

Veemon no longer pressed his attack, for he had noticed something wrong with the blond. Something terribly wrong. He seemed ensnared by some irrational force, his goldenrod eyes shining with what looked like water, glazed with what he recognized was mental anguish.

The same kind of anguish that plagued him earlier that day, when he had an intimate experience with the prejudices of humankind.

Christopher was on his third can of beer when he talked to himself, ogling the medallion he always had on his neck. Its significance so great, Veemon had no idea if it was an item of immense sentimental value, an item that evoked warm memories of days gone past.

Veemon did not know how correct this presumption was. Neither did he realize the artifact conjured terrible memories, each beyond his understanding. Beyond even his black and white morality.

"Why is this happening to me?" the blond queried. "Why is all this…" He sobbed, unable to even complete his sentence. "F*CK!" he growled, clenching his free hand so tightly it could've crushed the dragon's neck. "WHY?"

He whimpered in his little corner, that goldenrod gaze concentrated solely on the medallion, staring at the green gemstone embedded on it.

"My life…"

Christopher's melancholy radiated from him, affecting Veemon to the point he _flinched_.

"…my family…"

He squeezed the artifact, his head bowed over it as though Chris was praying to a divine power. Beseeching a cosmic being for mercy and help. "…my friends…"

Again, he sobbed.

"Chester."

He wept.

"Ivan."

A sad, no, _despondent_ whine rumbled out his throat. "**Sally!**"

Veemon was too stupefied to realize Christopher's grieving whimpers sounded no differently from what came out of him the moment the blond escorted him out of Mons' Mart.

"A curse." He exhaled deeply. Chris must've thought that by steeling his nerves and freezing the waves of emotion still radiating from within, he would blow all this desolation away.

It did not leave him. "I r-really—I really **am** a curse!"

* * *

Christopher Van Numen held the golden medallion to his eyes, his hands quivering madly.

When Christopher Van Numen stared at the golden medallion, holding it to his eyes, ogling it with enough sadness to rip out a bystander's heart but not that of the God that watched him from above, more memories assailed him.

And this time he did not wail.

He just let them come… letting them come and go as they pleased.

_._

_._

_A city spanning more than a hundred square kilometers, boasting a population of more than 30 million. All destroyed. Spanning the broken metropolis were fissures, bright magma bursting from the center of the earth in various locales. Dark tornadoes whose winds rushed at speeds never seen in nature paraded the city in droves, unleashing catastrophe everywhere. Christopher Van Numen stood in the very center of this carnage, swathed in wounds of recent battle, his golden staff split into two segments of equal length._

_Beneath him lay the body of Chester Wilferson, disintegrating into a black mist. Tears continued to flow from the blond's eyes as they stared at the three others surrounding him: a red-haired man in a cloak, brandishing a long, crystal dagger; a humanoid, fox demon, her tail swishing harmlessly on the ground as she poised herself for attack, her silver gauntlets and boots glowing a pained white; and a young man a little older than he was, aiming at him with two tonfas as if they had guns hidden within. _

_Mass death and destruction were rampant. The few survivors were screaming, wailing in terror. Christopher Van Numen, the destroyer, the root of this apocalyptic catastrophe, did not hear these cries, his goldenrod eyes focused on the battle at hand, trying so hard to ignore the annihilation he caused, to forget the memory of his dead family, to stop himself from breaking down. His opponents, once loyal comrades who would die for him, cornered him with the intent to kill. Whatever humanity they had was long gone, without a trace. In nothing but torn clothing, their bodies were mere shells now, completely disfigured. Christopher could only scream. One question kept running through his head. It didn't take much to figure out what it was._

.

.

This was his past.

This was his "destiny".

A life of endless tragedy and despair.

"I, I can't take it anymore," he sniveled, praying to some merciful being out there. Why didn't anyone answer his prayers? Why were his pleadings ignored? Why?

He crushed the empty can in his hands, squeezing it until the aluminum became powder. A testament to his strength and his exogenous origins. A reminder that he would forever be out of place. That he would never belong the way Veemon belonged in this universe. The way Sally belonged in hers. The way everyone had a place to call home.

"I just wanted to graduate from school. To have a career. A tour of the world."

Christopher Van Numen sobbed again, weeping, crying. He let everything out, completely unaware someone else was watching this poignant display of emotions. Someone he should've been trying to detach himself from. To dissociate himself from in order to save him from his so-called destiny.

"I w-wanted to marry someone I love. To—have—t-to, to have kids!"

He banged his fists on the table, slamming it down so hard the blond almost forgot to restrain his strength at the last second and ended up causing the _stone_ surface to crack and splinter. "I just wanted to be normal."

Christopher Van Numen literally ripped the top off his fourth can of beer. "**TO BE F*CKING NORMAL!**"

He swallowed its contents in a single gulp and threw it away, all before his goldenrod eyes centered on the medallion. On the sliver of green glinting on its otherwise unsullied surface. "Is that so much to ask, God? After _everything_ I've effing done for you? I never should've taken this damn stone. NEVER!"

Chris reached for a fifth and ripped the lid off. His lips closed down on the jagged edges as if they never posed a hazard. "If only I could kill myself…"

_"That's all you get for fulfilling the prophecy,"_ Felicia's jeering words resurfaced. _"For following the will of God!"_

They mocked him. Tortured him. Haunted him with ghastly, vivid imagery that were no different from the atrocities he had both witnessed and executed with cold indifference. It was as though he relived them.

Every excruciating detail.

In every second that felt no different from forever.

.

.

_"Please," beseeched the figure, groveling on his knees. "Don't do it!" Human hands were clasped, eliciting mercy from its recipient._

_The masculine figure remained persistent, clutching the deep, cerulean coat fluttering like a cape. "Think of the millions—no, the **billions** you'll condemn!" Fingers twisted and coiled around the thick cloth, contorted and twisted by a sensation not unlike despair. _

_Sympathy was entreated from the audience of such pitiful, humbling requests, as if the intended recipient of its message was a divine being that held sway over entire cities. Over _civilizations_.  
_

_But Christopher Van Numen was no god._

_Sympathy was the last thing on his mind, as his eyes focused on the golden medallion that lay within the massive apparatus, the energy it exuded drawn by delicate machines to power the entire continent. Perhaps, even the entire planet._

_Without stopping to even pause at the regal figure pleading for any "ounce of good" in his heart, the man thrust his hand into the machine and retrieved the medallion—an artifact that was his by legacy, by all rights._

_Sally Xyphard was watching the scene with melancholy eyes, absorbing the guilt Christopher discarded to pursue his goals._

_To alter a fate he could never accept as his own… _

_._

_._

Christopher reached for one more can, only to find none. He had drunk it all. All twelve. Despite consuming enough alcohol to send a man on an empty stomach keeling, the blond felt nothing.

He drowned in his memories, and nothing he did saved him. He felt nothing turning his mind away from the empty despair. He felt nothing that evoked drowsiness, that should've been hauling him ever closer to a dreamless sleep.

"Twelve cans on an empty stomach and **nothing**?" He was dismayed. Flabbergasted.

And thoroughly disappointed.

All this time, he had never known. "What the hell… I can't even have the luxury of being wasted?"

The man resigned himself to sleep. He tried to go back. Tried so hard to keep his mind in one place. Protect it from a conscience that hammered Christopher Van Numen's defenses inexorably.

He shivered from the cold and forlorn emptiness nagging at his very soul. A feeling of incompleteness, rumbling from the center of his chest like a volcano just waiting to erupt.

.

.

_A grotesque jet of tangible oblivion, wrapped in an eerie white light, beckoning only death and endless torment, plunged into the recesses of Christopher's chest, who wailed in nauseating agony as he was slowly being consumed by a specter of overflowing darkness._

.

.

Only when he felt warm leather in his hands did Chris realize he had been slowly creeping towards Veemon, slowly and unconsciously pulling the blue dragon into a hug driven only by the insufferable combination of grief and hopelessness. By his losses. By fatigue both emotional and convictional.

Even though he stopped himself, even though he knew exactly what was happening, even though he knew what this action would entail, what it _meant_ in the grand scheme of things, Christopher wanted to yield. He wanted to give in and succumb to the comfort of a friend's presence, to the consolation of emotional support.

But he was reluctant to take the last step and yield to his emotions.

What stopped him was his history. His curse. Time and time again, tragedy hounded his every step. Every world he had gotten involved in on his journey had been destroyed, the status quos torn asunder by his intervention. His mere existence alone was enough to cause widespread massacre—he didn't even have to do anything!

For Christopher was an outsider.

He didn't belong here.

He _never_ belonged here.

Hadn't he had enough, argued his brain, having borne witness to the same cycle of loneliness, short-lived distractions, and renewed despair over and over again?

Why was he always getting himself involved? Why couldn't he just say "no" for once and turn a blind eye? Why couldn't he remain focused, and spare himself much grief by—

And that's when it hit.

The deaths of his family. Fighting those he considered loyal comrades, tempered by a camaraderie transcending the confines of space and time. Countless battles for survival.

Every disaster and tragedy that had been imprinted on his jaded memory.

He saw Ivan Beleegar's head vanishing into oblivion—annihilated by a cloud of energy. He remembered with impeccable clarity the demise of Sally Xyphard. Of his one and only.

Christopher had finally broke.

The moment Chris could no longer bear the tremendous weight of his past, tears began flowing, as if a dam had burst from an overwhelming pressure. He seized the nearest thing he could, wrapping his arms around the object and burying his face on it. As he wept, he wished the emptiness and the sadness laying siege to his mind would just go away and leave him alone.

Had Veemon been sleeping all this time, he would have surely been startled awake by the sudden embrace. He would have been puzzled by the ostensible and heartrending display of emotion, perhaps even perplexed, for until that night, the blond had never showed any signs of baggage, of a burden that was his alone to bear.

* * *

Veemon watched the blond suffer. The mental anguish and a truly pathetic display was difficult to watch. They compelled him to do something—anything!—to help Chris, to distract him from his inner turmoil.

He wondered why he was in such despair, why he was keeling over, reciting all his past hopes and dreams, all the ordinary and mundane aspirations he had left behind, cursing the gods he believed in while staring intently at the medallion clenched tightly in his grip. Hearing the man call himself a curse and wish he could kill himself saddened the dragon. What was bothering Chris so much? What had happened to him? What could be so terrible the blond had been effectively reduced to a sniveling, moping loser?

_You're not a curse to me_, Veemon wanted to rebut. How could he be?

Because of him, Veemon was given the opportunity to find his partner in the real world. Because of him, Veemon did not drown in the appalling culture of modern society. Because of him, Veemon received the chance to revisit places of strong, personal importance.

And because of Christopher, Veemon's faith in Daisuke did not waver.

How could the man think of degrading himself like this when he had done so much for the Chosen?

As much as Veemon was set to jump up and join Chris, lend him an ear, glomp him, or do _something_ to correct him, to remind him that life wasn't all that bad, to say everything was going to be okay the way he would say it to everyone depressed and miserable, the blue dragon fought against his instincts and restrained himself.

It was not in his character to watch a friend suffer and do nothing, but if it wasn't for Daisuke's actions three years ago, Veemon would never have learned how important the bigger picture was.

Veemon was uncomfortable with the thought of spying on Christopher like this, but what alternatives did he have? This was the digimon's chance to learn more about his companion and understand him. An opportunity that came once in a blue moon, for the man resisted most prodding and was generally inscrutable and enigmatic. A pair of scarlet orbs and conical ears absorbed everything that fell in his gaze. He committed them to memory, and he was certain the recall would be at least 95% accurate.

The Digimon of Miracles was as stunned as the blond as he realized his immunity to intoxication. He observed the blond return to the bed, his goldenrod eyes glazed over, receptive to nothing, radiating a despair that refused to leave, that insisted on overstaying its welcome.

Veemon had felt Chris' hands slowly pulling him into a hug. So moved was he by sympathy he was just about to respond in kind when the blond suddenly squeezed the dragon in a tight, enclosed embrace, burying his head on his shoulder as though Veemon was a stuffed animal, a pillow, or maybe, a substitute for someone that had always been there for him.

Christopher's pathetic whimpers reverberated in his ears. His face was so close to his own, Veemon managed to make out words. Murmurs that both stoked his curiosity and impelled him to do something. "Felicia's right... It was all my fault. Because of me."

Veemon did the only thing anyone else would've done at that moment: he hugged him back. Strong and tight. Chris was so absorbed in his despair he didn't even notice. "Because... of me..."

Without muttering a single word, Veemon swore he'd try something tomorrow morning. Something that would get all this off his mind...

* * *

Wargreymon settled Taichi Yagami on the ground. Everything within a 500-meter radius had disintegrated into dust. Such was the power of _Gaia Force_. The Ultimate level did not devolve. Instead he stood by his partner, watching over him.

* * *

Taichi finally woke up, regaining his senses. A full moon. A clear sky, dotted with stars.

The Child of Courage recognized WarGreymon's silver, Chrome Digizoid breastplate. The digimon's fully-protected face stared at him, green eyes replete with concern. "Heh," he snickered. "We… we survived."

Taichi rose, brushing the dust off his short, brown hair. _Really lucky it isn't an afro anymore._ "Did they"—for lack of a better term—"respawn?"

WarGreymon shook his head., to Taichi's joy. "We're safe, Taichi."

The elder Yagami sighed. _Man __**that**__ was intense_. He stared up at the DSI HQ. _Retreat or press on?_ Taichi was alone now. Infiltrating the building at this point was risky. Then again, he couldn't turn his back on the sacrifices Yuuko, Junas, and their platoons made. Rika was probably dead now. He hadn't heard from her ever since their little spat preceding the ambush in the sewers.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Sounds of someone applauding interrupted Taichi before he could finalize his next decision. Wargreymon's eyes narrowed, turning feral. A female voice broke the tranquil silence. "Wonderful!"

"Who's there?"

Taichi Yagami picked up his M240 from the ground, reloading it. Eyes were peeled. Who was watching them? Was she hostile? Or friendly?

"Taichi!" Wargreymon exclaimed. His snout faced the sky. "Up there!"

The Child of Courage couldn't believe his eyes. The speaker was a woman. She looked human, but from the way she was floating down in the night sky, her eyes an unnatural, verdant green, her emerald clothes revealing and expressive of her bombastic features, she was anything but that. He didn't like the sadistic gleam in those unnerving spheres. "Who are you?" demanded Taichi, his shaking voice a telltale sign of his suspicion.

His question was ignored. "I **never** expected anyone," she was saying, "to discover the weaknesses of the Gatespawn, much less survive the first wave."

Taichi found her reply intriguing. Confusing. The Gatespawn? The "first wave"? _What was she talking about_?

The Chosen Child's instincts were quick to supply him with the answer.

_._

_._

_A black shadow pounced from the alley, landing on the screaming man and devouring him in seconds. The moonlight gave the creature away: a black-skinned reptile the size of a small horse, whose head resembled a snake's to an extent. _

.

.

"Your ability to summon miracles from your **useless, pathetic** struggles to survive reminds me so much of the Fifth Crusader. Stubborn, never yielding, to his last breath."

.

.

_The Demon Lord's eyes dilated in shock as a headless suit of armor his height ventured into the open. It was as black as the reptilian beasts attacking them, yet the material its armor seemed impervious to any attack. He watched the new opponent reach back for a greatsword as tall as itself, slamming it into the ground with a deafening boom. Beelzemon could discern the deep crater it made in the concrete. _

.

.

Taichi started to shake. "Then you," his voice trembled. "You, y-you, you control those.. .those THINGS?" _And all of them… were just__ the __**first wave?**_

She sent him a compliment. "Even your intuition is similar."

"Answer me!"

"You got me right on the money," came the confession, acknowledging the Child of Courage. "I am Felicia Portal," the woman introduced herself, acting like Taichi's very survival entitled him to her name.

"Wh-where, where are you from?"

"Beyond the edge of this reality," was her cryptic reply.

He didn't quite understand her response. Neither did WarGreymon. One thing, nonetheless, was clear. This "Felicia Portal" was an outsider. A third party. She had nothing to do with either the Digital Suppression Initiative or the Digidestined.

_And yet she acted!_ Taichi dared to pose his question. "Why," he began, "did you intervene?"

She smirked, amused by his rather perceptive response. Then Felicia suddenly vanished, leaving behind a ripple in space.

Taichi and WarGreymon looked around. _Where'd she go?_

Out of the blue Felicia's pristine face popped next to Taichi's, her warm voice hissing into his left ear.

.

.

"**Because** **I was bored**."

.

.

Hearing that made Taichi snap. "W, w, w, w-w-w-wh-what did you say?"

"You heard what I said." She chuckled. "I was bored waiting."

Taichi's entire body trembled. The Child of Courage was enraged. "You sent in those lizards and suits of armor... you killed most of my friends, their digimon, and even slaughtered the soldiers we fought… **JUST BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO?**"

He unsheathed a combat knife and attempted to stab Felicia Portal in the neck. She did not bother avoiding the attack, letting him take the kill.

The knife _bounced off her skin_, to Taichi's astonishment. WarGreymon snatched Taichi and backed away from Felicia by a great distance. The Child of Courage raised the combat knife. Shock filled his eyes when he saw the blade—one of the sharpest he acquired from Pakistan—had **bent** beyond repair.

"There's something off about her," WarGreymon cautioned. Taichi could feel his protective arms shivering madly. "Her presence. It's absurdly strong. Menacing."

"I didn't just send the Gatespawn!" bragged Felicia. "You want to know how those soldiers found you under the sewers? How they mobilized so quickly to your operation?"

His eyes widened in horror. _That's why most of the operatives in my platoon died. _"YOU WERE RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT?"

Felicia laughed, pointing at some skyscrapers in the distance. "I even teleported a squad to those buildings over there." Taichi instantly recognized it as Rika's perch.

The elder Yagami could no longer contain his anger. The courageous sacrifices of his friends, the deaths of Yuuko, Junas, Rika, and everyone under them, were all **due to the whims of this woman, THIS OUTSIDER**, standing before him? And like a child playing with a doll, this bitch even turned on her assumed allies and had her pets slaughter everyone without prejudice?

This nonchalant waste of lives riled the Child of Courage. "WARGREYMON, KILL HER!"

"You don't even have to ask!" retorted WarGreymon, sharing the same feelings as Taichi. He raised his arms, gathering as much energy as he could from the atmosphere, condensing it into the strongest _Gaia Force_ he could ever muster. Felicia Portal just stood there, watching. The cruel, sadistic smirk of hers never left her face.

Meanwhile, Taichi emptied one entire clip of bullets, every single shot striking her. Felicia did not move. His aim, completely accurate. When the clip ran out on him, he scrutinized the Realmdrifter's form. Taichi was astonished to see none of the bullets even hurt her, ricocheting off her body harmlessly.

"Are you finished?"

"Just getting started!" Taichi rejoined. He surveyed WarGreymon's _Gaia Force_. The ball of energy had accumulated so much power it turned blue. _Perfect._ "WARGREYMON! FULL CHARGE, GAIA FORCE!"

WarGreymon grunted in response, hurling the azure orb of energy at the Realmdrifter. He hovered a hundred feet off the ground, watching the woman in green. Felicia Portal opted not to evade the strongest _Gaia Force_ thrown by WarGreymon. Instead she raised her hand, opening her palm towards the orb, warmly welcoming the attack.

When the bright blue _Gaia Force_ crashed on Felicia's fingertips, instead of a massive explosion, the orb simply shrunk, growing smaller and smaller, becoming greener by the second. After only ten seconds the orb had contracted to its smallest. From a massive, blue sphere of a 20-foot radius down to an infinitesimal ball of lime green, about six inches in diameter. Taichi's jaw dropped.

"In the end this is among the best your pitiful universe can offer." She dispersed the inert orb on the ground. Flexing her hands, Felicia's wrist and hands were engulfed in the same, yellow-green energy, the size twice as the ball WarGreymon's full-charged _Gaia Force_ had been converted to. One second passed, and that's all it took for Felicia to disappear.

"WarGreymon, she's attacking!"

* * *

_A Chosen digimon, the strongest of the Twelve, was fated to perish in a forest, amidst despair, disappointment, and grief. His comrades would be left in dejection, to be crushed within days. Calamity would've fallen upon the Digital Monsters in a month or two. Mercy wouldn't dare shine its eye over the Real World either; the Digidestined faced organizational decapitation, its members destined to live a life of scorn, despair, and helplessness for generations, tainted by the Digital Suppression Initiative, by the monster called society._

.

.

Felicia Portal appeared before WarGreymon, flying in the air, her fist aimed for the Ultimate digimon's neck. If there's one thing he learned from that _Gaia Force _bungle, it was that one of those equated to a tiny ball of green energy. The woman soaring towards him at this very moment had **two of those** in her hands, the size about twice as large. In other words, one punch from her meant getting hit by a full-charged _Gaia Force_ **twice **in rapid succession.

WarGreymon evaded her attack and countered, striking downwards with his sharp claws, its blades superheated by the energy building up in them. "WAR DRIVER!"

All the warrior digimon struck was a ripple in the air. Felicia reappeared behind him, slamming her fist into WarGreymon's spine. However, the Digimon of Courage had fast reflexes, and he managed to block the attack with his left arm.

Felicia's strike **penetrated the gauntlet**, amputating his left forearm. The severed limb burst into data. The woman in green wasn't finished. Immediately after cutting off WarGreymon's limb she somersaulted in midair, slamming her foot on the digimon's head.

WarGreymon descended rapidly. He flipped over at the last second and rebounded off the rubble, shaking the ground Taichi stood on. As he approached the Realmdrifter, WarGreymon started spinning on his own axis, extending his arms and building up energy in them until a massive tornado of fire wrapped itself around him. "GREY FIRE!"

Smaller gusts of superheated wind shot at Felicia, each one she avoided with relative ease. WarGreymon assumed her concentration was focused on evasion and continued to the next phase of his attack: by manipulating the energy in the tornado enveloping him, WarGreymon easily built up another orb of fire. "GAIA FORCE!" He hurled the orange ball at Felicia.

.

.

_Then change made its unprecedented descent, pronouncing its catholic decree through a friendship borne from _force majeure_, a relationship made solely from pure coincidence. The fated death did not come to pass. A crushing blow to the Digital Monsters failed to make a significant impact. Indeed, the future has changed. Whether it led to happiness or not is but a question left to the viccissitudes of time, the infinite depths of uncertainty._

.

.

Apparently he was not the only one who could construct a sphere of energy. Felicia Portal retreated, teleporting farther back but still in the _Gaia Force_'s line of fire. She brought her arms to her right, palms facing up and down as if she held an invisible globe. Then he saw it: the same lime energy forming, growing larger as the seconds passed.

It was hard to see, but WarGreymon swore he saw the energy become greener, from lime to celadon. At this point, the Ultimate's attack was upon her. Wanting to make sure he at least injured the conceited bitch, WarGreymon charged up another _Gaia Force_.

"ÆTHER STRIKE!" Felicia Portal pummeled the celadon orb, jabbing it straight forward into the tornado-fueled _Gaia Force_. The latter was **consumed completely** by Felicia's attack—_her_ projectile did not shrink by a significant margin!

WarGreymon was done with his attack and, hoping for the best, launched the blue orb airborne. "FULL CHARGE, GAIA FORCE!"

The two attacks collided.

.

.

_There is no such thing as permanence. Next to God, Change is the universe's only constant. It may affect the null hypothesis_—_the dominant structure_—_as a subtle shift. Or an abrupt rupture. What causes change, no matter the size of it, ranges from the most apparent to the most insignificant, a variation so immense in entirety it masks a truth many fail to understand and internalize: the smallest measure, the tiniest unit, is fundamental to everything, where one minor change would have far-reaching consequences. Good. _

_And bad._

.

.

Felicia's _Æther Strike_ survived. Hurtling towards WarGreymon, he vied to elude it, rescue Taichi, and escape while they still can. His opponent was one step ahead of them. Before he could fly towards his human half, the Digimon of Courage felt strong hands grasp his right foot. Directly below him, to WarGreymon's horror, was Felicia Portal herself! The air still rippled, indicating fresh teleportation.

"Accept defeat," the woman in green uttered, spinning and tossing WarGreymon straight into her own attack.

In mid-flight, the Ultimate attempted to stop himself from falling victim to the attack completely. He tried to change the course his body took, but the speeds of both the giant celadon orb and himself were too fast for him. WarGreymon's abdomen and below slammed into it. The chrome digizoid he wore, being slightly æther-resistant, caused the giant orb to explode, dispersing in the atmosphere as a wave of yellow-green.

* * *

"WarGreymon!" Taichi was frantic, worried for his partner digimon.

Staring at the night sky, he discerned a small figure falling from above. Taichi opened his arms and caught the remains of WarGreymon. The Ultimate level, upon defeat, devolved not into Agumon, not into Koromon, but into a black, squishy, yellow-eyed digimon Taichi could hold in one hand. It was Botamon, Agumon's first Baby Form.

.

.

_Philosophers and entrepreneurs alike called it a fact of life._

.

.

Felicia reappeared in the sky and hovered several storeys above the Child of Courage. A triumphant grin was plastered on her face. The second wave of Gatespawn materialized around Taichi. Soon the elder Yagami was surrounded by snarling reptiles and silent suits of armor, their swords thirsty for blood.

.

.

_Scientists went further and gave it a name._

.

.

Taichi Yagami collapsed on his knees, utterly defeated. WarGreymon lost the battle, his opponent securing victory with little effort. _I should've listened, Hikari. _He bowed his head, closing his eyes, wishing he listened to the pleas of his younger sister. _I should've listened._ "I'm sorry…"

The ferocious beasts encircling him did not attack. Felicia Portal scratched her chin; a grim smile was etched on her face. "Now, what am I going to do with you?"

.

.

_The Butterfly Effect._

.

.

.

_Once again, Christopher Van Numen upheaves present history, bringing calamity upon Operation: Pyramid! Chris, aware of the chaos pursuing him, acceded to the human need for companionship as he relived a despair preceding t he First Contact. _

_How will Chris sever ties to this universe, when he is slowly anchoring himself to Veemon? What awaits the Chosen Child of Courage now, kneeling before power overwhelming? How will the media respond to the attack? How will Hikari Yagami react to the news? Coming up next on _The Interloper_, 'Awkward Situation'._

* * *

**Post-chapter Author's Notes:**

[5] Hahaha! I'm really happy right now. This chapter officially completes the **second major battle **in _The Interloper_. I usually view "major events" as milestones of progress when writing stories (every endeavor should have a key performance indicator you must track when you've got a goal in mind!). In this story, there are about seven or eight of them. That pretty much means I'm 25% through the storyline.

[6] If you don't remember what aether is, then I direct you to the post-chapter author's notes of Chapter 5. For information regarding Christopher's Realm Scanner, then go to chapter 2! ^_^

[7] In this chapter, it is revealed that the Digital Suppression Initiative has more anti-digimon technology other than the _Fatigue Metal_ and the _Lockheed Dispersion Coating_. It is not explicitly stated in the narrative, but the following were used:

**Zone Emulator: **produces a 50m diameter digital field that provides source material for digital modification and makes it easy to reprogram digital data made flesh. Can be used to make digital attacks/defenses more potent.

**Neutralizer: **Inflicts pain, also has 50% chance of sealing attacks. Effect occurs upon contact and remains so long as contact is maintained. Must penetrate the target. Applicable to bullets, knives.

So, counting the four used in _The Butterfly Effect_, we now have a total of seven technologies: Fatigue Metal, Lockheed Dispersion Coating, Neutralizers, Zone Emulators, and Triband Suppressors, on top of Kurata's Digital Dive System, and Yamaki's Digital Modification. It's a very comprehensive and potent arsenal. No wonder the Chosen Children were fighting a losing battle... and to think the digimon were supposed to be wild cards!

[8] Regarding the Gatespawn, these are basically minions commanded by Christopher's true enemies. They are not digimon, but real beasts, in all senses of the word. The first one encountered by Taichi (and Rika) is called an "Ereba" (ee-ree-bah), a ravenous creature imbued with resilient skin and immense strength and agility. The second is the "Hadraal" (had-rah-ahl). It is a headless suit of armor controlled by some unknown entity within it, wielding a katzbalger with a 15-foot blade. The weapon can cut through most objects and is extremely light for its size. The armor comprising the hadraal's exoskeleton is impervious to most attacks, vulnerable only to aether.

Coincidentally, Christopher's breastplate in the chapters preceding the Midnight Assault was made from this. Though the DITE was created in a different world, the raw material used was a shattered portion of the hadraal's katzbalger. It should be noted that the weakpoints of the Gatespawn are internal: inside the mouth for the ereba, and through the hole in the neck for the hadraal. As to _what_ the Gatespawn are and how exactly they are related to Chris, that's a spoiler I won't reveal until it's apt to do so. :)

[9] The attacks used by WarGreymon in this chapter, _War Driver_ and _Grey Fire_, came straight from the second Digimon Rumble Arena game.

[10] Truncated responses to reviews (if any):

[11] **15 Mar 2012 EDIT:**

Tweaked the scenes involving the Hadraal's first appearance to add more character or oomph to Taichi's reactions since I felt it needed the changes. Also rewrote the contents of Christopher's flashbacks to make it stronger and emphasize his character.


	14. Awkward Situation

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] AGAIN, because of a word count that breached the 20,000 mark, I have decided to halve_ Three_ into two separate chapters. Word count for chapter 14, now named "Awkward Situation", is about 10,250. Manageable. Chapter 15, the second half of _Three_, is actually complete as well. However, I'm still proofreading the dialogue in the second half of the chapter, trying to make it as realistic as possible. As of 15 Jan 2011, chapter 15 has been posted, its title "Defusal".

[2] This is basically my gift for the 2010 holiday season. I'm happy that I at least made it before the New Year's deadline. Hahaha. It's really hard, since personal (well, more of work, AGAIN) situation is starting to crap my life up. Tsk tsk tsk. But... **THANK GOD FOR COLLEGEHUMOR'S VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE**. They never fail to crack me up!

[3] No recommended songs or anything. Keep an eye out for some references to other anime series. ^^ There's a lot of story content in this chapter and the next, hehe. :P I enjoyed planning and writing this chapter. Hope the same applies to you.

* * *

Today was the 16th of October, year 2013.

At dawn the country of Japan woke to the countless debris and bodies littering Shinjuku—the aftermath of Taichi's _Operation: Pyramid_. Forensic investigators would report most of the bodies were those of the DSI's rookie security and some of its veteran soldiers. Others were the carcasses of the Digidestined.

However, some of the corpses were disfigured or dismembered beyond recognition. Fewer were those that couldn't be found at all. One of them was the body of Taichi Yagami, whose participation was set in stone by an eyewitness account confirming the presence of WarGreymon. To deter the morale of the surviving Digidestined, the official story promulgated the fearless terrorist's death, cause and corpse's location unknown.

Soldiers were unearthed from beneath the rubble, alive, kept preserved by tanks. They confirmed multiple Adult digimon ransacking the city, detailing the events of the previous night. The Digidestined attacked from three separate points, one of them led by the Chosen Child himself. How the battle went to the DSI's favor would forever remain in mystery; these were the only survivors of the ambush.

A military vehicle lumbered towards the twin towers of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government, stopping before it. Emerging from within was a man clad in a three-piece suit, his opaque sunglasses gleaming in the golden light of dawn. The wind ruffled his dirty blond hair. Mitsuo Yamaki stretched the pallid gloves on his hands and adjusted his tie.

Journalists were upon him like piranhas swarming all over their prey. He was, after all, Vice-Chairman of the Digital Suppression Initiative. His position was imbued with worldwide authority. No person would dare step up to challenge his judgment and ability, lest risk incurring the utter wrath of a global, military coalition.

Yamaki's two bodyguards, Kamina Ross and Akari Kudou—labeled by the populace as the "Twin Titans"—easily repelled the journalists overwhelming the Vice-Chair, cutting a path through the throng of people barring him from the twin towers.

As Yamaki strolled to the entrance, a bead of sweat ran down his face. He gulped, thinking today would be one of the most stressful days he'd ever have in his career, dealing with damage control, government and DSI policies, and acerbic criticisms. Politics was never really Yamaki's thing. Unfortunately it came with his job description. The Vice-Chairman shuddered at the thought of his lone superior shouting at him when he returned to the HQ.

Indeed, today was going to be a long day. Mitsuo Yamaki looked forward to a serene moment at his special place once everything was over…

* * *

While the Vice-Chairman of the Digital Suppression Initiative filled his hands with diplomacy and all political responsibilities, the Military & Administration Wing of the DSI stirred with life. Deep beneath Shinjuku, spanning an area as wide as the enclosed perimeter on the surface, was a crisscrossing complex of military hangars, barracks, armories, and holding cells.

Several elevators were scattered throughout the subterranean structure, leading to the upper levels where the DSI conducted its corporate and administrative operations. Corridors from there sprawled towards multiple living quarters and recreation areas reserved for soldiers, offices for the commissioned officers and meetings held for strategy, and a number of small armories in case the base was assaulted.

Hallways branched out from there, providing multiple entry and exit points to the bulk of the military complex: nine massive hangars containing weapons caches, military-grade vehicles of superior quality, including Type 89 battle tanks, Apache helicopters, and anti-SCAI technology mass-produced for the DSI. Each hangar, box in form, had a colossal rail run across one side, exuding wires connected to the wall. The other side had several tunnels leading to the surface above.

At the very center of this complex was the Digital Dive System, brainchild of Dr. Akihiro Kurata, Ph. D. The DDS, as it was colloquially termed, was comprised of two chambers: one containing computer terminals—the only ones connected to the Internet in this underground base!—and a glass cylinder capable of fitting at most a party of thirty, each person packed like sardines; and the other housing the powerful hardware powering the entire system, monitoring incoming and outgoing traffic, cutting off all unauthorized transmissions, and of course, intercepting anomalous realizations of any objects from the Digital World.

The glass cylinder and the parallelogramatical rails of the nine hangars were all connected to the DDS, used as portals into the Digital World. Capable of plotting exit coordinates with 97% accuracy, these were used to deploy DSI personnel and equipment almost anywhere in the Digital World, ranging from an elite squad of veteran soldiers for focused operations to regiments of militarymen carrying anti-SCAI technology for an all-out invasion.

The seemingly ubiquitous range of the deployment points emphasized the importance of acquiring the coordinates for the Digimon Tactician's main base.

Every soldier living in M&A dubbed these hangars "The Nine Gates", paying homage to the DDS.

Proximity to the battlefield and a treasure trove of intercepted information from the Internet made M&A crucial to the progress of all science immersed in the Digital World and its SCAIs, to the extent each of the Nine Gates were linked to a train shaft leading to the Research & Development Wing.

An R&D scientist fidgeted before the DDS's glass cylinder. He tucked in his olive-green turtleneck and, out of compulsion, took it out, letting it droop loosely around the waist. The man straightened his white lab coat, adjusting the old-fashioned circular glasses on the bridge of his nose just to look at the golden _Rolex_ on his wrist.

Dr. Akihiro Kurata, Ph.D., eagerly flaunted the perks of being R&D's Head Scientist, a position second only to Mitsuo Yamaki himself. It's been a week since the DDS was put under maintenance; now that his own masterpiece was back in action… Kurata was filled with glee, excitement glazing his beady eyes. Impatient, he tapped his own fingers. "Why're they taking so long?"

As if choreographed, an intense white light filled the tube. Kurata's jaw dropped in a wide smirk. _At last!_ When the light tapered out, a party of three stood in the cylinder, each clad in navy-blue. A typical DSI commander would recognize them as veterans: almost a misconstrual, for these three were volunteers in Yamaki's _Digital Modification_ project.

Of course, these three were Kurata's beta testers as well, having been provided with DSI's prototype dark matter technology for test runs. A section of the cylinder slid down, releasing the Modifiers from its bosom. The few soldiers stationed in the DDS saluted before their seniors. "Welcome back!" Kurata greeted, anxious to begin conversing.

The blond woman, whose yellow hair was obviously dyed, sauntered first, leading the black American-Japanese hybrid and the redheaded woman out. "Didn't expect R&D's head scientist to welcome us," murmured the young lady, her light-brown eyes glaring at Kurata. "Where the hell's Yamaki?"

_Always so straight to the point, aren't you, Lucy?_ Kurata suppressed a smirk and a witty remark. "Busy being a dog of the Japanese government," the scientist retorted. "Damage control. Politics. Interviews with those annoying journalists. You know the drill."

Lucille Diaz slammed her boot into a nearby wall, showing no concern for the computer hardware directly next to it. Kurata was aghast. "No! You might damage the system!" These walls had plenty of wires snaking through them, spreading out to the rest of the military complex.

The Black man, however, seized Lucy's and Kurata's attention when he tendered a question. "The Vice-Chair's out doing all that? Did, something happen?"

All three of them turned on him. The technicians and other soldiers in the room returned to their business, the former monitoring the network and studying the data, and the latter remaining still. Few of them were his personal escorts. Nonetheless they were all watching, relief washing over them subtly. Lucy was infamous in the DSI as a fiery woman, with a torrid attitude to match.

"Digidestined attacked us last night," coughed Kurata. "Killed plenty of our men."

The scientist preempted their next question. "Chosen Child planned and led the battle. Taichi Yagami, I think. I have absolutely **no idea** how that attack failed; M&A's defenses are pretty weak ever since the mass deployment…"

"That's new," scoffed Aldo. "An R&D nerd's talking about defenses?" He disregarded the subtle scowl forming on the scientist's face, tittering. "Go back to your computers; you know nothing about M&A, foo'."

Lucille uttered a single remark, "Makes me happy knowing another liar's dead." There was a slight joy in her words.

"That's the official story," Kurata spoke, forgetting about Kikuchi. "Truth is, he's incarcerated in the holding cells. For questioning, obviously."

The yellow-haired woman cracked her knuckles, smirking malevolently. "Let me at 'im. I'll make him crack," she verbalized. Her intent to torment the Child of Courage was apparent.

Kurata shook his head. "Sorry but if you want to do _that _you'll have to bring it up with the Vice-Chair."

She rolled her eyes. "When's he coming back?"

The head scientist shrugged. "Who knows? Politics is a long, bureaucratic process. I'm happy I'm not dealing with that shit." Then he squealed. "Now… let's get to business, shall we?"

Lucy was taken aback. "What do you want?"

A finger pointed at the black guns held by the Modifiers. "The Chairman's pet project gave you those weps," apprised Kurata. "He's assigned me to get some feedback." R&D's head scientist rubbed his hands vigorously. "Sooooooo, report! How was the Midnight Assault? You like the new weapons?"

* * *

Lucille was startled, not expecting the questions pouring from the head scientist's mouth. _You're asking us to report to __**you?**_ She resisted the urge to kick him in the balls. _Just who do you think you are?_

Aldo Kikuchi was about to answer them when Lucy elbowed him. "Sorry, Dr. Kurata," she dismissed, "but we **only**"—she made sure to stress that word as strongly as she could—"answer to the Vice-Chairman.

"And the Chairman himself, of course."

Kurata nodded, acquiescing to her rebuttal. His mouth curled into a disappointed frown, though Lucy swore she saw a grin flash momentarily, as if she just passed a test. "Guess I got ahead of myself there," he laughed, adjusting his glasses. "I apologize; I'm simply the head scientist."

He clapped his hands. "Well! I still need some feedback about the dark matter weapons."

"Dark matter?" repeated Aldo. "Don't you mean _æther_?"

"Æther?" Kurata blinked. "Is _that_ what it's called?"

"Well…"

Lucille didn't want to deal with this crap. She wanted to talk to Mitsuo Yamaki, but given the situation, she was definitely going to wait a bit. Lucy would much rather waste time in the shooting range, or check up on the other Modifiers—spread the word about the blond responsible for their failure in the first place. Hopefully Ivy and Junko were still around.

The yellow-haired Modifier snaked her arm across Aldo's shoulder, reeling him in. She never noticed his slight blush. "Dr. Kurata, Aldo's the most knowledgeable of these, dark matter guns. Too damn excited to use one!" She gazed at him. "Bet you're anxious to talk about it, too."

Lucy gave the black man a friendly slap in the back. "You don't really need us, do you, Dr. Kurata?"

The head scientist stroked his chin, humming for a few seconds. "Aldo **does** seem to know more about this dark matter," murmured Kurata. He chortled. "Looks like he's coming with me then." He was beside the scout and, gently nudging him from behind, led him out of the DDS chamber, intending to bring him towards R&D. "We've got **plenty** of things to talk about, Kikuchi, was it? We'll start with the potency of dark matter on SCAI's…"

Aldo glanced back at her. Lucy thought he was going to give her a nasty glare when instead the scout simply mouthed out a few words before chatting animatedly with the head scientist. Diaz knew what he probably said: "You owe me a few drinks tonight!"

Before they could proceed out, however, Kurata's personal bodyguards impeded both Lucy and Tina, demanding they surrender the experimental weapons they carried on their person. R&D's protocol was to automatically seize all prototypes used in the field. It had been that way with the first digivice used in Digital Modification, the first Zone Emulator, et al. Neither she nor Fujieda had qualms about it.

Emerging into the cobalt blue corridors of the DSI's M&A Wing, Lucille Diaz started for the living quarters with the intention of speaking with the other veteran Modifiers—Junko and Ivy—when Tina Fujieda finally spoke. "Uhm…"

Lucy turned towards the girl. "Here." Some papers were shoved to her face, its side gripped tightly by trembling hands. "My, m-my resignation papers."

"You're really quitting on us, aren't you?" muttered the Modifier.

Tina nodded, gazing back at Lucy, her eyes filled with humility and fear, expecting some kind of passionate scolding from the Modifier. _I'm not that kind of person_, chuckled Lucille. "I understand," she uttered. "You don't need to say anything. But… what do you plan on doing afterward?"

"A peacekeeper," Tina answered. The peacekeepers, though employed by the DSI, were relatively safe as a profession. Compensation wasn't going to be as high, but like any other DSI position, the Japanese government ensured generous tax credits for them. Best of all, the peacekeepers didn't have to work 24/7 and weren't required to live in M&A. Becoming one would let her maintain a healthy relationship with her younger sister, Yoshino.

Lucy decided to give Tina some support. "You got me as a reference," she encouraged, taking the documents.

Tina blinked, suddenly giving the yellow-haired Modifier a sudden, tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then she absconded towards the corridors to her designated living quarters. Lucille Diaz watched the woman run off, empathizing with her. She must've been dreadfully worried. The Modifier snickered. Worry was a feeling she missed.

_The helpless girl, shrouded in darkness, stifled her sobs as she watched a vicious monster rip her parents into shreds, assisting the pale-skinned robber pilfering her home. The guns brandished by the adults were no match for the beast's speed, resilience, and power. What should've been a happy Fourth of July became the United States' first official tragedy with the self-conscious artificial intelligences colloquially called digimon._

Lucille winced at the memory. The images of the past rarely strike her, and whenever they did, all she felt was black rage. This anger was not reserved for these accursed monsters. No. It was reserved for the liars promoting them. Lucy clenched her fists.

"_The criminal will be found soon, honey. You can count on them. On us. Right, Palmon?"_

Gut-wrenching envy tugged at Lucy's chest. At least Tina still had a sister to care for and protect. She had no family to begin with. The Fourth of July incident, after all, wasn't just a murder of a married couple, but the massacre of an entire family. **Her** family.

No hopeful wishes would ever bring the Diaz clan back to life. No matter how many times Lucille killed a SCAI, the past would never change. It was her fate to live alone.

"_Liar! You're all liars!"_

It was also her duty to make sure that fate does not happen to anyone else. The first thing that had to be done, she thought, was slaughter all the liars promoting the false concept of liberated SCAI's being dependable friends, i.e. the Digidestined, the Twelve.

_A single gunshot. Blood splattering all over the young girl's body._

This was Lucille Diaz's conviction.

* * *

_The two-storey house was blanketed by several explosions, from multiple sides. A number of rocket-propelled grenades struck the building, one of them launched by a maniacal red-haired man, egged by a woman with yellow, dyed hair. "DO IT, REEVES!" she encouraged._

_Hikari stared at the house, gaping at its crumbling foundations in horror, collapsing on her knees, water blurring her vision. She screamed, the image of a young man reverberating in her head, over and over again. "TAAAAKKKEEEERRRUUUU!"_

The Child of Light awoke with a start, moving the pink, fluffy pillows and comforter. She gasped, her heart pounding rapidly. Tears streamed down Hikari's smooth face, her hazel eyes blinking. Something warm and furry touched Hikari's hand. It was Tailmon's paw. She was sound asleep, purring like the cute feline she was.

Hikari Yagami found herself in her own room, and she wondered how she got there in the first place. Wasn't she in Taichi's room last night? How did—who brought—

.

.

_"You don't give up easy, do you?" mused the Child of Courage. "I already told you, you're not falling with me." Taichi Yagami took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."_

_"I'm really, really sorry, Hikari."_

_Pain suddenly overwhelmed her, her belly being its epicenter. Hikari fell, enfeebled by the blow. Taichi, her own brother—her own flesh and blood!—struck her solar plexus using a fist imbued with strength reserved only for enemies. Her fluttering eyes glanced up at her brother, whose face was marred with grief. The very thought of punching the person he loved so much invoked flowing tears. "You can kill me when I come back tomorrow."_

.

.

The younger Yagami bolted from the bed. _That idiot punched me!_ _He punched his own sister!_ By instinct, Hikari made for the door, only to be held back by Tailmon, who was woken up by the girl's panicked movements.

"Hikari," mumbled her sleepy voice. "It's no use. Taichi, Taichi never returned to the base."

She gasped. "W-what?"

"Mantarou found you at Daisuke's memorial," the feline stated. "He brought you here."

"Well, I'm going after him anyway." She hurried, taking off her white sleeping gown, revealing a thin, black vest that provided some level of protection against bullets. Hikari slipped her hands through moss-green arm warmers, which extended up to her elbows, and swiftly put on a citrine blouse. The Child of Light went to her closet and wore auburn pants and matching shoes. "He's probably in the HQ by now." She seized Takeru's old shirt and tied it around her neck like a scarf.

"Hikari…"

She approached a bedside table and pulled out a drawer, taking from it a handgun and its holster. Judging by Tailmon's silence, she thought, the Digimon of Light probably had some reservations about following the operatives alone. "Don't worry about it, Tailmon." She pocketed a pair of brass knuckles. "Remember, we know about the hidden path to the DSI HQ."

Tailmon called out again. "Hikari…"

Hikari wasn't listening, assuming the digimon's concern was directed towards the so-called hidden path. "I know Rika and the core group were saying it could be bugged, but it's the perfect chance to catch up with Taichi undetected—

"HIKARI!"

Hikari halted, ogling Tailmon. They made eye contact. Her hazel eyes gazed into the feline's cerulean. "Tailmon?" The digimon had a sad look on her face.

"It's pointless, Hikari." She glanced at the digital clock on top of the bedside desk, which Hikari apparently ignored. "It's seven in the morning. The operation's over."

"I-it, is?"

"Yeah, but," Tailmon's voice trailed. Her tiny body was trembling, hesitating to disclose the bad news.

Hikari dropped the holstered firearm. "But what?" The clang echoed, reverberating throughout the tiny room.

Her digimon partner couldn't say it. She bit her lip, diffident.

"But what?" shrieked Hikari.

Tailmon closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed in melancholy.

The Child of Light collapsed on her knees, deducing the reason behind the cat's persisting silence. "N-no..."

"Only Rika and Renamon returned, Hikari," apprised Tailmon. "Everyone else," she suppressed a choke. "Everyone else… they, t-they, died."

Hikari brought her head to the floor. "No," she tried to say; only a whimper escaped. She wept. Uncontrollably. Tailmon was immediately beside the Child of Light, hugging her human half. This gesture of empathy, of comfort, failed to console her. She clutched Takeru's shirt, crying into it. A golden bracelet—a present from Daisuke for her 18th birthday—dangled on her right wrist, the word "_ALWAYS_"engraved on it.

"They're gone," she whimpered. "They're all gone." Unable to hold it in she screeched, muffling her melancholy with the turquoise, yellow-striped shirt.

"I'm still here, Hikari," Tailmon repeated, her ears drooping. "I'm still here."

Her words fell on deaf ears.

* * *

Though his eyes were shut, Christopher regained consciousness. He woke from his slumber at 9.30 in the morning. Becoming aware of his surroundings, Chris heard Veemon's relaxed breathing and felt the dragon's snout resting on the side of his head. The Digimon of Miracles clung tightly to the blond in his sleep, hands and legs latched around his upper body in a tight hug, as if Veemon knew Chris's exhibit of agony the previous night, as if he wanted to show he cared.

The blond stirred, immediately detecting his nose's and right cheek's resistance to movement—it was sticky: an obvious consequence of Veemon using Chris as a pillow. There was a faint smell lingering on these spots, one that reminded Chris of mayonnaise. He slowly opened his goldenrod eyes and found the blue dragon slumbering cozily before him.

Chris hadn't released the Chosen from the embrace he initiated in his anguish. To his confusion, the sleeping dragon and his warm hug made Christopher feel better. Did this good feeling arise from a sense of security? From Veemon's subconscious display of concern? Or from Chris's own acknowledgment of having someone to seek support from?

This cogitation solicited a sad smile from the blond. Veemon was a great friend. Chris liked him. He wanted to hang out with the blue dragon for a little longer. He might have even considered helping him find Daisuke. But, regrettably, today was going to be the day they part. He had to stick to this decision. The Chosen obstructed his mission to retrieve the Realmstone's third fragment, sidetracking him with his little whims and nostalgia. There was even the possibility this little friend of his would eventually ask him to join his fight against the Digital Suppression Initiative.

A noninterventionist at heart, Christopher believed he shouldn't let anyone sway his decisions like that. He was a third party, and further involvement with the Chosen and his comrades could lead to unforeseen consequences. The last thing he wanted was Felicia Portal—or his other pursuers—barging in and wreaking havoc in the name of his true enemies, whose identities and intentions were unknown to him. _I need to do this while I still can._

Drowsiness recaptured his goldenrod eyes. He nuzzled Veemon and started falling asleep, only for the digimon to wake up yawning. Chris had a good, _long _exposure to his morning breath, which would've been tolerable if the odor hadn't been so damn concentrated.

Finally awake, Veemon rubbed the crust off his crimson eyes. "Hey, Chris," he muttered groggily. "Mornin'."

One of Chris's eyebrows twitched. "Vee, you need a mint."

"Will it have chocolate on it?" He asked, almost drooling at the thought.

"Maybe?" Chris replied. "Man you're addicted to the stuff." He laughed.

Veemon laughed too and joined his mirth, tail wagging slowly. It was a relaxed setting, and Chris was relishing it to the fullest.

And apparently, so did Veemon, whose muzzle leaned closer to Chris' face and, without giving him the courtesy of a warning, deliberately gave the man a slow and wide lick. One that left his face drenched in slime.

"ACK!" His tone expressed surprise and nothing else. "Vee, what the hell—

Veemon burst in fits of laughter. "Couldn't resist it! Your face looked like it was _begging_ for it."

Christopher scowled in mock disgust. He grabbed the sheets and wiped his face, glaring at the dragon.

"You missed a spot," the Chosen snickered, undaunted by his friend's exasperation.

He groaned, going for another round with the blanket. When Chris was done, all he did was send at Veemon a stern and irritated gaze.

"Whaaat?" He taunted. "You're not getting back at me?"

Obviously Veemon expected him to do something silly.

_I'm not stooping to your level_. Chris was about to tell him off and say he was more mature than that but before he could even complete the word "mature", he spun 180° and decided to humor the Chosen. After all, today _was_ the last day.

"When I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy!" Chris lunged at the Digimon of Miracles. Their arms locked together and, beginning a long wrestling match, the two of them rolled all over the bed. The blond made multiple attempts to catch Veemon in a submission hold, aiming to pin him down and tickle the dragon well beyond his limits.

Although Chris didn't apply his monstrous strength (as if playing with a fragile child), Veemon somehow _managed_ to keep himself one step ahead of Chris's grappling. The Chosen's agility enabled him to escape whatever the blond executed, may it be an arm bar, a choke using the blankets, and what have you.

During all this, Veemon was laughing heartily, giggling in such a way anyone could tell he found this fun. The two of them met each other in a stalemate, one inclining towards Chris's favor when the opportunity to catch Veemon's right arm presented itself. He pushed it to the Chosen's left, bringing it down closer to the neck. _I got you! _Then he rammed his free hand into his opponent's side, eliciting loud laughter from his victim. His scarlet eyes grew teary.

"Hahaha! S-Stop!" the dragon stammered, laughing uncontrollably. "S-s-stop it! I can't b-breathe! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Chris was enjoying this, infected by Veemon's game. "THEN TAP ME, VEE!" He demanded surrender, refusing to let up. "TAP! TAAAAAPPPPPP!"

"Haha, NEEVERRRRR!" It never occurred to Chris he _actually _knew what 'tapping' meant.

Refusing to concede, Veemon lifted his head and opened his mouth, letting his slimy tongue slither up across Chris' face in another slow, wide lick. The blond retreated with the intent to regroup and counterattack, only to be stopped by the dragon's free arm. Veemon shoved his opponent's face down into his tongue, confident its sickening viscosity and powerful stench would overwhelm any resistance the blond could put up.

_And victory's mine!_ He expected Christopher to be so thoroughly revolted by this he would withdraw like any other person would and put an end to the nauseating experience. In his experience, these reactions never had a happy ending: Veemon responded to them by forcing the flailing victim down into the embrace of his disgusting gullet until mercy was sought. Or, based on past grappling matches with Daisuke, until a deal was made between him and his disgusted opponent. Deals normally involving chocolate, special "rights", and other forms of bribery.

To Veemon's surprise, instead of retreating like a normal person, Christopher _persisted_. The blue dragon's cunning strategy didn't just fail. It **backfired** on him when his sparring partner _willingly_ and _knowingly_ pushed his face down. Chris disregarded the smell. He accepted the soft, slimy texture of the flesh cavern he shoved his head into without feeling sick. Proving himself completely immune to a tactic that worked countless times before, he went deeper into the muzzle until Veemon's jaw ached from being stretched too far. "Thought you can gross me out, eh?"

Gag reflex started to kick in. Christopher had deliberately immersed himself in something no sane person would just so he could lull him into a false sense of security before seizing the advantage. It didn't help that Chris was still attacking his sides. Hard to laugh, even breathe, with something really large in the mouth. "Bet you _never_ expected this!"

This was a new experience, even for him. An unprecedented counterattack, Veemon had never prepared for the event someone would actually defy the typical human reaction. Daisuke had always fallen victim to this strategy, giving in when forced to endure what the blond voluntarily chose. The Chosen had already considered accepting defeat when an idea flashed in his head. There was a solution to this problem. A solution involving moving his tongue across Chris' face and thrusting it into whatever orifices were available. Hygiene be damned.

"Crap, my eye!" Christopher's control over his pin softened, but the tickling did not stop.

After another ten seconds, his blond assailant _finally_ withdrew, sniffling. "Dammit, I got spit in my nose!" Grabbing the nearest item (a pillow) to get the liquid out his nostrils, "God, it feels so damn weird!"

"Bet you never expected _that_ either," mimicked Veemon, watching him with amusement. Half a minute later he lunged at the man, renewing the struggle. He tried to perform a chicken wing on his arm, but Chris escaped without much effort.

Neither were giving up until one of 'em triumphed.

Neither bothered to stop and wonder how the bed didn't even break, considering they were playing like a **couple of children** trying to best each other in a mock game of wrestling.

Unsurprisingly, they entered another stalemate when two minutes lapsed. Their hands were locked, trembling with strength, attempting to repel each other's strategies. Christopher watched Veemon open his mouth again, thinking him desperate to repeat a strategy that would never work on its third try.

_You're in for a surprise._ That second lick did not just help Chris acclimate to the malodorous scent of spoiled mayonnaise. It supplemented his retaliation and completed it, with which he was prepared to counter and secure victory. To his dismay, the blue dragon merely spoke, like he knew this battle would never end if they tried dominating each other like a pair of men possessed by competitive sport. "You know," he complimented, wearing a sly grin, "you're taking this a **loooooott** better than Daisuke ever did."

"Really now?" queried the blond, trying to guess the most immature reaction conceivable. "Did he try licking you back?"

The blue dragon mocked him. "Is that _seriously_ the best you came up with?"

Chris shut his eyes, looking slightly mortified but mostly sheepish.

Veemon's red eyes shot upward reminiscing. "Seven years ago, when I did this the first time, Daisuke chased me **all over the apartment** trying to whack me with a pillow!" He chuckled. "Third time, he was so embarrassed he imprisoned me in a backpack for revenge 'til Hikari scolded him."

Veemon went on. "And there was this other time"—A drop of sweat trickled down Chris's head. _Dude, __**how often**__ do you do this?_—"Daisuke threatened to stop giving me chocolate 'til I did Jun next."

"Jun?"

"Daisuke's sister," rejoined the dragon. "She's a sweet girl." He giggled. "Bit of a tomboy though. Hey, other than you, I've **never** seen any human punch so hard."

Chris chortled. "That's a sweet girl, all right." _She sounds like Milenna._ Since the game was practically over, he stopped grappling and sat up. "I know someone exactly like that."

The next question was startling. "Heh, she got a boyfriend?" _Did Veemon just imply girls like her don't usually get guys? _

He shrugged. "Dunno. Josh's the only one interested in Milenna."

"Who're they?"

Chris was about to tell him when his mind remembered what had happened to them in the past. Josh and Milenna were also in his party along with Sally and Ivan. They were in his spaceplane when Felicia disposed of it in the previous universe. They were subsequently presumed dead, though Chris hoped they somehow survived despite all odds. "Just some acquaintances," Chris lied. "Not really important."

Veemon sat up as well and gave him a curious stare. "By the way, Chris…"

"Yeah?"

"Uhm, why were you hugging me?"

Chris didn't expect that. He hesitated to answer, wondering if he should unload his frustrations on his friend, releasing the concealed anguish he had conveniently forgotten during their wrestling game. Reflecting on this, he decided. _I won't tell you anything anymore. _"Just an old habit of mine, Vee. That's all." The less Veemon knew, the easier it would be for Chris to sever their friendship later at Mt. Fuji. "Plus, you're like a stuffed animal."

The blond let out a light chuckle and returned the question to its inquirer. "I ought to ask **you** the same question."

Veemon glared at him as if Chris was supposed to know that. "I used to sleep with Daisuke every night…"

_Guess we have some old habits in common._

* * *

Veemon was disappointed to hear Chris brush his question aside. He already _knew_ why Chris hugged him, recalling last night's mental anguish with near-perfect recall. The only thing wrong with the whole picture was the fact he would seek emotional support only when he thought Veemon was asleep.

Why do that when the two of them were somewhat close already? And why did Christopher renew his secrecy? After that rambunctious warm-up a few minutes ago, one would think the dude was comfortable enough to disclose some of his grievances. (He _did _divulge basic info about Sally last night.)

The Chosen tried again. "But your hold was reeeeeeaaaaalllllyyyy tight."

Christopher sighed. Gioldenrod eyes brimming with melancholy ogled Veemon's crimson. _Open up, Chris_, pleaded the Chosen. _C'mon. I just want to help…_

"Look, buddy, I know what you're doing here." The sad gaze turned into a piercing glare. "But I don't like—I **hate**—talking about it. Don't ask me again."

This response confused Veemon. "But we're—

"I know!" bellowed Chris, intimidating the blue dragon. "I effing know that!" The blond exhaled slowly, calming himself down. "Vee, I-I'm, really… really glad you care, but, I don't think I deserve your concern."

Before the Chosen could retort Christopher rose from the bed, stretched his arms and back, and patted his face. "Wow, it's **so** slimy." He poked his own cheeks. "Very sticky." Sniffling, "And the smell's really, _really,_ strong." Chris shot an annoyed glance at Veemon. "And I have you to thank for this."

Going along with this ruse, "Honestly, I think you enjoyed it." Veemon did his best to give a fake smile. "You didn't flip out like I thought you would." He laughed. "Even saved me the trouble of pushing you into my trap when you went right into it!"

"Well I _did_ catch you off-guard."

"Still got out of it!" He stuck his tongue out. "Beh!"

"Lucky you," Chris reminded. "It won't work again, you know."

"We'll see next time."

"Right, next time," Chris chuckled. "Got to admit, you make a great sparring buddy." Before entering the bathroom, he looked back at the dragon and smiled. "You were right, by the way: I _did_ have fun."

Then he checked his face one more time. "Maaaaaaan," he mumbled. "You got me good. Real good."

The dragon snickered. "That's what you get for making me gag."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes, shutting the door. "Hope one bath's gonna be enough to get rid of everything."

Veemon was about to close his eyes and rest when Chris' head popped out. "By the way, Vee," he appended. "You're up next. Thanks to our wrestling, I realized you effing stink. Like old leather marinated in B.O."

Grabbing and throwing one of the pillows at him would've been a reaction typical for the rather childish digimon. This time, however, Veemon did not retort, not uttering a single word. Instead, he nonchalantly returned to his position on the bed, lying on his back ruminating.

Christopher Van Numen, as far as Veemon could gather, was emotionally weak, profoundly scarred by death and tragedy. Whatever joy Veemon educed from him with his silly antics tended to evaporate quickly, replaced with seriousness, self-depreciation, and even secrecy.

What he witnessed last night replayed in his mind. Judging how Chris released his accumulated anguish, he could decipher the reality that his entire family was dead. His preferred way of life, however mundane, had been expunged. His precious friends and comrades were all gone. _"Why is everyone disappearing?"_

He didn't know just how much he suffered, but Veemon remembered all too clearly the fervor he had placed in the one statement that stood out, even to this very second. _"All I wanted was to be normal!__"_ he said. _"TO BE EFFING NORMAL!"_

Christopher blamed himself for it all, calling himself a curse.

He had only seen this form of self-depreciation in the person now hailed as the Digimon Tactician. In some ways, Chris was similar to the Ken Ichijouji of the past, his heart clammed shut by guilt and grief. Daisuke Motomiya was the only one to reach out and save the former Kaiser from his own misery. _Daisuke,_ he prayed silently. _I don't know what to do. How would you cheer up somebody like Chris?_

* * *

After Hikari regained some semblance of composure, she wore the holster and stowed her handgun. Then, without muttering a word, she walked out of the door. Tailmon shadowed her, not only out of duty as her digimon partner, but also out of concern and love for her human half, her best friend, her sister.

Hikari choked every now and then, stifling the occasional sob escaping her throat. Tailmon followed her through the smoothened tunnel, knowing they were headed towards the the clinic. Blinded by grief the Child of Light no longer heard Tailmon or responded to her consolations. It worried Tailmon: just how dependent had she been on Taichi?

The younger Yagami parted the thick curtain to the clinic: a cavernous atrium littered with beds, each evenly spaced out. The medical equipment was located by the walls, set for easy access by the assigned nurses. Mantarou and the Inoues stood by Rika's and Renamon's bedsides, huddling around them.

Manta heard Hikari pull the curtain aside and saw the Chosen Child sauntering in. He blanched upon seeing the distraught look—the sad, apathetic gaze—on her face. "Hi, Hikari?" The Inoue family centered their attention on Hikari, who walked over to Rika's side.

Tailmon watched them make space for her. Trailing behind her partner, Tailmon ruminated over the cryptic report Renamon gave her before she, too, succumbed to unconsciousness.

Though Mantarou found Hikari unconscious and brought her to her room, Tailmon was rather determined to keep watch, monitoring the lodge and its immediate surroundings for any movement. After all, the secret entrance to the underground base was in the well behind the vacation structure. There was no way in hell Taichi, or anyone else, could sneak past her. Not when she was hidden in the tree in front of the lodge.

Minutes before dawn, Tailmon's ears—large for a cat's—twitched, registering soft footsteps approaching the lodge. The white cat's cerulean eyes popped open, turning immediately towards the mountain path coming from below.

Instead of Taichi, Renamon emerged. The yellow fox had plenty of wounds. Major wounds. The blood around them had dried. Whatever happened to her must've been terrible, Tailmon conjectured, looking at her weak, limping form. Rika was slumped on her shoulder, unconscious, breathing shallowly. She was just as hurt.

Both digimon and tamer were on the brink of death. Tailmon leapt from her perch, bounding towards the yellow fox. "Renamon! What happened to you?"

She could barely apprise her of the situation. "Operation: Pyramid, failed." Renamon was hyperventilating. She could barely speak. "Too many monsters." The fox settled her tamer down on the ground, collapsing on the ground. "Not digimon."

"Made of darkness," Renamon verbalized before falling unconscious herself. "Black, hollow eyes…"

The Digimon of Light cogitated on the yellow fox's last words. She turned towards Renamon, who now slept peacefully on the bed, wondering what she meant by monsters that weren't digimon.

"Mantarou," she accosted. "Is there anything on TV?"

"Nothing but confusion and rampant speculation." He shook his head. "Yamaki's holding a press conference later around 1 P.M." _And brag_, completed Tailmon.

Hikari Yagami suddenly spoke, eliciting everyone's attention. "I'm, I'm heading to the lodge."

As her partner departed, Tailmon began following Hikari, only for the 21-year-old woman to stop and stare at the white cat. "Don't follow me, Tailmon."

Tailmon couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her human half was pushing her eternal companion away? "H-hikari?"

"I, I just want to be alone for a while."

"But I'm your partner!" The Chosen reached for her partner's hand, a gesture swiftly rejected. "Hikari…"

"Please, Tailmon."

Without rebutting she let Hikari do what she wanted. Tailmon, nonetheless, did not let Hikari out of her sight. She stalked her silently, watching her from afar. Hikari never noticed, or at least, never reacted so long as the white cat did not bother her.

Hikari Yagami entered the lodge and locked the door behind her. Tailmon's sharp hearing picked up the screams coming from within. Her partner's sobbing and frustrated banging on the walls also affected the Chosen.

Tailmon was tempted to smash the door into pieces and hug the Child of Light, but she knew it was useless. Hikari needed to vent. It was a time when she wanted to be alone. Tailmon returned to her perch. She, too, wept, depressed over her inability to console her human half, over the tragedy that had fallen upon the Digidestined—no, the Twelve. _Why did it have to be this way? _

The images of Patamon and Veemon resurfaced in her mind, reviving the misery Tailmon repeatedly suppressed. She missed them both terribly, wishing to feel Patamon's warm, loving, encompassing hug, and laugh at Veemon's unorthodox ways of cheering others up.

_Why did you two have to die?_

* * *

It was time to check out.

Chris didn't want to go back to the clerk's desk. The capacity to pay wasn't the problem—Ken's wallet had so much money in it they could stay in this motel for days **and **afford decent food. Rather, it was that discriminating clerk.

Veemon propounded fleeing the motel, but Chris was so paranoid he thought it might rouse unwanted attention from the local authorities, something they didn't need given their next destination.

As they walked across the courtyard from Unit 23, Chris could see the clerk through the glass window, talking animatedly on a cell phone, his back turned to them. Glancing at Veemon, the blue dragon was not riding on his back, but, for once, walking right behind him, dogging his every step.

Gifted with numbers, Chris already figured the cost of the room, and considered dropping ten thousand yen on the desk. They would simply leave the small office before the bastard clerk would notice them and make fun of Chris. This harmless bullying didn't concern him at all; the blond was more worried about reacting so violently he'd kill the guy by accident.

Chris prayed the clerk wouldn't notice when he pushed the door open. _Please, please, please, please, please—_ting-a-ling!

A bell rang directly above him, securing the attention of the clerk, who had just finished his call. "Well if it isn't the furry."

He rolled his eyes. _Oh, God._

"So how was your '_sleep_', eh?" the man sniggered, amused by the connotation. "I'm surprised ya didn't use the fursuits I left out."

_Asshole_. "Will you just stop?" He was exasperated. "I'm only here to pay—

"Thirty minutes ago, the guests from Unit 24 checked out." The clerk leaned forward. "Ya know what they told me?"

Chris clenched the five ¥2000 bills. The temptation to kill the guy was getting stronger every second. He never noticed Veemon's scarlet eyes were also turning into slits from frustration.

"There was **a lot of noise** coming from Unit 23!" He jeered. "They even heard the bed rock. Violently."

The blond facepalmed; the clerk was really entertaining himself. Chris tendered the money and _insisted_ he keep the change.

The asshole didn't want to let his current source of amusement walk away so easily. Spying Veemon, "Oho! So the little critter's with the furry!" He walked out of the counter, sizing him up. Veemon was roughly eye to eye with Chris's and the clerk's waists. "God-**DAMN**, didn't know it was so short."

"It looks male!" Chris watched the clerk's lips curl into a snaggletoothed grin. His fists were trembling with rage. "Oooh lemme guess! Ya suck—"

To Chris's surprise, Veemon advanced and barked. "I'VE HAD IT!" Releasing his accrued ire, "I don't know how this garbage amuses you, but you _obviously_ don't care how much it pisses him—me—us off!"

"H-H-H-H-HOLY SHIT!" The clerk backpedaled, shrinking back fearfully as he realized the black triband on the dragon's humerus was disabled. "IT'S, IT'S A WILD ONE!"

Veemon ignored the comment and maintained his sharp glare. "Chris was right! You **are** an asshole!" At that word the Digimon of Miracles leaped and slammed his head into the clerk's belly, not only knocking all the wind out of him but also making him fly back to the counter. He stood by the fallen man and spat on him out of disdain, before rotating and plodding towards Chris, on whose back he climbed and latched onto. "Let's go," Veemon muttered, plopping his chin on the blond's shoulder while assuming the usual position.

Christopher sent a fleeting glance at the clerk one last time before vacating the office. The jerk peered into his goldenrod eyes, inching away further when he saw them narrow with contempt. _You're lucky __**I**__ wasn't the one who snapped_.

.

.

"Great work, Vee," praised Christopher as they walked out of the courtyard, heading for the major roads, where they would find a bus to take. "Clerk got to you, too, huh?"

"Mhmm," answered the blue dragon. "I don't know what all that's about, Chris, but the way he talked annoyed me."

"Do you remember what you asked me last night?"

"Huh?" Veemon gave him a blank stare.

"That little bit about us 'sleeping with each other'?"

It took a few seconds for him to recall. "Ohh yeeaah, I forgot about that. You're gonna tell me what it means, right?"

His next words were frank. Brutal. Candid. They left no room for misconstruals. "It means we had sex."

Veemon was speechless for ten seconds. Then his jaw dropped. "EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH? YOU'RE KIDDING!"

Chris was deadpan. Veemon started to think, and the blond watched his face slowly contort into a thoroughly insulted _and_ appalled expression the more he cogitated. "Eeeeeewww…"

"**Now** you understand why I was so riled last night."

"...He got what he deserved," the Chosen sneered. _He must be feeling veeerry happy about that headbutt_.

Chris simpered. "The feeling's mutual, buddy." He lifted his right hand, palm opened. "Gimme five."

His tail wagged slightly; Veemon snickered and slapped the tendered palm with his own.

.

.

As Chris entered a major thoroughfare, indicated by the wide road and the many vehicles traveling back and forth along it, both his and the dragon's stomachs growled. "Vee, you know any place we could eat around here?"

"Why're you asking me?"

"You used to live here, remember? We're still in Odaiba, you know…"

The blue dragon acknowledged that. "Hmm, if I remember right, there's a café around the next block. We all met there a couple of times." _All? Probably rambling about the old days again…_

Chris activated the R-Scanner just to check the local time in its HUD: October 16, 2013, 11.10 AM. "Hope brunch there's good."

Veemon grinned, looking at his friend. "It should be! I used to beg Daisuke to bring me there."

"I trust your sense of taste," muttered the blond.

* * *

A young girl, about ten years of age, wandered about the main street, alone. She ran a hand through her swarthy hair, up to shoulder in length, burgundy in color, and parting in the very middle, adjusting it. A small plant-like creature in the shape of a bud hovered by her shoulder. "Lala?" called her sweet voice. The Lalamon had a black triband secured around the yellow growth on the top of her pink head.

The girl's stomach growled. "Oh, this is the worst," she groaned, glancing at her own wallet. Little money. Her cellphone rang.

"ROW ROW, FIGHT DA POWAH!" intoning an MP3 clip of _Gurren Lagann'_s "Libera from Hell". Glancing at the caller ID, she responded the moment she read "姐姐."

Picking it up, "Yoshino?"

She recognized the voice. _Tina? _"Sis? Is, is that you?"

"Yep, it's me."

Relief filled her chest. "Sis, I'm so glad you called. I haven't heard from you in a week; I was starting to get worried, but the DSI never sent me any letters…"

"Was stuck in the Digital World for a week," her older sister tersely explained. "How're things at your end?"

"Ehrm," she retorted sheepishly. "The fridge just ran out of food."

"So you're outside looking for a place to eat?" guessed her older sister. "I can hear the traffic."

"Yeah," admitted Yoshi, chuckling nervously. "But, uhhh… turns out I don't have _that_ much money."

The voice on the other line laughed. "Tell you what, Yoshino. I've got a **lot** of news for you. How about I buy us some brunch, eh?"

"Sounds great," grinned Yoshi. "Where you taking us?"

"Well, where are you?"

"Wangan Road," responded Yoshino. "Right beside," her voice trailed. Her maroon eyes shifted left and right, seeking any visible landmarks. It's a shame she wasn't that great when it came to local geography. Feeling Lalamon loom over her shoulder and tug her arm, Yoshino followed her digimon's prodding and found a café nearby. She resumed, "Right beside Konata café."

"Heeeeyyy, Konata's famous for their brunch menu."

Yoshi's older sister kept talking, but she didn't really pay attention as she bumped into someone while staring at the café. "Oof!" The young girl fell on her butt. "Ya-ta-ta-tah," she moaned, rubbing the sore buttcheeks. Lalamon floated next to her, concern glazing its beady eyes. "This is the worst."

"Gotta watch where you're going, little girl," murmured the person she bumped into. Yoshino gazed up, finding a golden-haired man tendering his hand for her. A blue dragon used his shoulder as a roost for its big head, crimson eyes staring into her own.

"You okay?" inquired the digimon, as she took the blond's hand.

"Y-yeah," she uttered. "Thanks."

The blond went on his way. Yoshino and Lalamon watched the digimon riding on the man's back whip around, waving goodbye at them with a cute smile on its face. "Take care of yourself!" it called out, before facing his owner and gesturing the Konata café. "As I was saying, you **have** to try their crepes. It's to die for! Don't even get me started on Konata's chocolate cornets…"

"Yoshino, are you with some friends?" asked her sister. "I heard a couple voices. They, sounded familiar…"

"No, no. I bumped into someone and his SCAI, that's all. They've been nice enough to help me up."

"Oh, okay." The voice adopted a tone of concern. "Just remember what I always tell you, okay?"

"Come on, sis," complained Yoshino. "I got Lalamon with me!"

"That's why I'm worried, Yoshi," she reasoned. "If Lalamon gets caught—

"Trust me, I'm careful," Yoshi reassured. "I always am."

"If you say so," dismissed the voice. "Anyway, you probably didn't hear me when you fell, but go inside Konata and wait for me there. Get whatever you want."

"When will you arrive?"

"Hmm… I'm still at M&A, but I'll come directly from R&D. Give me about, thirty minutes."

Yoshino smiled, happy to know she will be seeing her older sister, Tina, very soon. "See you." The young girl hung up and pocketed the phone in her jeans. She adjusted her pink blouse before sauntering towards Konata Café.

"Hey, Lalamon," murmured Yoshino.

"La?"

"Do you think," she posed, "that SCAI we saw earlier"—the image stuck in her head was the cute dragon riding the blond's back. For some reason it seemed oddly familiar—"is liberated?"

The girl stared up at Lalamon, who was just almost as tall as she was, hovering right above her head. She saw her nod.

Yoshino Fujieda pushed the door open. "Sis won't mind if Lalamon and I make a couple of new friends," the girl pondered aloud. _I rarely get to see liberated SCAI's. I've never met one besides Lalamon._

Sweatdrops rolled down her head when her maroon eyes quickly found the blond and his dragon SCAI. Many of the other diners were watching them, even those who owned digimon. Yoshino was tempted to go over there and smack _both_ of them.

The blond was sitting in the middle of the restaurant, in a table for four. Beside him sat his digimon. She couldn't believe her eyes. The man's SCAI was sitting _beside him_, its tail sticking out of the chair it sat on. On top of that, both were being served full plates, each adorned with enough food to fill Yoshino's and Lalamon's stomachs for the next three days.

She watched the blue dragon act on his own, raising his hand to seize a waitress's attention. "Another glass of water, please!" it requested at a volume loud enough for everyone else to hear, smiling.

Yoshino overheard one of the customers waiting for a free table murmur to the manager, a short girl whose sky blue hair stood out from the crowd. "It could be a Wild One," spoke the concerned customer. A _Wild One_ was basically a SCAI whose triband was modified illegally, or never had one in the first place. "You never know when it'll attack and destroy the café."

"Maybe they're with those Digidestined terrorists," theorized the café's host. "We should call the DSI before it causes trouble."

A tuft of hair stiffened above her head. "Don't worry!" she reassured the worried customers. "They won't do anything dangerous!" She had every reason to keep the blond and his SCAI in her café: they were ordering a **lot** of food. Yoshino could almost see the manager's eyes gleaming with gold. "I even checked the triband. It's _Monster Makers_, so it's all coooool."

"I have a SCAI at home with the same brand," pointed out a middle-aged man, accosting the manager after finishing and paying for his meal. He glanced at the dragon. "M.M.'s programmed personalities are nothing like **that**," he said, referring to its bubbly personality and gluttony, as well as the way it was conversing animatedly with its owner. "_That_ is definitely too real."

Yoshino noticed all the other people within earshot were listening intently. Some of them became nervous.

The manager kicked him, stunning everyone else. "SO WHAT IF IT'S TOO REAL?" she blurted. Her voice was so loud both the blond and dragon sent her a weirded-out glance. "Look at them! They're **enjoying** the food here!" She was staring at the two with googly eyes. "I have never seen such happy customers!"

She fainted on the spot. The host stood at once and went to her side. "Konata!"

Carrying the short girl like a princess, the host brought Konata to her office for some rest. Yoshino snorted when she heard the restaurant manager murmur as the two passed her, "I'm getting so much money from this. Teehee…"

Looking around, Yoshino felt the tension relax. The worries were evaporating once they realized the two were only there to enjoy the meal (although a common denominator was discomfort still, considering SCAI's were never treated like people in modern society). She even heard someone ask about the food they were eating, wanting to try it too. Unknowingly those two were promoting the café.

Yoshino glanced at Lalamon, smiling. One day, the girl swore to herself, she'll pull off something like this with her digimon, disregarding the whispers of paranoia and discomfort.

So impressed was Yoshino at the way the status quo dominating modern society was subverted she didn't notice her feet brought her to the dragon and its owner until it was too late. "That brand really came in handy," she heard the blond speak.

"Yeah," agreed the blue SCAI, his white snout chomping down on some food. "We got the manager on our side, too." A waitress passed right in front of Yoshino, serving a large crepe to the blond. The dragon pouted. "No fair, Chris! Yours came first!"

Chris rolled his eyes. He cut a small piece, picked it up with a fork, and fed the SCAI directly before doing the same for himself. "Happy now, Vee?" He sighed. "You should've ordered this first, since you're the one who kept bugging me to get this"—he jolted—"whoa that is aaweesome…"

The dragon chuckled. "Told you they're to die for."

"No kidding. Remind me to get another one." It laughed harder.

Thinking of the way the SCAI acted made Yoshino ruminate. _That triband's off, isn't it?_ Instead of remaining in her head, the very thought came out of her lips. She clasped her mouth as soon as she said it. _Oh, this is the worst!_

"Yep," admitted the blue dragon. "It's off! But that doesn't matter so long it keeps people off our backs." It stopped eating and gazed at its owner. "Right, Chris?"

He ogled the SCAI for a second before returning to his meal. "I wasn't talking to you."

Chris's companion was perplexed, and started looking around. "Then who was I talking to"—the digimon's ears drooped when it realized he just blabbed their biggest secret to a third party. "Uh oh. Uhm, uhhhh, I think we got a liiiitttlle problem."

The blond stopped eating, detecting the anxiety. "What's the matt—oh no. Veemon, you **didn't**." His goldenrod eyes gazed directly at Yoshino. She blinked. _Veemon? That name sounds familiar. _Lalamon floated between her and the blond, sensing a faint hostility.

Veemon scratched the back of his head, giggling sheepishly. He was blushing from the stupidity of his mistake. "Sorry…"

_Can't let this turn ugly_, she swore to herself. Yoshino took the initiative to sit down with the two. "Take it easy," she consoled them, lowering her voice. "I won't tell the world your triband's fake." Hearing the last two words made Veemon blanch. She made an X sign on her chest. "Cross my heart."

"Besides," the young girl snatched Lalamon from the air and plopped her down on the chair next to her and Veemon. "Lalamon's also a liberated SCAI." She turned towards her digimon. "Aren't you, Lalamon?"

Yoshino watched her friend become stiff with tension. It took a minute before the bud-like monster articulated. "Y-yes," she stuttered at last. "Nice, to, meet you," Lalamon murmured.

The girl facepalmed. "Sorry. Lalamon's not used to talking in public." Yoshino glanced at the two and noticed the skeptical stares boring drilling into her. "If you still don't believe me," she defended, reaching for the box-like digivice in her pocket. "I can show you my digi—

"NOW I REMEMBER!" exclaimed Veemon, to her incredulity. _They've been trying to remember me?_ "You're that little girl Chris bumped into outside."

"Hmph. You're partially responsible." Chris was quick to defend himself. "**Y****ou** were too busy seducing me with the food here after I saw that sizzling pepper steak place on the next block."

Veemon smirked, watching Chris finish the crepe. "Regretting you listened to me?"

"Actually, no," the dragon's smile grew wider. Chris accosted Yoshino. "Oh yeah, we didn't get your name."

"Just call me Yoshino."

"Nice to meet you, Yoshi!" The blue dragon tendered his hand. "I'm Veemon," he said cheerfully as she grabbed and shook it. "That's Christopher," he introduced. "So what brings you here?"

"Well, I'm having brunch w—

Christopher interrupted here, "You can order something if you want. I don't mind paying for it."

Yoshino trembled from embarrassment. "No need, no need." She held her hands out and shook them, politely gesturing her refusal. "I'm waiting for my older sister, y'see."

Veemon inserted himself between Lalamon and Yoshino. "That doesn't matter!" He said with a smile, patting their backs. "We'll treat her, too." Chris sent him an angry glare, which the blue dragon did not find daunting at the least. "Won't we, Chris?"

The man groaned. "You can't just decide things on your own, Vee…"

Yoshino couldn't resist giggling when Christopher acquiesced regardless.

* * *

Tina Fujieda, former Modifier and DSI veteran, emerged from the entrance of Sunrise, a medium-sized, three-storey office complex. It was the clandestine front of the Research & Development Wing, connected to the more secure areas underneath through an elevator hub directly below the underground parking lot.

"Hello!" greeted an office worker, opening the glass doors for the former Modifier. Tina's purple eyes glossed over him. _Makes me wonder how many people in this office know about the secret_. While M&A was a landmark in itself, DSI employees and soldiers were both bound by contract to keep their mouths shut on the location of R&D. The secrecy was, as both Yamaki and Dr. Kurata once explained (at different times), a security precaution.

Tina felt the warm, morning breeze caress her face. It felt so good to be back in the Real World! There was also a better reason for her glee: as of today, October the 16th, year 2013, Tina Fujieda was no longer part of the DSI's military forces. Granted, the peacekeeper position she was applying for was still under DSI leadership, butit was safer and definitely more flexible.

The former Modifier decided to walk to Konata café. Wangan Road was almost a kilometer north of the Sunrise building, Konata would be another seven-minute walk from the intersection she would arrive at. _A little walking can't hurt anyone_. Tina glanced at the afternoon sun. Though shining, the autumn weather compensated for it and cooled the weather, which made the walking environment very comfortable.

It also made the landscape of the Tokyo Metropolis a very beautiful sight to see. With the perdurable Mt. Fuji as its backdrop, Tina marveled at how picturesque her own home was. Tina perceived Odaiba's Rainbow Bridge heading towards the heart of Tokyo, where the skyscrapers of the Financial and Business sections were located. The twin towers of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government stood among them, visible in the horizon.

Towering behind them was the skyscraper of the DSI's M&A Wing. The tram running to R&D and back was surprisingly fast. _I was just there twenty minutes ago._

It didn't take long for Tina to reach Konata Café. It didn't _feel_ that long either; she had been enjoying the trip thoroughly. The former Modifier, as she approached the venue, pondered on what she wanted for brunch. One of their famous crepes? Or maybe an omelette prepared with Japanese methods? Miso Ramen was also an excellent choice. Anyone who has ever gone into Konata's should have the right mind to order it before experimenting with the other items on the menu.

She licked her lips. _Miso Ramen it is then_, Tina decided, opening the door.

"Welcome to Konata café!" proclaimed the host, seeing her come in. "A table for—

Tina cut her off, "I'm meeting someone." She smiled. The host nodded, letting her walk into the dining area and wander around, eyes scanning every person in the establishment, seeking Yoshino. Like any other day, the place was jam-packed with people. For some reason, today there were a lot more people than usual. _I wonder why…_

"Sis!"

It was Yoshino's voice.

"Sis, over here!"

It was close. Probably a couple of tables to her left.

Tina Fujieda automatically veered leftward, walking straight into an awkward situation. Her purple eyes dilated when she recognized Yoshino's companions. Tina peered into the piercing goldenrod eyes, recognizing the man's yellow hair, styled like a Spanish mullet, the indestructible gauntlet on his left arm, and even the white staff lying so innocently by his chair.

Beside him was a blue dragon, its conical ears perking when its crimson irises viewed her. Tina could discern the chewed food in its gaping mouth, as the dragon stopped eating and gaped when it saw her. The black triband on its humerus would've fooled her if it wasn't for the SCAI's slash wound on its belly, which corroborated its identity.

Now eating an omelet and a crepe respectively (with a small stack of finished plates between them), Yoshino's company was none other than last week's opponents: Christopher and Veemon.

.

.

.

_Former enemies meet in the Real World, creating an awkward situation! How will Tina Fujieda defuse this? What will Christopher and Veemon get from this chance encounter with the ex-Modifier? _

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[4] The wrestling between Christopher and Veemon at the motel room **actually** happened to me in real life. It's a funny story I don't mind sharing with you all. Now, there were _three_ guys involved, two related to each other through a common cousin, i.e. yours truly. This took place about one year ago, when I was still around 6th or 7th grade. (I think 7th.)

One night, my cousin "J" licked my cousin "D" in the face, just to annoy him. D got pissed and started grappling with J. "R" (me), being the middleman and the youngest of the trio, tried to stop them, pulling on either J or D, or joining in the wrestling as well. This all occurred on one king-sized bed, comparable to the ones you see in motels. D was so pissed at J he started BODY SLAMMING the bed, abusing his corpulent build. J was thinner and faster, and always snaked out of harm's way, never forgetting to put R in D's line of fire. J also annoyed both R & D by spreading his arms and legs in a "starfish" position on the bed, pushing _both of them_ out. The night quieted down as J left the room... only for J to return with R's sister's Ferby Doll.

More wrestling ensued. R was trying to choke J but J caught R in an armbar. D assisted R and tried to double-team J. J still proved too slippery to catch and pinned down R on the bed. However, he was too distracted with R to see D body-slam the bed. The bed broke.

D blamed it all on J. R blamed it all on both. J kept laughing as if this was nothing to him. More wrestling, again, ensued. J kept on laughing, obviously having fun. J licked R's face this time as he grappled with D. After a lot of chaos that I probably don't remember now, D did another body slam that broke the bed for the **second time** just as the sun was coming up. J chortled, saying they should go to sleep now that the sun was up. D was pissed, opening the blinds and growling, "If you won't let me sleep, **NO ONE WILL!**" R... gave up on those two, washed his face, and slept on the floor... wondering what to tell his dad.

The bed was fixed two weeks later.

[5] After the wrestling scene, Veemon recounted some of Daisuke's crazy reactions after he (as Chibimon) licked his face out of mischief and playfulness. Daisuke's first reaction was documented in my first one-shot, _Rude Awakening_, which had an open ending where Chibimon wondered how he'd react if he did it to him in front of Hikari-which he mentioned in the conversation. Digimon have good recall, don't they? XD

[6] Did you guys spot my references? I threw in _Gurren Lagann_ and _Lucky Star_ in there. :P

[7] 2/6/2011 EDIT: fixed some segments with Hikari & Tailmon in preparation of increased detail on the Digidestined's base, which will be covered in detail on chapter 16

[8] This spot reserved for truncated responses to reviews, if any.

**Coop97**: This is for your review of the third chapter. All I can say is "thanks". Glad you're loving the fic; it's people like you that drive me to keep on writing! ^^ BTW, thanks for the tip about the anon reviewers; I never noticed that function before, actually. Anyway, I enabled it. (I only hope the quality of reviews won't diminish...)

**Chocolate Lightning**: The next few chapters will be saturated with emotions. Try not to speed through them or you'll miss out, since I intend on making the most of all the tension I've been building up. As for the brunch, it'll actually be a very informative one. Well, that's what you get when former enemies meet. XD But thanks to your expectations I'm gonna have to review the damn scene now OTL


	15. Defusal

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] 13,950 words for MS Word.

[2] Sorry for the delay, but I had to be really careful with the dialogue in this chapter. We're entering the meat of the _Priorities_ story arc, and so the next few chapters will be emotionally charged. The thing is, a tremendous portion of _Priorities_ will be used as reference material in the future story arcs, as well as the sequel of _The Interloper _itself (if I ever get there that is). I wasn't kidding when I said everything will go to hell from chapter 10 onward. Butterfly Effect for the win!

I've also been doing a lot of planning for this story arc, since most of the action is going to start immediately after the next chapter or two, and I had to make sure everything was logically sound, in-character, and, well, unpredictable to the best of my ability. Some of the more astute of my readers will realize what I'm talking about when I get to that point in the story.

[3] As usual, reviews and criticisms are very welcome! If you have any tips, problems, or comments with the way I portray the canon, don't hesitate to relay it to me! I am always concerned with the quality of my work, you know.

[4] Anyway, here's the 15th chapter, _Defusal_! Hope you enjoy it! :D

* * *

Christopher and Veemon were the last two Tina expected to see in the Real World, let alone personally meet! Her memories of them were memories replete with near-death situations, violent fighting, and **plenty **of swearing.

Veemon swallowed his food, leaned towards Chris, and murmured to him, his voice inaudible. Chris glowered, his goldenrod eyes never leaving her. She _wasn't_ the only one who recalled their most recent encounter. Ostensibly. The intangible tension increased, albeit Yoshino was too dense to notice.

"Chris, Veemon," Yoshino was saying, "This is Tina, my older sister."

"Hi," they chorused. Their tones were flat. Monotonic. Unwelcoming.

Yoshino beckoned like she didn't even feel it. "Take a seat, sis." Her relaxed voice contrasted the unease exuding between the former enemies.

Tina knew she wasn't just unarmed. Also outclassed. Veemon was an unrivaled Child level in hand-to-hand, even among the Twelve. Christopher was comparable to an Adult in strength, speed, and dexterity. Even so, Lucille Diaz rerated him as Perfect, convinced of the threat he posed and determined to exact retribution the next time they battle.

Any scuffle in Konata's café would be steeped in scarlet; roughly fifty people were enjoying brunch. She had to tread carefully; Tina pondered on her words as she took an empty chair from a nearby table, setting herself down between…

It was a square table. Going clockwise, the order was Christopher, Veemon, Yoshino, and Lalamon. Lalamon was exceptionally close to Yoshino, and she would definitely protest the notion of anyone sitting between her and her owner—or tamer, rather; Yoshino still had her digivice.—even if it was Yoshino's own sister. The thought of sitting next to the beast named Christopher made Tina blanch.

She chose to sit between Veemon and Yoshino, taking the corner they occupied. The Digimon of Miracles was just as hostile, but compared to the blond, he was the lesser evil.

Veemon hissed when her butt touched down on the chair. "What are **you** doing here?" He hasn't forgotten, and definitely wouldn't forgive, the massacre Tina contributed to at the Great Forest. One glance at his eyes and she knew he held a rabid fury against her, fighting against the urge to kill her on the spot. Christopher? He appeared apathetic towards Veemon's disposition; he regarded Tina with only intent suspicion.

Yoshino brooked, finally detecting the gaucherie. "Erhm, you two friends with my sis?"

"Friends?" Veemon reiterated, scoffing. He was incensed. "There's no way I'm **EVER** gonna be friends with someone who massacred my—PPPPPPHHHH!"

Christopher's goldenrod eyes dilated the moment Veemon began venting. His hand shot out when the Chosen was about to say Tina massacred all his friends, something that would horrify Yoshino, as she thought the digimon the DSI fought were hellbent on razing humanity. Though Chris intended on merely clamping the dragon's snout shut, Chris—out of wariness, Tina guessed—was so quick and reactive his hand went inside Veemon's mouth instead.

Not exactly the plan, but it had the desired effect of silencing Veemon.

Annoyed, the dragon _bit_ Christopher. The blond winced, yet refused to release his hand. Veemon's fluttering eyes and feral growls meant Chris took hold of something. "My chance to stand out!" Christopher completed, gritting his own teeth, struggling to maintain a straight face.

"I, I, bumped into," Tina noticed the Chosen not only strengthened his bite; he began **masticating**. _Ouch. _"THE F—!" he ejaculated, hesitating to curse. "Tina here." He blinked hard. "D-d-during a DSI o-op, operation."

The former Modifier was **grateful** for Yoshino's density. Her eyes were actually sparkling with amazement. "Wooooow, the way you act, I never believed you'd be with the DSI!"

Chris's eyes held only confusion. "Huh?"

"Veemon's triband is fake," mumbled Yoshino. "Sooooo, shouldn't you be worried about _other_ DSI people seeing him like that?"

The blond jolted, realizing the stupidity of his answer. "Uuuuhhhhhh," he tried to conjure an excuse. "Uhm, uh, the thing i—URG!" Chris glared at Veemon (they haven't let go yet). "Vee, you're not helping!"

"LT GF MM TNG!"

Yoshino giggled. "Let him talk, Chris. I don't think he's got anything bad to say." Tina resisted the urge to facepalm. _Seriously, Yoshino!_

Chris sent a stern glare at Veemon before releasing his tight grip on whatever he held. Tina wasn't surprised to see the hand still attached to his body; had it been a normal person's, it would've been either amputated or mangled. She noticed the multiple bite-marks on its wrinkly form, all bleeding. Chris was quick to stow it, wrapping a cloth napkin around it while mouthing some expletives Yoshino hopefully didn't hear.

"BLEH! That was terrible!" spat Veemon, chugging his drink to remove the brackish taste of human blood on his tongue. His sullen, crimson eyes veered at Chris. "You do **NOT**—

Tina coughed loudly, interrupting them. She didn't want a fight breaking out, even if it _were_ between them. She also had to ensure the Chosen wouldn't blurt anything that could damage Yoshino's pristine image of her. "Just so you guys know, I left the DSI."

_That_ left them dumbstruck. "Y-you did?" Yoshino spoke, also as shocked. She knew exactly where the concern was coming from.

_Cat's out of the bag now_, thought Tina, who originally wanted to break it to Yoshino in a less abrupt way. She nodded. "I handed in my resignation papers early this morning."

Yoshino opened her mouth to rebut, but couldn't find the words to express herself. The table remained silent for a minute, before someone stepped up. Strangely enough, it was Veemon. His query even reflected the concern permeating Yoshino's head. "Why," he slowly enunciated, "did you quit?"

Tina detected genuine curiosity right there. She also felt some pride was mixed in, too. Veemon probably thought he and Chris were ultimately responsible for that decision, and must've felt proud for it.

That assumption **was** true, but only to an extent. The Midnight Assault was Tina's first assignment under Yamaki's _Modification Project_, but it was only one out of many DSI operations she participated in. Tina had been with the DSI for almost two years, her cumulative experience mostly concentrated in the Middle East, her opponents both humans and SCAI's.

She chose to burst Veemon's bubble. Coddling his pride was unnecessary, "It's too dangerous to be a soldier." Tina was sincere. "The pay and benefits are great, but," her eyes darted to Yoshino, whose attention was secured. "Yoshino's depending on me for support. Emotionally. Morally. **Maternally**." She paused, waiting for a gesture from the young girl. Yoshino nodded after five seconds, silently disclosing a semblance of trust in these two. _Mental note: ask Yoshino later how she ended up with them._ "Our parents are gone," Tina apprised. "I'm the only one she's got.

"The compensation's not worth it." Her words were now directed to Yoshino. "Everyday I'm risking my life. I'm not worried about your financial needs. DSI's benefits keep them covered. I'm just worried you'll miss out a lot on life if I died."

Tina gazed at Veemon, who was silent during the whole thing, unable to find the proper reaction. She leaned closer to him, slouching so she could look straight in his crimson eyes. Tina wanted this promulgated on an equal level, not wanting to emit condescension. "Veemon, personally I am **really sorry** for last week. I just did my job. Put my best in it."

Her voice softened, becoming a whisper. "I got nothing against you or your friends. The salary's five times minimum wage and comes with tax credits, tuition grants, and more benefits"—Veemon's face crumpled in blankness. He didn't understand _that_. He was still a child deep down.—"Point is, being a DSI soldier _was_ the only way I could support my sisters and live comfortably."

The former soldier lifted her hand. Exercising extreme caution (she did **not** want her hand chewed on. Hell no!), she placed it on Veemon's shoulder. The dragon didn't react. "The DSI's dogma states SCAI's—digimon—are just things to control. To regulate. To commercialize. For them, humanity is and will forever be greater." Tina requested, forcing a weak smile. "Whenever you fight the DSI, please remember: **not all DSI personnel commit to this**. Some of us have families to take care of."

Awkward silence hovered for the next few minutes. Tina used this opportunity to order Miso Ramen for brunch. Yoshino thought it a good time to order dessert. Veemon refused to settle on anything **but** the chocolate cornets. The ten-year-old agreed with him. Christopher, not knowing which to get, decided on whatever Veemon was having. "It better be good."

"Trust me, you'll love the cornets!" Veemon elbowed the blond's side. Hard. He was still a bit irate from the way Chris silenced him earlier.

He flinched from the strike. "You said that about the crepes before we came here!"

Tina laughed. "**Everything** on the menu's superb. That's why Konata's one of the most successful cafés in Odaiba."

Veemon concurred. Tina couldn't help but smile. The digimon warmed up after her explanation, becoming less hostile and more amiable as the minutes passed: a transition from opposition to friendship. Christopher eventually let up on the death glares, thanks to his prodding. As Tina observed them, she noticed Veemon had a subtle influence over Chris, as if he was indulging him.

Tina remembered Aldo mentioning a budding friendship between them. Having fought both of them firsthand, it was very apparent in the way the blond protected and worked with Veemon, as he could've simply used and discarded him like a tool, which he did to every other digimon during the Midnight Assault.

However, relationships were all about a continuous, reciprocal "give and take". It didn't matter whether this relationship was romantic—Tina thought of Aldo and immediately felt sorry for him; he fancied Lucy but from her perspective it was unrequited—or platonic. Observing the two friends beside her, it seemed Chris was giving more than receiving. This was a warning sign in _any_ relationship, presaging a white elephant that had to be addressed later. Like a calm before the storm.

"Hey sis." Yoshino broke her concentration. Tina turned and saw the cogitative expression on her face. "Since you, um, quit the DSI, what, w-what will you do now? Isn't it hard to find a job nowadays?"

"The economy **is** screwed up at the moment," Tina acknowledged. "But," she consoled, "don't you worry, I've got our expenses covered. I'm applying for the peacekeeping force first thing tomorrow morning."

"Will it be enough?"

Tina nodded. "Based on my budgeting, yes." She scratched her head. "Though we'll have to tighten our belts a little bit; nothing still beats a DSI soldier in terms of compensation, you know." She then added, "But at least I'll get to stay with you almost 24/7."

"Awww, sis!" Yoshino hugged her. "I love you."

Tina reciprocated. "Same here."

After a minute, Veemon asked her what the peacekeeping force was all about. "We've got the same responsibilities as regular policemen," Tina answered. "But we're also the only ones properly trained for problems involving SCAI's. Problems that obviously don't warrant attention from DSI military." She did her best to keep out of Veemon's eye contact. "We're," she hesitated, "also in charge of transporting newborn digimon to DSI-accredited facilities for domestication." Tina gestured the black triband suppressors on Lalamon's and Veemon's bodies.

* * *

Hearing Tina Fujieda mention that bit about newborn digimon being domesticated, coupled with her pointing out the triband on his humerus, reminded Veemon of what he saw at Mons' Mart yesterday: baby digimon pinioned in cages stacked upon each other, ready for bulk transport. Every single one whined and cried, capable of legible speech like any normal digimon. Each seized from their tamers, their partners, destined to be the animalistic creatures sold as pets or mere figureheads of authority bestowed with limited knowledge and zero autonomy.

"Why do humans treat digimon like that?" Veemon questioned, challenging the null hypothesis defining contemporary human society. "Why do you all put yourselves first?"

.

.

_Chibimon was wary for anything out of the ordinary as he plodded to the locked door in the middle of the night. A tiny version of Veemon, with a round head and stubs for hands and legs, he leaned on the door to listen in on the conversation happening within. Daisuke's agitated voice debated alone against the fear-infused words of his parents._

"_You're telling me to get rid of Chibimon?" cried the teenager, defiant against the wishes of his family. "Mom, Dad! He's been with me through thick and thin. He helped save the world! TWO WORLDS!"_

"_Daisuke!" scolded his father. "Weren't you listening? Ever since your friend Miyako got shot in the head, we've been receiving death threats! Some digimon-hating vandals broke into our apartment a few days ago and— _

"_Like I told you already, dad," intercepted the Child of Miracles, only to be ignored by his father. "Chibimon will—_

"_Just make some new friends at school, Daisuke," suggested his father. "Stop involving yourself in this 'Chosen Children' business and ditch your pet before someone in our family die—_

"_CHIBIMON ISN'T A PET!" thundered Daisuke, livid. "HE'S MY PARTNER! MY __**BROTHER**__!" _

.

.

The painful, three-year old memory surfaced. Even after defending Chibimon—Veemon's Baby form—with such passion, days later Daisuke left him in the Digital World, promising to contact him again in a few months' time. A promise he never kept. Veemon's friends among the Digital Monsters always concluded Daisuke abandoned him, the ties he had with his surrogate brother weighing less, far less, than the lives of his own family, as if the digimon wasn't a part of it in the first place.

Veemon's voice shook while confronting Tina Fujieda, staring up at her with watery eyes. "We can think for ourselves like you," he reasoned. "We feel emotions as much as you do. We can be your friends. We don't, we don't have to be exploited like objects!" The dragon's eyes averted to the fake triband suppressor on his arm.

"Why?" The Chosen choked from the emotions he didn't want to unleash in public. "W-why, are you humans **so selfish**?"

* * *

Christopher was downcast when he heard Veemon's query. The blond felt the emotions in his voice. The pain of guilt settled on his chest. Although he considered Veemon a close friend, in the end he was still going to desert him for his own agenda. Chris was, as he said, being selfish, putting his own needs above others', above the Chosen's.

"W-why, are you humans so selfish?" concluded Veemon, his last words striking Christopher's own conscience. The blond eyed him compunctiously, feeling shame for the act he had yet to do, for the act he **had** to do. Chris consoled himself, reiterating in his mind again and again, the necessity of the imminent severance.

.

"_You bring tragedy wherever you go."_

_Ivan's head being disintegrated so callously. Sally disappearing in a flash of red and lime. Christopher Van Numen himself, standing amid the mass destruction and death he brought upon the city of 30 million._

.

The memories steeled Christopher's nerves. He had to spare Veemon, his friends, and this universe from the curse that was his very existence. _I _**will**_ push through with it_. Despite this staunch determination Chris could not bring himself to look at Veemon while he gazed at Tina, seeking answers. Unable to show emotional support, not even a pat on Veemon's back, Christopher felt like a hypocrite. He was deeply ashamed for it; he hated himself for it.

* * *

Yoshino understood where Veemon was coming from. She, too, had to deal with these questions from Lalamon. A ten-year-old barely comprehended the feelings of alienation, curiosity, and grief the blue dragon was currently experiencing. From her point of view, Chris, as Veemon's friend, should show him an unwavering loyalty to never leave, to put their friendship above all. Yoshino expected Chris to do just that, through an act of emotional support.

But Chris did nothing. It baffled her to watch him look away, his visage emblazoned with sadness and shame. With guilt. Yoshino chose to overlook this; the relationship between Christopher and Veemon was none of her business. Instead Yoshino Fujieda elected to pray for the blue dragon later that night…

* * *

Tina sighed. Rejoining, "I can't give you the perfect answer. But I think it's just," she conceded, "human nature." She gazed at the blue dragon. "We are selfish because we live to further our own interests." Tina gave him a simpler answer. "Because we want to be happy."

What made people happy were things that were good, but these 'goods' could only be dichotomized into either instrumental—a good used as means to another good—or intrinsic—a good sought after for itself. Happiness, the ultimate, intrinsic good, was indefinable, its very nature debated between and among people.

"A Greek philosopher once said happiness," Tina recalled, "is simply living well, and faring well. To have the things you want, to do the things that make you feel good inside.

"Veemon," she asked, "what is the one thing that will make you most happy?"

"Easy," the blue dragon answered. "To be with Daisuke again." Tina did not notice Yoshino's eyes widen, finally realizing who he was.

"Whoa, you're one of the Twe"—Lalamon hushed her immediately, knowing the outburst was inappropriate.

"Even if the world continued to exploit your kind?"

Veemon turned solemn. "**He** wouldn't be happy."

"What if he had to die to change the world?"

The Digimon of Miracles was silent. "I, I, I-I… don't know." He chuckled nervously. "Besides, isn't it kinda stupid to ask me that? If Daisuke died, I'd die, too."

Christopher invited himself into the conversation, goldenrod eyes dilating from surprise. "Why? Aren't you two separate beings?"

"Chris," Veemon illumined. "The bond between me and Daisuke—and anyone else with partners—makes me stronger than any digimon **without** a partner. But it also makes me weaker."

"How?"

"My bond with Daisuke links my life to his."

He couldn't speak. Not for a second or two. "So, so if Daisuke died…"

Tina explicated. "Either one of two scenarios will happen: Veemon will vanish instantly as particles of data, _or_ he will struggle to retain the will to live for about a minute before succumbing to permanent catatonia." She added, "The second happens more often with SCAIs exceptionally close to their dead partners."

Christopher surveyed the dining area. Some of the customers had suppressed SCAIs with them. "So if the people with those digimon die, they—

"You got it wrong," Tina interrupted. "Those people are just **owners**. By law, SCAIs are deposited in authorized depositories—Mons' Mart stores, for example—for delivery to accredited facilities owned by companies like _Monster Makers_. After domestication, the SCAIs are commercially distributed."

Hearing this angered Veemon. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn't just use Tina as the scapegoat. His enemy was the system. The entire world. Human nature itself!

"If the partners to those SCAIs die for any reason," Tina went on, "the related SCAI dies too, wherever it was, wherever its partner was."

Chris seemed to comprehend, grasping how deep were the bonds running between the two partners. "What happens to people if _their_ digimon died then?"

"Intense pain," retorted the former soldier. "Instant paralysis. Mental breakdown also, sometimes. I've killed tamers before and I can tell you the aftereffects last long."

"But they survive?"

"Yes."

"Sounds unfair."

"That's the way the system works," Tina shrugged. "Always was, always will."

"By the way, Tina, I'm curious," inquired Christopher, steering the conversation. "How **do** you use Digital Modification?"

"Why do you ask?" scoffed the former Modifier. "You're strong enough as it is. I should know." She and Chris let out an awkward laugh.

"Only by your standards I am," Chris depreciated himself. "I, need to know. It might be useful."

_It's not like I'll be involved again with you anytime soon. _"Keeping things simple, digital modification is done by projection, stabilized through conviction."

He scratched his chin and sauntered to Tina. "Expound on that."

"I'll start with the basics then. You ever heard of Digital Fields?"

"No."

"Digital particles?"

He glanced at Veemon for a moment. "Yes."

Tina sighed. _This will take a while._

* * *

While Christopher and Tina discussed Digital Modification, Veemon sat alone, dazed. Reality was hitting him hard. His opponent was not humanity, but the system of exploitation and commercialization, a system driven by the prime directive called selfishness. Veemon's thoughts asserted he was the same, striving for his own happiness like a human being.

But if every person—and every digimon—strived for happiness, at some point the multitude of individuals will make contact with one another. Rational beings like humans and digimon both evaded the 'bad' out of instinct. Trampling on the dreams and feelings of other rational beings evoked the 'bad' in one way or another, whether it surfaced internally—as in the case of contrition—or externally—as in the case of vengeance, libel, or even karma.

_If that's the case_, Veemon cogitated, there had to be a point where the rational beings can compromise with each other under a set of laws, written and unwritten. He was certain of it! The questions echoing in his head were: **what** will be the compromise between humans and digimon? And **when **will the two races seek this? As far as the majority was concerned, the former treated the latter as tools and hazards; the latter deeming the former oppressive and unworthy of their loyalty.

The Chosen imagined the future he and the Twelve conceived when the _Digimon Adventure_ animé was created several years ago. It was a future where both digimon and humans coexisted with one another as friends, allies, and loyal comrades. The Twelve struggled to realize this future by 2027, but failed to even make significant milestones due to the dark side of humanity. _Is that impossible then?_

Yoshino plopped down on Chris's seat. "Some regular people **do** see SCAIs as friends," She comforted. "Look at me and Lalamon." She stroked her digimon with her free hand. "I know some friends who don't like the 'system' too." A warm smile. "We even searched online for stuff to show SCAIs, I mean digimon, are people, too."

"Really?"

"Yes!" Yoshino's maroon eyes darted up in thought. "There's this guy named Touma. He found a science paper by some biology person. Professor Oak, I think. I don't really remember."

"What's it about?"

"All about digimon," Yoshino answered. "Touma thinks there's something we can use there to show how it's better for us to have liberated digimon."

Veemon smiled, knowing there were also people who disagreed with the status quo. "Seems like a nice guy."

"Not just nice," the young girl rebutted. "Also **really smart**. He flew to Sweden four months ago to study science there. And he's **only six**!" She appeared jealous.

"WOW." The Chosen was amazed, not detecting her envy. Seriously. "Sweden, huh? I've never been there…"

"At least you've been to New York!" pouted Yoshino, envious.

"How'd you—"

She winked. "Let's just say I finally recognize you, Digimon of Miracles."

"You watched _Digimon Adventure_?"

"**And**_ Zero Two,_" proclaimed Yoshino. "I'm a huge fan."

A bead of sweat trickled down his head. "…never saw it in you."

Yoshino chuckled. "Lee's gonna be soooooo jealous of me when I tell him about this."

Veemon gave her a look of confusion. "Eh?"

Addressing his consternation, "There's this kid in my class, Lee. He's not just a fan; he's obsessed with you.

"He's even making fanfiction!" Yoshino narrated, slandering this kid. "Lee's even into this romance stuff."

Vee was taken aback. "Romance?"

"Thinks you should be dating Tailmon, not Patamon. Last time I spoke with Lee he was telling me how he dissed this _Lord Pata_ fellow on—

"Wait-wait-wait," Vee halted her. "What's this you're talking about romance?"

"You and Patamon like Tailmon, right? The animé series hinted on a love rivalry between—HEY!"

Yoshino fumed. Veemon was giggling in amusement. "That sickening, mushy stuff **NEVER** interested me!"

The girl was dumbfounded. "B-b-but, in episode 22, you—

"_That_ was Daisuke's idea!" Amused, he was slapping his knee, doubling up in hilarity. "He couldn't accept me **supporting** Patamon!"

Yoshino gaped.

Veemon snickered. "I wonder how this Lee would react if he knew **I** was the matchmaker behind those two!" The blue dragon stuck his chest out, proud. "I'm the one who gave that hamster a kick of confidence!" He winked. "Know what I mean?"

A chuckle slipped out Yoshino's mouth. "He'll be shattered."

"Jealous, too!" Lalamon cried.

She nodded. "I _know_." Before returning to her seat, Yoshino embraced him. "I'm glad you feel better now."

"Thanks," Veemon reciprocated. Yes, he shouldn't be depressed over this. The 'happy future' may be an ideal. It may be something completely impossible to acquire, but Veemon shouldn't despair over the insurmountable obstacle called human nature. Magnanimity and charity were also among the virtues held aloft by modern society; people would certainly and happily live them out.

Coexistence. Mutual joy. The win-win situation he and his friends fought—and continued to fight—for were virtues that could very well define the happiness as Tina had earlier delineated: living well and faring well. Veemon's intuition averred the possibility of a compromise between the two sentient races, despite possessing the paradoxical circle comprised of proclivity to the 'good' and concupiscence.

Gladdened by this Aristotelian philosophy, Veemon felt despair leave him. How many of the digimon here in Konata café were liberated like Lalamon? How many of the people here disobeyed the DSI's regulations despite non-participation in direct combat?

He noticed something weird. _Now that I think about it_, Veemon pondered over Tina's case. If she worked for the DSI until recently, then how did she keep Lalamon **and** modify her triband suppressor without the DSI knowing?

Veemon interrupted Christopher and Tina's conversation to pose this concern. Meanwhile, Yoshino took out a touch-screen cellphone, an iPhone, to watch live television.

* * *

"Tina." To Chris's chagrin, Veemon pressed his inquiry when he and Tina were discussing the eight steps of a proper projection. "How long has Lalamon been liberated?"

Tina was puzzled by this sudden question, not knowing where he was getting at. "Almost two years. Why?"

"Her dark spiral's altered," Veemon guessed, still used to calling it a 'dark spiral'. "Or deactivated. How'd you keep the DSI from figuring you out? You **worked** for them; wouldn't they have some internal controls or something?"

"They actually do," Tina answered. "Four times a year I'm supposed to bring in Lalamon to M&A for inspection."

"So how—

Tina cut in. "I don't really know. I ran Lalamon's triband through do-it-yourself tests I googled up, and she passed none of them! I was scared when Lalamon went through the inspection process the first time.

She explained, "When you own a SCAI, civilian or DSI-employed, **there is no such thing as privacy**. All owners' inspection records are reviewed by upper management. The Vice-Chairman _personally_ does the final review of every case, and he ultimately decides whether they pass, fail, or require auditing. Being found guilty of owning a liberated SCAI not only sends you to prison for a few years, but also condemns you for life."

The next few words were stated coldly. "Virtually ostracized. Every quarter, those bastards **distribute** a list of people found guilty to major newspapers for publication!"

Veemon was utterly speechless.

"You can imagine how nervous I was," Tina Fujieda recounted. "Since I was _also _DSI-employed, being found guilty would land me **other** criminal charges. The funny thing was, **not once** have I been proscribed, even after being audited twice."

Before either Veemon or Christopher could comment, Yoshino jolted in her seat. "WAAH!"

All three turned their eyes on her. "What's wrong?" asked Veemon.

"They canceled today's _World God Only Knows _with some stupid DSI news!" Yoshino complained. She bit her lip. "Grrrr! I was waiting for the next episode!"

_Speak of the devil_, thought Tina, grabbing the phone from her sister. "Lemme see." She handed it to Veemon, who held out the iPhone far enough for her and Christopher to see.

"That's Mitsuo Yamaki." Tina identified the dirty-blond man clad in a three-piece suit, his sunglasses gleaming in the light. "Vice-Chairman of the DSI."

"Vice-Chairman?" repeated Veemon.

"Second-in-command," clarified Tina. "He's got power over the **entire organization**."_ And he's still under someone else! _Now that she thought about it, the identity of the Chairman was never divulged to DSI personnel, even the generals from M&A. Whoever surpassed Mitsuo Yamaki in authority would be a mystery to anyone but the Vice-Chair himself.

"What's he doing?" asked Christopher.

"Isn't it obvious?" Tina chided. "Holding a press conference."

Veemon gasped, eyes on the caption scrolling the bottom of the screen. _"TERRORIST LEADER TAICHI YAGAMI DIES IN LAST NIGHT'S CLASH."_

"—chi Yagami caught us at our weakest," the Vice-Chair boomed, "when most of our veterans were deployed to advance the Digital World's conquest. He employed Wild Ones, disbursing their capacity for mass destruction without restraint! Scores of men—many, novices in combat—died last night, defending the world's **only guardian** against the self-conscious artificial intelligences vying to invade Earth and wipe out humanity!

"Thanks to these terrorists, hundreds of lives have been lost," Yamaki's solid voice became somber. "Destroyed equipment and collateral damage amount to billions of yen. Families all over Japan will suffer emotionally and financially. I won't be surprised if it'll take years for our people and our economy to bounce back from this tragedy.

Tina held her breath. _Isn't the US still in recession?_ _Surely the Japanese government could finance itself through interest-free debt._

Adjusting his sunglasses with gloved hands, "Rest assured, the sacrifices made in Japan's name were not in vain." Yamaki's voice turned into a thundering roar. "TAICHI YAGAMI IS DEAD! Without a leader of his ability the Digidestined will soon crumble." He stared straight at the cameras. "I will go the extra mile and ensure this national tragedy does not happen again. The DSI **will** strengthen its defenses by—

Veemon pushed one of the buttons on the iPhone and shut off the video feed, unable to keep watching. He immediately turned to Chris, tugging his black vest. "Chris!" he panicked. "We need to get to Mt. Fuji **fast**!"

Tina was incredulous, repeating Veemon's words at a volume audible only to everyone at the table. "The Digidestined are in Mt. Fuji?" _Impossible!_

"Oh noes!" The Chosen clasped a hand over his mouth, ogling Tina in alarm. Yoshino appeared sympathetic (but incapable) to Veemon's plight. Christopher's relaxed disposition became guarded; Tina noticed a small, black object materializing subtly in the blond's left hand. _The sword!_

Tina knew Chris could kill every single person in this café and get away before any authority would catch a mere glimpse of him. Sweat rolled down her cheeks. Her purple eyes gazed at Yoshino for a fleeting moment before she made eye contact with Christopher's piercing, goldenrod eyes and Veemon's anxious scarlet.

She needed to defuse the tension before death claimed both of them.

The former soldier seized Veemon's arm. It was shivering from fright. Tina held it firmly. "Calm down!" she assuaged, speaking for both Yoshino and herself. "We won't tell anyone." It was the truth. Meeting the Chosen challenged her opinion of the digimon in their entirety, when her initial hypothesis deemed Lalamon and the few kind SCAI's as exceptions to the rule.

Veemon was still thunderstruck. Wordless. Christopher spoke for him. "How do **we** know you won't do just that?" A glacial voice, so intimidating, so menacing it frightened Yoshino. She felt the young girl clasp her arm tight. "You've got **plenty** of incentives to rat us out."

To Chris's ire, she huffed and ignored him. There was no point arguing with Christopher. That man reeked of skepticism and was obsessed with safety. The fact he questioned Tina's attempts to defuse the predicament in a sinister voice reflected his ostensible desire to kill both her and Yoshino on the spot.

There was no reason for him to give Veemon the final word; not that Tina complained about it when it gave an opportunity for defense, for survival. Compared to all the digimon she fought, all the villains she gunned down in her two-year stint as a DSI soldier, Christopher was the **real** monster. He could back up his threats _and_ was keen to discard all sense of morality for his own sake without diffidence. After all that's how he slew all her comrades back at the Great Forest. Only a heartless person could use people, humans or otherwise, as bait. As living shields! After they have placed their trust and hope for survival in him!

Her only hope was in Veemon. If there was any trace of humanity and benevolence in that blond demon, it was present in the friendship between him and the blue dragon. The relationship was authentic. She was sure of it! Otherwise, Veemon would've been dead since the Midnight Assault. Tina and Yoshino wouldn't even be sitting here with them this very moment!

Tina could merely speculate why Chris was letting Veemon sway him, why he was giving more, but whatever the reason was, there was no way she'd let this window of opportunity slip from her grasp. Tina's hand went underneath Veemon's snout and gently clasped it, lifting it up so they could see eye to eye. "You grew on me, y'know," Tina confessed. Veemon was given a short hug and a noogie. "I can't imagine a cute thing like you getting hurt."

The woman pinched the dragon's white cheeks. "I won't betray you. You have my word."

Chris wanted to ruin it all. "What do **you** think, Vee?"

She frowned.

The dragon bit his lip, his eyes darting back and forth between Christopher and Tina. A nervous Yoshino gave him a warm smile, reassuring the digimon he could trust his sister. As the Chosen took the time to decide, Tina suffered from both terror and perplexity.

Terror: both their lives rested on the uneasy dragon. One word was all Chris needed to slash them without question; the black sword was ready in his hands.

Perplexity: the DSI had long suspected Mt. Fuji as the Digidestined's base of operations. The suspicion was so strong Mitsuo Yamaki himself led all search initiatives. Despite two years of relentless searching, employing the best resources money could buy, the DSI didn't find any traces of an underground stronghold. _Yet Veemon just confirmed it!_

Something big was going on in the DSI. Tina knew better not to pry into these kinds of things.

.

.

It took awhile for Veemon to give his verdict. "We can trust them."

Tina felt like rejoicing, having escaped the blade of death yet again.

Chris asked again. "Are you sure?"

The blue dragon was positive. "I got a good feeling."

"You're basing your decision on **intuition alone**?" derided Christopher, leaning closer towards Veemon, boring his penetrating glare into the dragon's scarlet eyes. He wanted Veemon to revoke his verdict. If Tina wasn't so scared of him she would've slapped the guy. _He __**really**__ wants to kill us!_

Veemon's reply was instant. "I trusted **YOU**, didn't I?"

Christopher was startled. His resentful eyes twitched. His acquiescence came ten seconds later. "Fine," he withdrew grudgingly.

Tina wiped her sweat. _That was close._ She looked at Veemon. "Thank you."

The Digimon of Miracles responded with cheer, devoid of regrets. Tina reciprocated. Yoshino and Lalamon were just as relieved and happy.

Then she tilted towards the dragon. "Hey, Veemon. There's something you'll **want **to know."

"What is it, Tina?" Her name was verbalized with trust and warmth.

Out of gratitude, the former soldier decided to divulge something that was undisclosed to the public. "Forget what Yamaki just said in that press-con," she propounded, leaning closer, whispering straight into Veemon's conical ears. "Taichi's **alive**."

The dragon's ears shuddered, spiking up. "Taichi's **AL—**

"SHHH!" Tina thrust her hand and silenced him, making sure she didn't make the same mistake Chris did and overshoot. "Not so loud!" Tina's purple eyes surveyed the café, looking out for potential eavesdroppers. Luckily nobody cared for Veemon's sudden exclamation. "Taichi's in the holding cells near the Sixth Gate. It's close to M&A's lowest level."

Veemon was flabbergasted. "B-b-b-but, but, how did he, how…?"

"As far as I know," Tina stopped his stammering. "The DSI **should've** lost in last night's fight. But something happened"—she ogled Christopher. "I don't know what," she preempted—"and tipped the scales for them. And as you saw in the news, the higher-ups are taking all the credit they can get.

"By the way, this is **in-house** information, so don't talk about it in public." Veemon gulped. "The last thing I want is a DSI investigator knocking at my door."

"I, I-I won't."

* * *

Veemon was restless.

Who wouldn't be, after the news? The Digidestined launched an attack but failed. Taichi was reported to have died but was still alive, imprisoned in M&A's Sixth Gate (whatever that meant). He and Chris possessed an item that would bolster the Digidestined. Knowledge of either would certainly calm the disarray and/or grief gripping them.

Before they could pay the bill, the short, blue-haired manager (and owner, naturally) Konata emerged from her office revitalized and grateful. With an ostentatious display of acrobatics, the woman served their chocolate cornets, including one for Tina herself.

Asserting dessert was on the house, Konata explained it was a gesture of thanks directed to Christopher and himself for not only ordering a lot of food, but also improving the business for the rest of the day.

The blue dragon figured they should at least finish dessert, talking to their newfound friends for the last time. Looking from the corner of his eye, he caught Christopher steal a small piece of food Lalamon spat on her plate. Nobody else saw this. Nobody saw him swab the fresh bolus on the Realm Scanner's gemstone, his eyes glowing blue for twenty seconds at most.

"What're you doing?" the Chosen questioned.

"Nothing important," Chris dismissed him, staring at the chocolate cornet.

He was—and foolishly so—baffled, staring at the drill-shaped pastry filled with delicious chocolate with a thin and fat end. "Stupid question: how do I eat this?" Veemon groaned. _Foreigners._

Yoshino nonchalantly replied. "You eat it head first, duh."

Tina confused him further, "Depends on what you think's the head then."

"And, uhhh, which one's the head?" Lalamon giggled at this.

Mischief shone in Veemon's eyes. "I'll show you!" The blue dragon bent towards Chris, opened his mouth, and chomped down on the rotund end. Chocolate gushed out of the cornet and made a mess. Veemon licked the brown fluid off his lips. "Yummy!"

"You love chocolate, don't you?" Yoshino wondered.

The Chosen grinned, his silence speaking for him.

They heard Christopher grumble. "Could've just pointed at it, Vee." Following his friend's lead, he bit into the fat end. Too bad Veemon took out most of the chocolate in it.

"Eeeeeeeehhhhh!" Veemon protested. "Where's the fun in that?"

.

.

In fifteen minutes they were done. Christopher paid the bill, with Tina paying for her and Yoshino's share. The former soldier gave Chris directions on how to commute to Mt. Fuji from Konata Café before bidding them good luck. "Nice getting to know you two," she said, shaking both their hands. "And don't forget," Tina reminded, "avoid the main roads."

The former soldier had been very extensive on her directions, to the point she apprised them of several DSI outposts in the Mt. Fuji region.

Yoshino's farewell was the standard "nice to meet you" like her older sister before her. That didn't stop her from glomping Veemon and hugging him for ten seconds when she bid farewell to him. Veemon found it awkward for the embrace to have lasted so long, until he realized in hindsight that she had been worried for him.

Her digimon left with only a respectful nod. "Take care." _That's one shy Lalamon_, he noted. The Lalamon at the Great Forest base were definitely more social.

"Let's go," muttered Christopher.

"Yeah," Veemon climbed on his back. "We got no time to waste."

Mt. Fuji, here they come.

* * *

Tailmon guarded the wooden house next to the tree she was perched on. She glanced at the afternoon sky. The sun was past the midpoint, indicating it was somewhere around a quarter before two.

Her ears twitched, registering footsteps coming from the backyard. Tailmon leapt from her perch and bounded towards the back, where she saw Mantarou Inoue approaching, heaving a rather bulky backpack on his shoulders. "Hey Tailmon!" greeted the man, his hands grimy from climbing up the deep well. His green hoodie was just as messy, though did a good job shielding him from the cold, mountain air.

Which Tailmon didn't have much of a problem with.

"Manta, what're you doing here?"

They locked eyes in this small clearing, enveloped by the frigid embrace of the pine trees, accompanied only by a deep well. The well itself was an entrance to the underground tunnel network. Two steel ladders, difficult to discern from without, ran down either side, leading to a small opening enough to fit one man—one, **crouching** man—a few feet above the waterline.

This entrance wasn't the one normally used by the Digidestined, though anyone who came through here was almost always expected to have a direct connection to the Twelve.

"I brought lunch," replied Mantarou. He took off his backpack and set it down on the grass. "Sorry I'm a little late." He reached in, drawing out two bento boxes. One for Tailmon. Another for Hikari. "It isn't much, but we prepared chicken teriyaki and some sushi for both of you. We were getting worried, since you two never went back in."

"Hikari," Tailmon sighed, feeling dejection claim her heart, "doesn't seem to hear me anymore." Her large ears drooped sadly. The three indigo tufts of hair on each were worse, like they were lifeless. The white cat caught her striped tail and, pulling on its two-foot length 'til she could grasp the thick, gold ring adorning it. Tailmon rolled it, playing with it just to keep herself busy. "It's like she's gone insane."

Mantarou nodded understandingly. "She's not alone in her grief," he sympathized. "We're all at a loss." Tailmon found it funny how that sentence was encompassing enough—yet simultaneously deficient in quality—to capture the ramifications of Taichi's death, psychological and tactical. "But she's the one taking the worst of it."

"I know," the Digimon of Light mumbled. "She's had it hard, Manta. Very, _very_ hard." Tailmon had been right beside her partner all those times, her blue eyes witnessing her downward spiral. "You know how dependent she was on Taichi." None of the memories were forgettable, for each had struck a blow to the Twelve, the damage to Hikari's heart and self-confidence trebling in progression.

The Shinjuku March instigated this dark descent. Miyako Inoue, the organizer of this whole event, led a congregation of sympathizers and tamers, with logistics, food and beverages, and other such concerns handled by the First Generation. Miyako's contemporaries walked by her as she protested the discriminatory legislation being passed by the Prime Minister. A megaphone in hand, the Inheritor of Love and Sincerity demanded the repeal of policies prejudiced against digimon, reiterated the Twelve's conviction of Professor Oak's innocence.

One moment, they were all marching, parading across the Shinjuku Ward, calling for more and more supporters and exposing the injustice being committed before the very public when her head popped like a balloon, bursting into indistinct pieces of meat and a shower of blood. Bright, scarlet blood. In front of everyone. In front of Hikari.

None of them were ready. None of them expected the sudden death. To cope with it, impossible at the time. Hikari confined herself in isolation for the next few days, the next few weeks to come. She refused to discuss it. She refused to walk out of her room. She cried every night, and she couldn't bring herself to do anything but eat, sleep, and mourn, traumatized completely by the gruesome death.

Only when Taichi, Takeru, and Daisuke together became her pillars of support did she finally begin chipping away at the shell she put around herself. Tailmon honestly didn't know _how_ Daisuke Motomiya pieced himself together as well. The Child of Miracles was the most unfortunate of them all, for he had been speaking with Miyako at such a close distance when her head exploded right in front of him, before his russet eyes. Even Chibimon, who had long been comfortable with Patamon and herself, was woefully silent despite all the prodding. Only the Harmonious Ones knew what went on between them.

But just as things were starting to look up for Hikari, life had decided to remove the foundations for her psychological development, for her sense of _security_ and safety, one by one...

The most horrific tragedy had plenty of names when discussed by the Twelve or anyone within their families. It was called "That Night". Other times, it was referred to as the "Reception", the "Party", or some other reference Tailmon had yet to pry from the relatives of the Chosen Children.

What made this disaster so horrifying, so catastrophic, were not only the dead victims but also its timing. It took place literally **days** after Hiroaki Ishida and Natsuko Takaishi decided to remarry, **days** after Takeru Takaishi's illusion and deepest desire were about to realize. A night of joy and celebration, yet so special and private, with **only** the Ishida and Takaishi clans being the first to celebrate Hiroaki and Natsuko's decision. Of all the remaining eleven, only Hikari, Taichi, Sora, Daisuke, and their partners were invited, simply because of the intimate relationships they each had with either Takeru or Yamato.

"Family affairs", however, compelled Daisuke to decline.

And fortunately so.

That night the house exploded in a massive cloud of orange flames and debris, rupturing the air with a distinct crack in the air. Anti-digimon organizations—scattered, unorganized predecessors of the Digital Suppression Initiative—coordinated a joint strike from three different directions. Nobody was aware of the attack until it was too late.

By a stroke of luck Hikari, Sora, and Taichi intercepted one of the enemy teams. Yet none of their best efforts managed to stop any of the extremists' grenadiers from shooting the very explosive that wiped **both** clans from existence. But Tailmon never forgot those who got away. The Digimon of Light growled at the images popping inside her mind. The foreigner with the bright yellow hair. The red-haired "Reeves", who had fired one of the many rockets that demolished the home, right in front of her eyes.

Terrible.

How the extremists and their anti-digimon organizations obtained information about the Reception and acted upon it baffled the Chosen Children **to** this very day. And to think this happened on the night _before_ Hikari's 18th birthday.

Tragic.

"I can't imagine being in her position," Manatarou Inoue pondered on what little he knew of the Yagami siblings' past.

With her boyfriend gone, only Taichi and Daisuke were left to bring back the innocent sparkle in Hikari's dead stare. Somehow, the two of them managed it and allowed Hikari to feel loved, to feel a smile grace her face once again...

Until the Child of Miracles vanished without a trace. Until the newly-consolidated DSI declared war on the Digital World and everything it represented, claiming it was a necessary conquest for the progression of humankind and the subjugation of Man's "rebellious creations". Until Hikari and Taichi dissociated their parents from themselves, relying on a sympathizer specialized in illegal, morally questionable activities to change their names.

Tailmon seized one of the bento boxes and began eating, her gloved paws dexterously holding the chopsticks Mantarou kindly gave to her. The food was nourishing, its taste invigorating. Energizing. Her cerulean eyes gazed at the Inoue. "How're Rika and Renamon?"

A smile curled on his lips. "Doing better," he answered. "Renamon regained consciousness five minutes before I left, but she's, not in any shape to talk or move."

Tailmon swallowed two pieces of sushi generously splashed with a mixture of Kikkoman and wasabi. _Hopefully she'll be healthy enough to talk about this "Operation: Pyramid" tonight. _"Great."

Mantarou returned the other bento box into his backpack. "Damn, why did I bother taking out the second one again?" he whispered, stabbing himself for his own mistakes.

The white cat stopped the man before he could start forcing the boxed lunch into his bag. "I'll deliver that to Hikari when I'm done," she said, placing her paw—one covered in a yellow, red-striped glove—over his hands. "You can count on me."

Mantarou bowed gratefully. "We're all waiting for you back at the base," he reminded Tailmon, beginning a slow walk back to the well. "Take care of Hikari for us, Tailmon. You're the only one she can truly rely on."

"As her digimon partner, sister, and friend," Tailmon swore, "I swear."

* * *

Hikari Yagami huddled in the dark corner of the lodge, hugging her legs. Despondency filled her sweet eyes. The lodge itself was a mess. Antique lampstands, beautiful crystal statues of animals, and breathtaking paintings, among other items, were laying on the floor in fragments, in so many pieces the only way to recover these lost artifacts was to rewind time itself.

A pair of brass knuckles was on the floor next to Hikari. In her grief and rage she vandalized the pristine vacation home. In her pool of misery the Child of Light burrowed her face into the long-sleeved green and yellow shirt. Into Takeru's old shirt. Abject, old memories continued to haunt her, torment her.

.

.

"_I have a present for you," Hikari said, presenting a necklace for the Child of Hope. A small jewel of the most verdant green vaguely resembling the nine-pointed Crest of Light dangled on its crimson strings. She brought it down Takeru's head, kissing him as she did so._

_The young man protested. "Hikari, you shouldn't have! It's your birthday tomorrow; I'm the—_

_A finger on his mouth shushed him. "I know," she beamed. "But for once I'd like to give __**you**__ something for a change." Hikari's dazzling eyes gazed down, looking downcast for but a mere moment. "For everything you've done for me."_

_Takeru shook his head. "Taichi and Daisuke were around too."_

"_True," acknowledged Hikari with a laugh. "But," she found herself saying, "You're special."_

.

.

Hikari Yagami clutched her head, trying to shake off the memory. "S-stop it…"

.

.

_Takeru smacked her on the lips. "Same to you." The Child of Hope held the gift before his ultramarine eyes. The jewel sparkled radiantly, even in the absence of light. Truly it was one of a kind. "So beautiful," rasped his hollow words. "Glorious." He ogled Hikari, sending her a disapproving stare. "This must've been expensive!"_

"_Hmmm," Hikari giggled, to his astonishment. "I never bought that."_

_The Child of Light chortled more when she beheld his puzzled countenance. "I found this when we defeated BelialVamdemon six years ago. It fell right next to me. As beautiful and as 'glorious' as you see it now." She rubbed the jewel thoughtfully before releasing it from her grasp. "I always kept it with me, Takeru. A remembrance of our hopes. Our dreams. Of how Light always prevails…"_

_Takeru did not reply. He was at a loss for words. Hikari Yagami had just presented him an object of incomprehensible sentimental value. "Can't wait to see what you're giving me tomorrow," the young woman spoke, a sly grin forming on her face._

"_I'll think of something," mused the Child of Hope. He embraced the Child of Light beside him. The couple began a passionate kiss, caressing each other's cheeks, each other's bodies, basking in the presence of only each other, ignoring the bustling sounds of the household below, trapped in a loving darkness with only themselves. _

.

.

"AGH!" Hikari pounded on the lodge's wooden wall. She banged her head on it, trying to make the memories stop. "STOP!" She always relived this moment in every instance of emotional agony. Still pictures of a burning house, countless debris falling off, flashed in her mind repeatedly along with this memory.

The Child of Light was imagining herself in the Memorial Chambers underneath Mt. Fuji. There was fifth chamber now, one made for Taichi Yagami himself. Hikari clutched her head, appalled. Her mind regressed once more, returning to that scene in the night.

.

.

_The room was largely empty. There wasn't even a bed; only a carpeted floor. The couple remained on the floor, locked in each other's embrace. This was soon going to be Takeru's room. Hikari was going to watch her boyfriend populate it…and maybe give him a tip or two on tidiness and room care if he needed it, that is._

_Neither boy nor girl knew how much time they had spent hugging each other tenderly, not until Taichi's voice floated from downstairs, muffled by the wooden door close by. Hikari had to go._

"_Oh yeah!" exclaimed the Chosen Child. "I'm picking up Sora with Taichi at her house. Wanna come?"_

_Takeru politely declined. "Sorry," he apologized. "The entire family needs help preparing for the party." Takeru gave her a cheerful grin. "I'll be seeing my cousins, aunts, and uncles later. I've never met my extended family before, actually."_

"_It'll be a fun night, huh?"_

_Takeru nodded, before kissing his beloved one more time. "Not without you, Hikari."_

"_You better introduce me when I get back." She smiled, reciprocating the gesture. Taichi was calling again. Impatience seemed to have stained his voice. Hikari had to get out. Now. The last thing she wanted was someone—anyone—opening the door without warning and isolating the two from the veil of darkness. It would look __**so**__ wrong, on so many levels._

_The Child of Light kissed him again. "I love you, Takeru."_

"_I love you, too, Hikari."_

.

.

Then this tender scene changed.

.

.

_A two-storey house was blanketed by several explosions, from multiple sides. Rocket-propelled grenades crashed into the building, cooking its occupants beyond recognition. Its foundations were crumbling. Hikari recounted herself falling on her knees, water blurring her vision, and the image of Takeru Takaishi, his dirty blond hair, his hopeful ultramarine eyes conveying only optimism and buoyancy, filling her head. _

"_TAAAAAAKKKEEEERRRRUUUUU!"_ The younger Yagami remembered herself screaming.

"_I'll let you shoot the next one, Lucy," chuckled the red-haired Reeves as the man and her female companion departed from the scene, leaving behind a fallen comrade for dead. An atrocious act, though there wasn't much of a point when the person was dead already to begin with._

.

.

Hikari buried her face into Takeru's shirt. She never saw the man again, not even during his funeral. Traces of Patamon's data were present at the scene, underneath the scorched rubble. Takeru's own body had vanished, presumably turned into red paste like some of the unfortunate relatives of the two families. Children and adults alike died on that day, and many mourned their deaths.

The Child of Light missed Takeru's warm touch, the feeling of his lips on her own. All she had left of him was the top he used to wear. His scent had long decayed into oblivion, though she always imagined it was still there.

Hikari attempted to control herself, to keep her emotions in check. Taichi had just died, and the first thing she thought of was Takeru. She didn't recall her first adventure with Taichi, his overprotectiveness, his guidance, his **everything**, until much later. Takeru dominated her. Controlled her. All from within. All to maintain her sanity.

Then she heard another voice float into her ears, summoned by the echoes of the past. _"You are my best friend, Hikari. I will always be here for you. Through thick and thin. No matter what._" Hikari's gold bracelet glimmered on her left wrist, the word "ALWAYS" still etched on it.

Daisuke Motomiya's gift for her 18th birthday. A gift of loyalty and promise. A gift of friendship and support. The Child of Miracles loved her, and continued to love her, even when she had been taken by another. Daisuke was a true friend.

Yet in her hours of need, current and past, the man was absent, vanished from the earth without a trace.

Then Taichi usurped her mind's eye. The memories of her childhood and teenage years with her beloved brother were so vivid, so full and encompassing, no description could capture them.

Everything converged, all those wonderful, heartwarming memories, replaying over and over again. Hikari's eyes resumed its stream of tears, her chest becoming heavier in a renewed grief. She had lost all three of them now. All three. Hikari cursed life. Cursed God Himself for letting this happen.

Why must Man be concupiscent? Why couldn't Man coexist with Monsters? Why was the Real World so cruel and harsh? Why couldn't the Twelve even fulfill **step one**? Where was the hope in all this? Where was the light? How long will they continue fighting a losing battle? The other four Chosen Children, stranded in the Digital World, was surely, gradually falling to the overwhelming might of the Digital Suppression Initiative. What was the point of fighting a war they had no chance of winning in the first place, all because of plain, human nature?

Hikari struggled to push these queries away, but the more she repelled them the more they resurfaced. A lethal combination of rage and grief controlled her. The younger Yagami wanted to BLAME SOMEONE! ANYONE! So she could hurl all of her anger, all of her melancholy and frustration, at that person!

Sadly, she couldn't use Takeru as a scapegoat. She couldn't use Daisuke. Neither could she pin it on Taichi's arrogant defense of his "operation". Takeru was murdered in cold blood. Daisuke vanished in murky circumstances. Taichi may have ignored her warnings, but only because of both his personality and her sake.

"Hikari!" bellowed a sweet-sounding voice. It was Tailmon. "Manta brought some food!"

Her stomach growled. She was hungy. No, _famished_. Hikari still **chose to ignore** her digimon partner. She was in no mood to eat. Grief spoiled her appetite. She did not answer.

Tailmon knocked on the door. She persisted on bugging the Child of Light until she finally acquired a response. The knocking was soft at first, but the Digimon of Light strengthened the power every minute.

.

.

Hikari couldn't take it anymore.

Visions of Takeru, Daisuke, and Taichi were swirling in the churning eddy of memories.

"STOP IT!" Screamed the Child of Light. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Tailmon suppressed a whimper, but failed to prevent Hikari from hearing it. "B-but Hikari…"

"**DAMMIT, JUST GO AWAY!**" ejaculated Hikari, shouting so loudly as if all her fury was directed at none other than Tailmon herself. "**GO AWAY!**" The Digimon of Light no longer spoke.

.

.

Hikari realized what she had done thirty minutes later. It was wrong to put the blame on Tailmon like that; she was simply being Hikari's partner, being Hikari's friend. Tailmon held only genuine concern for her, yet Hikari pushed her away.

Tears cascaded her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Tailmon." It was spoken softly. "I'm sorry." A little louder, just enough for only the feline to hear. "I'm sorry…"

Tailmon did not reply. Hoping she could still make amends, Hikari rose with a speed that could only be delineated as phlegmatic. She undid the lock and pulled the blasted thing open, only to find the bento box sitting on her doorstep. The white cat was nowhere in sight.

_I must've hurt you,_ regretted Hikari Yagami, picking up the box. The younger Yagami returned to her corner and devoured the package's contents. Not even food could mend the hole in her heart.

* * *

The trip to Mt. Fuji took a few hours. Chris and Veemon, adhering to Tina's directions, took the light rail back to Shibuya, where they boarded a bus to a rural town in Mt. Fuji. Christopher wanted to just **run** the highway rather than commuting, but he was afraid Veemon would reprimand Chris for withholding the information in the first place.

The sun was beginning to set, and the pair set off from the rustic town, beginning the trek. Veemon pointed to a tiny lodge positioned a few kilometers away. Given the terrain, it would probably be another hour's worth of walking. The blue dragon disembarked from his back when they started on nature's path, wanting light exercise.

Christopher Van Numen, if he wanted, could have opted to carry Veemon and run all the way to the lodge; they would've been there in less than fifteen minutes. Instead, he deliberately plodded. The time for separation was coming and Chris wanted to maximize his time with the blue dragon. The Chosen had been a good friend to him; this was the least he could do. Veemon didn't mind the slow speed either. They would arrive at the destination a few minutes behind schedule, but as long as they got there by sundown, there wasn't a problem.

Chris engaged in some small talk. Veemon may have told him the story of their fight against Ken when he was possessed by the Dark Spore, and their latter crusade against Yukio Oikawa, but he had yet to tell him about the backstory, i.e. the adventure of the Twelve's first generation.

"It was more of a struggle to survive," Veemon corrected him before proceeding to the storytelling. It was difficult to talk of something he had never experienced, but only heard mostly from Daisuke, seeing how he was tight with both Takeru and Taichi. "You can't trust Daisuke to remember **everything**," Veemon quipped.

By the time light had dimmed in the wild, forest environment, Chris had been given a rough summary of the Twelve's story. Veemon was quiet now, slowly leading Chris towards the lodge. There were a few things bugging the blond, and, well, he thought it was the best time to speak up. "Vee."

"Yeah?" He responded, sending back a fleeting glance.

"Before we left the Digital World," he began, "Ken told me all twelve of you have a 'special connection' to this lodge. Why's that?"

The Chosen's feet stopped and dug into the steep, rocky slope. He clutched a tree root and hoisted himself up, grasping a small hold. "It's where everything began."

"Uh huh…"

"Remember that story I just told you?" Veemon resumed his pace, climbing. "Taichi and the first eight—or seven, since Hikari was too sick to go—got their digivices here. It's also where they first went to the Digital World.

Veemon took a deep breath and finished the climb, sitting down on the ledge while he watched Chris follow him. "We used to go here every summer after kicking BelialVamdemon's butt." Chris saw him make a happy smile. "Always a bonding experience for all of us."

Christopher groaned when he sat next to Veemon. "Do you trek this way _everytime_?"

"NO!" Veemon blurted. "I'd hate every trip then!" He laughed. "We just rode in cars with our families, hauling camping gear and everything."

The blond complained. "Sooooo, why _didn't_ we take the roads again?"

"And risk being seen?" countered the Chosen. "You remember what Tina said."

"...Right."

He felt Veemon pat his back. "Be patient, Chris. We'll be there soon."

A few moments passed. The Digimon of Miracles snorted, amused. "I wonder. If we _were _rushing, you could've just," he furtively suggested, "let me ride on you and run all the way up there from the very beginning." He closed his eyes and grinned. "I bet we'd be there in fifteen minutes." The dragon stuck his tongue out. "Even less."

Christopher looked at Veemon. "What, you think I can do that?"

The dragon nodded. "I know you well enough."

Veemon laughed when he saw Chris crack a smile at the remark. "You got me. When did you realize this?"

"Since we left town," retorted the Chosen. "But I didn't say anything." He smirked, "Thought you enjoyed my company."

Chris fidgeted nervously. "Err, you could say that."

Veemon rose and stretched. "So what now? The slope'll get steeper from here on."

Christopher glanced ahead. As the Chosen said, the slope **did** get steeper. The undergrowth was also thicker, reminding Chris of the Great Forest, except there were more cobwebs and _obviously_ no giant trees. _At least, there's no annoying digimon to deal with_, he thought, easily recalling the trouble he had with the six Woodmon.

He ogled the dragon again. Veemon was just staring, waiting on his answer. Chris took a moment to speak. "Keep walking."

.

.

"Curious question," Christopher inquired.

"Wait!" Veemon grunted, struggling to overcome a slippery incline. The slope was now almost 90°. The underbrush was excessively thick. Giant spiderwebs, about one to two feet in diameter, were prevalent. Feeling invisible strings and something crawling on your skin was nasty, especially when you're climbing.

Currently, Veemon was gripping an exposed tree root belonging to a small, dead-looking tree a meter ahead. In his other hand was a patch of wild grass. His right foot kept slipping, emphasizing the need to concentrate. Falling would return him to the previous ledge, and that was about several feet below. The landing was sure to be painful. (Well, not really; Chris was standing on it, watching his every move.)

"I never liked this part," he panted, struggling to overcome the hurdle. "Daisuke almost broke a leg here once."

Chris didn't speak, knowing Veemon needed to concentrate. He was done in five minutes. He stood on the next ledge, looking down at Chris. "Your turn."

_I am __**not**__ going through all that._ Chris was going to jump it. He retreated to the edge of the previous ledge and readied himself, breathing before beginning his sprint. With one leap, Chris bounded upwards, soaring towards the next ledge. Veemon, anticipating something like this, advanced a bit to give the blond some space.

Chris's jump was successful. The blue dragon was clapping in cheerful applause when the ledge **suddenly gave way**. "Oh shit!"

The typical reaction was to reach out for something. Since Veemon was right in front of him, that was exactly what he did. Chris clasped the Chosen's arm. "H-H-HEY! Grab a root or something, not"—he was dragged down as well—"meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Christopher kicked his foot into the slope, carving out a niche deep enough to be a foothold. That didn't restore his balance. He was about to fall backwards when Veemon seized the dead-looking tree—it was thin, thank God!—with his two feet. He glared angrily at the blond. "I hate you."

"Sorry," was his sheepish apology. _Lucky that tree didn't give_, he thought, vaulting the ledge the same way Veemon did earlier. _So much for the easy way._

Fortunately for them, the steep gradually became a glacis. The undergrowth was thinning out, allowing light from the dim sunset to brighten the area. Christopher returned his eyes to the path they just traversed. _How dark is it down there now?_

"Oh yeah!" Veemon's child-like voice rang his ears. "You were asking me something, right?"

The pair rejoined a mountain path smoothened by frequent travel. "I've been wondering about it since we first met." Chris gazed down at the blue dragon. "Kinda funny how I never thought about it for the entire week I've known you."

"Really?"

Chris tapped the 'V' mark on Veemon's forehead. "Soooo, what does the 'Vee' in your name mean?"

The dragon flashed a grin. "You're not the first one to ask that." He made a V sign, jutting it towards the blond. "It's Vee for victory!" Veemon proudly exclaimed. "The Harmonious Ones even call me the 'Digimon of Miracles'!"

"Sooooo," Chris cocked an eyebrow. "You bring victory through miracles?"

"Mmmmmhmm!"

* * *

Christopher was frozen stiff from Veemon's enthusiastic reply.

"Chris?"

"Victory?" The enigmatic blond shook his head, his emotionless expression adopting one of disbelief. "Did you just say '_victory_'?_" S_nickers escaped his mouth. "I can't believe it." Snickers became giggles. "I just can't believe it!" Giggles became howling laughter. "HAHAHAHA!"

"Why..." Veemon frowned. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because of your _name_," the man blurted. "It's about victory. Miracles!"

Hearing Chris say it outright was irritating. Veemon felt like his very existence was being downplayed, made trivial by the scorn of someone he called friend. "Well stop it! It isn't funny!" He kicked the blond in the leg, hoping it would shut him up. "That's who I am!"

Christopher Van Numen was unfazed. "And you'll really bring victory?" he asked. He had stopped chortling like someone clinically insane, yet the pitch in his voice embodied his amusement and derision.

"I _brought_ victory," the dragon restated coldly. "I fulfilled my destiny when we fought BelialVamdemon ten years ago."

Goldenrod eyes gawked at him. "What the hell? You've got **DESTINY** involved with your crap, too?"

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

The blond's answer for him was the incoherent laughter of a madman. It started slow and intermittent, but became louder and louder as Christopher's emotions became much easier for Veemon to read. A strange mix of sadness and disbelief, as though it was the only way he could cope with this revelation. The only way Chris could react once he learned the nature of Veemon's name and his designation as the Digimon of Miracles.

Yet it was a tactless response on the blond's part, and at once the blue dragon felt offended. Christopher evaded every single one of his questions and resorted to laughter and vague inquiries of his own. His manic chuckling was the last straw.

Veemon pounced on Christopher, clenched the collar of his vest, and shook him violently to grab his attention. 100% of it. "Why do you find it so FUNNY?" Veemon growled. "All twelve of us were brought together to save _two_ parallel worlds. And **everybody**, digimon and human, needed what it took to win!

His hands were quivering. A part of him wanted to push Christopher further and demand what was going on with him, _why_ he reacted so... strangely... so _offensively_. Another wanted to smack him, to bash his head in or at least make his best attempt at it, seeing how he couldn't be hurt anyway. "We all played our parts. We all had to work together! When Ken was the Kaiser, **I** was always the first to reach the next stage. **I** was the first to Armor Evolve, to get a second Armor Form! I was the **only** one to use the Digimental of Miracles!

"_That_ was my role. My destiny!" Those golden irises narrowed, and Chris' lips formed a slight, barely unnoticeable frown. But Veemon did not notice. He kept on going, if only to prove to him his name, his destiny, his very nature, wasn't something to laugh about. "But I'm just one piece of the puzzle. Without each other we wouldn't have one and fulfilled the prophecies!"

Despite the sour mood at the mere mention of "destiny", the laughter became much harder and more annoying as Veemon told his story.

"HEY!"

Chris was not listening to him. "The irony," the murmurs rambled. "The f*cking irony!"

Veemon reared his fist. The blond was beyond help and needed something a little more close to home. "Chris, would you just stop l—AGH!"

His wrist was seized without warning. The grip was tight. Painful. Impossible to break. The Chosen fell on his back with Chris right on top of him, and as his scarlet eyes gazed into those goldenrod pools a shiver of fright passed through him. Veemon knew he could easily break his wrist or injure him without any difficulty, no matter how much he resisted. Being pinned like this made him vulnerable. Helpless. Unable to resist...

"Vincere."

As sudden as his reaction and his bizarre behavior, Christopher Van Numen regained his sanity for a single question. "Veemon, have you _ever_ heard of the word 'vincere'?"

To the dragon digimon it sounded like the word "sincere", but he was too shocked to even answer the man's question. His mouth was agape, and they were stuck in this position for over fifteen seconds now. A third party to this would have most likely seen a scene of an adult man pinning down a digimon with a crazed look in his eye, doing nothing as though smelling what odors and fumes seeped out of the dragon's open mouth.

"Well?" Christopher's yellow gaze never left Veemon's eyes, as though they were in a life-or-death situation. "Do you know what it means?"

This didn't make sense. NONE of this didn't make any sense. His behavior was baffling, and not once has he ever seen Chris act this way. It was as though Veemon said something that struck a chord, said some fact that hit _really_ close to home. But how was that even conceivable, when all Veemon did was supply more information about him, and only him?

"What is wrong with you?"

"Just answer the damn question, Veemon!"

"I don't know," the dragon yelled. "It's the first time I heard it! LET ME GO!"

Without warning, Christopher did **exactly** as told, releasing Veemon's wrist from his iron grip. "It also," he chuckled before freeing the blue dragon from his own weight. "It also means victory."

Veemon knocked his head on Christopher's. Not hard and serious enough to even _try_ hurting him, but just forceful enough to shove him a few paces back. "Laughing at my name, my destiny, my role, and asking me about some word I've _obviously_ never heard..." He folded his arms and spat, "You've gone insane, Christopher."

The offender shook his head. "You think I'm making fun of you? Laughing at you?"

"YES!"

Eye contact. "You're wrong, Vee. Completely wrong."

"But that's **EXACTLY** what you did!"

"I'm sorry I tousled you a bit," Christopher sighed. "But you'd understand if you saw it too..."

"Saw what?"

He didn't bother answering the question anymore. "You don't realize it, Vee, and you probably never will, but you and I have a lot in common..."

_In common? _That cryptic sentence astonished him. He and Christopher had **nothing** alike. The blond had a proclivity to serious thinking rather than innocent, cheerful fun. Chris found it difficult to trust others. His moral compass was questionable. On top of it he was withdrawn, like a book that refused to let others read it! Veemon was the opposite of these. That Chris hailed from a different Real World altogether emphasized this gap.

If anything, friendship and trust (however one-sided it seemed for the latter) were the common denominators. Period. Nothing more. "I honestly don't get you," Veemon admitted. "What do you mean?" Perhaps getting the blond's reasons would clarify this a bit. Besides, obscure statements like that had a tendency to stoke his childish curiosity.

"Sorry, Vee." Christopher handed him his signature line. "But it's none of your business."

"Wh-wh-WHAT!" The dismissal caught him by surprise. In retrospect, that _shouldn't _have happened, considering Veemon had been friends—better than most, in his opinion—with this reclusive, borderline nutcase for at least a week. "But we're—

Before he could demand for a _real_ response (_by force if I have to!_), Chris's eyes dilated. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of Veemon, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shoved the dragon behind him. "Whaaa?" The Chosen glared daggers at him, but was shushed when some expletives escaped his mouth.

The man mumbled, training his gaze at a patch of wild grass up ahead, to the right. "Someone's watching us."

* * *

As Hikari guessed, the Chosen Child's outburst hurt Tailmon. She had never treated Tailmon—her partner! Her best friend!—like that _ever_, imbuing intense rage and sorrow in every utterance. A dejected cat left the lodge, leaving the bento box on the doorstep. She felt like informing Hikari about the food on the door, but what's the use of that when Hikari was just going to shriek again?

Tailmon descended the mountain road to clear her thoughts. She wasn't going to stray far and head for the main highway. The Chosen needed to brainstorm a way to cheer up her human half, as well as a way for the Digidestined to regain proper leadership.

As far as the first issue was concerned, Tailmon just wasn't as creative as Veemon in that regard. Tailmon's mind was a blank slate when she started, and that did not change a bit when she stopped. As for the second, Hikari was the first and obvious choice, being the last of the Twelve still active in the Real World **and** the sister of the famed Taichi Yagami. The major problem was her level of maturity, as the tragedies between the BelialVamdemon battle and this very moment curbed her psychological development and left her emotionally weak.

There were two challenges then. One was to get Hikari out of her rut. Another was to work on her leadership skills. Her inclination to strategy.

Rika Nonaka and, of course, Tailmon herself were the solution for the second challenge. Rika had a natural aptitude for tactics, so reflective of Taichi's it was frightening. Tailmon possessed some gravity towards leadership as well, but only because of her experience, and, as much as she despised it, her upbringing under Vamdemon.

The first challenge left the white cat baffled. Hours had already passed, and she was still clueless! Tailmon banged her head on a tree. "Think," she muttered, "Think!" There was always a way. ALWAYS! Taichi Yagami acted as if he was programmed to look at the world that way. He saw himself as a driver, seeking ways to make things happen. Proactive, not reactive.

So why couldn't she think of something? It frustrated Tailmon to no end. She gave up when the sun was setting. The only thing she could do now was to be there for Hikari, whether the broken girl wanted her or not.

Tailmon was departing for the lodge when her blue-tipped ears twitched. Two voices were registered. At first she thought it was Taichi and Agumon, but in seconds, realized how erroneous her first impressions were. They sounded nothing like them. In fact, the voices weren't even **from** the Digidestined.

Alarm bells were ringing in the cat's mind. Standard operating procedures called for identification before doing anything else. Tailmon bounded into the patches of wild grass below her, dashing downwards, keeping an eye on the mountain road, treading the environment cautiously, not wanting to draw attention.

Her eyes then beheld the two speakers. The discovery invoked only astonishment. Tailmon's gaze overlooked the golden-haired man laughing on the ground like an idiot. She centered on the creature, the digimon, watching the man with an agitated expression. Familiarity and nostalgia saturated Tailmon.

It was a blue dragon. Tailmon recognized the bent, conical ears. The yellow 'V' on the forehead. The yellow markings on the cheeks. The white snout and belly. The soft tail. The red eyes.

_A Veemon_, the Digimon of Light realized.

Tailmon couldn't help but let the uplifting feeling in her chest sink in. The past was reeling her in, permeating her very being with joy and relief. Veemon was alive! Someone who was thought long dead! He was alive!

Logic reclaimed the white cat. _No!_ she insisted. _He's dead, Tailmon. He's dead! _Daisuke died two years ago, Tailmon recalled. _There's no way that's the same digimon!_ Her cerulean eyes caught the black triband suppressor on the dragon's humerus. Its presence reinforced her belief, her confirmatory bias, at least until her eyes were inscribed with the sight of Veemon pouncing on the human, grabbing his collar, and roughing him up in an explosion of frothing rage.

No SCAI would do that to an owner! This digimon acted in complete autonomy, having full reign over his reason, his emotions. Tailmon rationalized her disbelief. _It's a different Veemon_. Tailmon constantly cited. Daisuke Motomiya was dead, and his Veemon with him. Her gaze was cast at a different digimon of the same species, Tailmon told herself, even when she herself knew for a fact that the Veemon she knew was the only one of his kind.

_It just couldn't be_—her train of thought was derailed the moment Veemon started lecturing the blond man, venting out his anger by informing him of the Twelve and their roles, summarizing his major contributions to the fights in the past just to emphasize the role he had to play. The blue dragon spoke as if he had been part of the battles and participated in them. _As if he's…_ Tailmon didn't bother finishing the sentence. Emotions long lost pervaded her, gripping the white cat. Tears welled in her eyes as she let out a soft gasp of recognition.

Veemon did not her it, but his companion did. They became quiet, monitoring Tailmon's position, not that she cared. With all the joy swelling within, she ran out in blatant disregard of the Digidestined's SOPs. She scurried into plain view, startling both Christopher and Veemon. "T-TAILMON!" the dragon reacted.

"VEEMON!" Tailmon exclaimed. She leapt and tackled him, rolling down the glacis a few feet down. Her tail was wagging occasionally when Tailmon just embraced him in a tight hug, nuzzling his snout. "It's you! It's you! IT'S REALLY YOU!" Tailmon sniffed, welcoming his scent. The familiarity of it confirmed her suspicions and destroyed her doubts.

Meanwhile, "Too, tight," Veemon jabbered, trying to push Tailmon away. "Can't, breathe…"

"Oh!" Tailmon relaxed her hug. "I lost control…"

"It's been three years, Tailmon," Veemon laughed it off, smiling that happy grin. "I would've done the same myself."

Then he blushed out of embarrassment. "But, uhhh, could you please **not** hug me so," he struggled to complete his words. "Uhm, so passionately?"

Tailmon gaped at Veemon. "Huh?"

He chuckled nervously. "What if Patamon saw us?" Veemon closed his eyes, scratching his head. "He's a great friend and all, but he's got a jealous side I **don't** want to deal with…"

* * *

Tailmon withdrew the second Veemon mentioned Patamon's name. A complete retreat. When he reopened his eyes, Veemon was startled to see the white cat ensnared by stupor, her gloved paws on her mouths. Tailmon's eyes glistened with shock. "Y-you, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Veemon tilted his head inquisitively. Seconds later, his hands covered his mouth in a gesture of shock, "Don't tell me: you and Patamon broke up?"

Her ears drooped. "You, really don't know…"

Veemon's own ears dropped, reflecting his consternation. "Tailmon?"

"Veemon," Tailmon broke the news. She found itdifficult to say the words. "Patamon's, Patamon's dead."

He shook his head. "No way… I thought Miyako's the only one who—

"Patamon's been dead for three years…"

The blue dragon trembled. His voice quivered, shaken by the news. He gulped. "What, about the others?" he asked, hoping for the best.

Tailmon dashed those hopes with her next reply. Yamato and Gabumon were dead. Takeru was also gone. Sora, Mimi, and their partners were missing. The Digimon of Light hesitated to say it, but mustered the composure to inform him: "And all this time, we, w-we also thought"—she inhaled—"you and Daisuke were gone." She hugged the dragon. "I still can't believe it's really you!"

The revelation left Veemon aghast. Nobody in the Digital World told him about the others! And what's all this about everyone in the Real World thinking he and Daisuke were dead? It didn't make sense!

Veemon noticed Christopher was staring. He had been ogling him for a while. They made eye contact; the dragon could see his goldenrod eyes were mired in compunctious regret and what felt like empathy. Chris must've known all this time, but didn't bother, or couldn't compel himself, to inform Veemon about it.

"Daisuke… isn't here?"

Tailmon was silent.

Chris kept his distance and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he murmured, walking over to set a comforting hand on Veemon's shoulder. "I didn't want to burst your bubble." Those words failed to stop bitter disappointment from crawling up his spine.

"Daisuke disappeared exactly one month before the war began," whispered Tailmon. "We all thought he died." She gazed into Veemon's scarlet eyes. "You know what happens to digimon when their partners die, so…"

Tailmon hugged him again. "Sorry to give you the bad news." Christopher nodded in concurrence.

"At least we know one thing." Her lips curled into an optimistic smile. "Daisuke's out there somewhere! We'll help you look for him." Tailmon's defusal attempts didn't mollify Veemon's melancholy.

Veemon felt Tailmon's paw seize his hand. "T-Tailmon…"

She grinned. "I know someone who'll be **really happy** to see you, Veemon!" The white cat began pulling.

"W-wait," Veemon stammered, struggling against the white cat as she dragged him up the mountain path. Resistance was futile. Tailmon was a full-powered Adult, equipped with the Holy Ring on her tail. She easily overpowered Veemon. "Wait! W-we, we could just walk you know! There's no rush—AAHHH!"

Veemon glanced back at Chris with pleading eyes. "Chris!"

All he got from it was an amused laugh. _Damn you!_

"TAILMON," he begged, "SLOW DOOOOOWWWWNNNN!"

* * *

Hikari Yagami woke up to the echoes of Tailmon's voice reverberating in the lodge. "HIKARI!"

"Huh?" moaned Hikari, groggy. "Tailmon?"

"HIKARI!"

Tailmon was coming back, and she sounded cheery—the agog, excited kind of cheery.

"Guess who just went up the mountain!" she chirped. Her footsteps had become heavy; even Hikari could hear her approaching.

"GAH!" The Child of Light's ears registered a second voice. "Tailmon, we could've just walked!" It was familiar to her. _Is, that… who I think it is?_ "My, haa, knees are, haa, bruised," it whined in spite of exhaustion.

Before Hikari could react the doorknob turned—she neglected to lock it after taking the lunchbox—and the wooden panel slammed open to reveal Tailmon infected with joy, who pulled in a digimon of the brightest blue. She gasped, recognizing him immiedately. "V-Veemon?"

_But Daisuke's, Daisuke's dead!_

"It's **our** Veemon, Hikari!" Tailmon twittered. "You _better_ believe it!"

The blue dragon sheepishly waved at the young adult. "Hi, Hikari," he muttered. "What's up? Haha…"

Hikari found it impossible to restrain herself. Tears welled up within her eyes. The thoughts of Daisuke _actually_ being alive cheered her up as if either Takeru or Taichi were resurrected from the dead. She wasn't alone in this cruel world as she mused in her grief.

Her legs were moving on their own, rising, then breaking into a sprint towards Veemon, causing him to jolt. "Oh noes, not aga—!" Hikari tackled the Digimon of Miracles, rolling into a tight embrace. So great was the gravity of the younger Yagami's joy she started kissing Veemon's snout repeatedly. _I'm not alone anymore_, comprised the eddy of thoughts swirling in her head.

Naturally, Veemon found this **very** awkward. "Hikari sto-mmph!" He tried to shove her away as gently as possible, keeping his mouth away from Hikari's. "I'm a **DIGIMON** remem—mmph!—Bleh! Aren't you afraid of my germs or some—URK!" She tightened her embrace, nuzzling the dragon like Tailmon before her.

Veemon struggled to mitigate the tension. "Too, tight!"

"I'm not alone," Hikari murmured. "I'm not alone."

.

.

After a few minutes of playful struggling, after Hikari's glee faded into the levelheadedness of the 21-year-old she was, the Child of Light released Veemon, who was also recollecting himself. "I bet Daisuke would've been **so** jealous if he saw that," mumbled the blue dragon.

"Veemon," Hikari spoke, her voice happy and sweet. "Where's Daisuke?" She intended on glomping the Child of Miracles too, before squeezing him through the grill; he had a **lot** of explaining to do for his two-year hiatus.

Veemon's expression became dismal, disappointment reflected in his eyes. Hikari was baffled. "What's wrong?"

"I came here," Veemon retorted, "looking for him."

"Alone?" rasped Hikari. A Chosen wandering the Real World without his human half? "That's crazy!"

"I'm not alone," beamed Veemon. "Christopher's with me!"

She reiterated the name. "Christopher?"

"Yup. He's fun!" He chuckled merrily. "Takes **really **good care of me." Then he tapped his thick skull, becoming apprehensive. "Buuuut, he's got some problems up _here_"—then rapped on his chest—"and down here, too.

"Besides that, he's an awesome pal. It's funny how we just met last week." His scarlet eyes darted to the left. "There he is!" Veemon waved his hand. "HEY! About time you caught up, slowpoke!"

The Child of Light followed the dragon's stare. Her eyes glimpsed the blond man approach them, ascending from the mountain path. "Well, I didn't want to obstruct your happy reunion," he countered with a smile.

She regarded Chris's black vest and pants, as well as the ominous gauntlet attached to his left arm. As Hikari scrutinized his goldenrod eyes, his robust build, and the golden medallion dangling below his neck, a familiar scene flashed in her memory.

.

.

_In a secluded cave, whose interior invoked familiarity, a golden-haired man kneeled in the corner. The shadows obscured his features, but the Child of Light could remember seeing the silver gauntlet on his left arm. "It's all my fault," the man wept despondently, his heart and mind broken down completely."It's all my fault," he whispered in rapid succession, hugging what looked like a catatonic Veemon. "It's all my fault." His golden medallion swung in the air like a pendulum, its embedded jewel, a small gemstone of the most verdant green, sparkling gloriously in the darkness, contrasting this image of despair._

.

.

A horrified Hikari Yagami felt despair grip her heart.

.

.

.

_Bearing the news of Taichi's survival and an object that will reestablish connections between the Digidestined and the Digital Monsters, Christopher Van Numen and Veemon encounter Hikari Yagami and Tailmon. Though overjoyed by the sight of an old friend, Hikari was quick to realize the fledgling yet strong friendship between the Interloper and the Digimon of Miracles cemented the dark future foreseen in her dreams. Armed with this knowledge, the Child of Light must prevent it!_

_Unknown to her, aspiring for the same Christopher intends to sever his relationship with Veemon, seeking to preserve not only the blue dragon's life but also the integrity of his home universe. However, can the gears of destiny still be rewound? Does Chris have it in him to dissolve this week-old friendship?  
_

_Coming up next on _The Interloper_, "Guilty"._

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[4] There were two things that bothered me the most in this chapter. One was my portrayal of Hikari in this chapter. Another was Veemon's lecture when he pounced on Chris in a fit of anger. I find myself really concerned with the way I portrayed Hikari here. Her emotional state here was justified by the losses of Takeru, Daisuke, her own family, and now Taichi. Since I don't have a very good grasp over her character, even I am not sure whether the justifications were sufficient, or whether Hikari's personality would've led to the nervous breakdown you just read in this chapter.

And on Veemon's short lecture on the role he played as the "Digimon of Miracles", well, my only concern here was that it sounded egotistical. I personally didn't think so when I wrote it. It just sounded logical. Sure, V-Mon may have been the first to do all those things, but that was never the sole reason for the Twelve's victory over everything that obstructed their path. Even Magnamon had help during the one time he appeared in the anime series.

Anyway, if you have any comments about this, feel free to give me your feedback.

[5] Got to love the Philosophy part during the cafe scene. :P I actually had to review my notes on the Aristotelian notion of happiness and the social contract just for this. I even had to fix the conversation multiple times to keep its role in the narrative quite fluid. XD_  
_

[6] Just a little trivia. The scene in the Konata cafe never existed in the original outline. A lot of things that you have (and now) read have actually been added due to my addiction for detail and adherence to the canon. Tina Fujieda was supposed to have been killed off when I introduced her back in chapter seven (_Weakpoint_) or eight (_Biomorph_). When I took a peek ahead, planning the second story arc in detail, I came across several stumbling blocks. There was no way Chris & Veemon would know that Taichi was still alive. The DSI would find it more reasonable to declare a hated enemy dead than publicly say he was captured. Doing so will keep all the human rights watchdogs abated, and help them remain under the radar of the government. There was also the twists I have involving the organization itself. I needed to build it up, and I can't just do this if there weren't any events allowing this information to jump into the protagonists' possession!

I would **never** resort to a Deus Ex Machina. NEVER. Deus Ex Machina events tend to kill dramatic moments and undermine the characters' ability to escape terrible pinches under their own power. It's like a Mary Sue (Gary Stu) character. It ruins the reading experience and we end up ogling the fantasies of a writer. It's boring. It's trite, mundane, and quotidian. I'd rather spawn chapters proactively and kill myself in the process (not literally, of course. Don't be stupid! ^^).

[7] Guess that's it. Don't expect me to pull out the next chapter so soon now that I feel motivated to work on financial analysis again! Ahahaha!

[8] Anyway, truncated responses to reviews, if any, will be placed right below.

**Coop97**: I'm kinda amazed you actually caught up to chapter 15 in the three weeks since your past review. That's a crapload of text. It'll be surprising if you actually read it word-for-word. Anyway, YESH! I AM EEEVIL :3 But you must exercise PATIENCE! PATIENCE! Good/great chapters are borne from the fruits of hard work in planning, typing, and proofreading! It takes me about 3 months to update so you'll have to wait like everyone else. LOL

As for cliffhangers... meh. Everybody does this. *shrugs* I'll finish _The Interloper_ anyway. I'm not the type to abandon it. Probably won't write the sequel though (despite the fact I'm already planning it XD)

**Lord Pata**: Even though Patamon is apparently dead in the present time, at the very least **TAKARI GOT SOME SCREEN TIME WOOHOO!** \m/ I liked making that scene. It was hard to do at first (the first version sucked completely), but enough proofreading and constant improvement brought it to its current state. I could still refine it, but, meh, I don't really see the point now that it's as good as it is.

And as for the reference to you, LOL I knew you'd catch that. Lee's just some random name I picked up from somewhere. Not really important. The whole point behind that part of the conversation was just to poke fun at the fandom and, well, express _my_ personal opinion on the VeeGato thing. Granted, it is a sweet notion, and one of the more controversial ships in the _Digimon _fandom, but I personally think the blue dragon wouldn't even be interested in a relationship with her, even though I lack the evidence to prove _or_ disprove my claims.

I didn't even need to break the fourth wall. It's nice to presuppose the existence of the anime series itself in the _Adventure _continuity. :D

**Rets**: Good thing about character & plot development is, it's building up the story quite nicely. I gave you an outline of the major developments in chapters 14 & 15, and through it, I can tell you that we'll be having intense action in three chapters (assuming everything falls within the "word count" limit). I don't want to spoil by telling you what I got planned for the 3rd major battle in the story, but the most I can say is that the action will be VERY SIMILAR to the Midnight Assault's combat scenes, i.e. intense and detailed, which will be great considering the POV's I'll be working with are highly limited.

Use Tron: Legacy's OST instead! It's like Mass Effect... but more epic!

BTW, regarding Hikari's scene, well... to be honest, I wasn't so sure myself. But guess I'll just keep it this way. At the very least it showcases the extent of her depression.


	16. Guilty

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] Word count stands at approximately 15,850.

[2] _Guilty_ is actually just part one of the original chapter. I had to split it because I've already gone past 15,000, stopping _right before the **main event**_. *bangs head on the wall* Yep. Good job, TSI. Good job. /sarcasm. OTL

[3] I don't really have any pieces of music to recommend here. :P But, if it helps, I've been listening to an ambient / trance / vocal trance mix by DawidWarsaw of youtube. (To listen, add **/watch?v=5MYJx1lHMtw** after the youtube url). I was also listening to a lighthearted but addicting _Zero Two_ soundtrack that goes with certain scenes in this chapter. (add **/watch?v=-N0VkwwqJyI** to the usual youtube url)

[4] Comments and criticisms are very much welcome! Since _Guilty_ also represents my first attempt at getting into a character's head over the course of an entire chapter, I would look forward to feedback regarding the way I wrote this chapter, as they will improve, or at least maintain, the quality of my writing. :)

[5] On a lighter note, one of my fellow authors introduced me to _Digimon World 3. _Yes. The PSX game. Having an emulator on my lappy is so sweet. FAST FORWARD FOR THE WIN. Level grinding has never been so effin' quick. Since I got addicted to it, expect me to halt production of the next chapter for a bit. I'm already having trouble keeping up the discipline to fulfill certain real life responsibilities because of it. (*sigh* the pain of being a gamer...)

[6] Anyway! Enough rambling. Here's the 16th chapter, _Guilty_. Hope you enjoy it! ^_^

* * *

The woman carried a flustered air around her, one that gradually abated at the sight of Veemon. Frenzied with relief and joy she tackled the blue dragon and kissed him repeatedly. She didn't give a damn whether he was a digimon or not.

An amused grin was embedded on Christopher as he watched this. Once it was done, once the excitement died down and both the lady and the dragon began conversing, Chris approached. Veemon regarded him with a warm welcome, his hand making convivial waves in the air, beckoning him to come. "About time you caught up, slowpoke!"

"Well I didn't want to obstruct your happy reunion." Veemon blanched at the remark, reminded of the ordeal he had gone through. Christopher could relate to the girl; he would've done the same to **anyone** who came to him bearing positive news on Sally. Even if it was Ivan. Nothing gay about it. Sometimes the relief of knowing the life of one's beloved (best friend or significant other, whether or not they were the same person) was overwhelming.

As he approached the two of them, the woman looked up at him, wiping the tears from her hazel eyes, exploiting the moss green arm warmers she wore. Christopher noticed the lady's eyes expand and dilate. A clear look of horror.

A look of recognition.

Chris couldn't believe it, but it was true! The lady beside Veemon **recognized him**. _From where?_ Pondered the blond. This was the first time he had ever set foot in this universe. He had never met Veemon, or even heard of monsters made of computer data (however ridiculous that sounded), until he arrived here. He **obviously** never met this woman before either.

Veemon's voice broke his concentration. It also snapped the young lady back to reality. "Christopher," he informed the blond, gesturing the brown-haired woman happily. "This is Hikari." Veemon cocked his head towards the white cat that gave him a **very** sweet welcome several minutes ago. "Chosen Child of Light, and Tailmon's digimon partner."

Those red eyes glanced around. "Hikari, Tailmon. This is Chris." The blue dragon, as high as his own waist, charged at Chris and wrapped his arms around his waist in a friendly hug. "My close friend."

Chris stopped himself from snorting. He and Veemon were never _that_ close. The dragon knew so little about him, it was laughable. Had he been a close friend, he would've at least known some of the truths about him. Why he was a noninterventionist. Why he distanced himself away from others. Why his mission had to be prioritized above all things. Why the Realmstone.

These were personal issues that nobody but his real comrades knew. That they were all dead did not change a single thing: their relationship had been tight, close-knit. A family of outcasts torn from their old lives by tragedy. Christopher even felt a personal responsibility towards them, if only because he himself was the cause behind their companionship.

Veemon would know none of this. _I'm not close to you!_

Another thought passed through Christopher's mind, rebutting it immediately. If he had to ruminate, Veemon was the closest he's ever had as a friend in this universe. He already knew about Sally, about his origins (to a limited extent), and had a faint grasp of why he sought the Realmstone. The good times they shared as buddies in the past three days—or the past week—was already sufficient to establish great rapport between them.

The only reason why Veemon didn't know what he _should_ have known fell upon the blond himself. It was he who never opened up, who never gave friendship another chance, not after the catastrophe in the previous universe, and in the Space Between Worlds.

Sally's voice echoed in his head once more, summing up his subconscious in just three words.

"_You're just scared_."

Chris refused to admit this weakness. He was cutting off his ties with Veemon to protect him, wasn't he? He was doing this to maintain the balance of this universe! To prevent the cycle of annihilation that hounded him constantly without end! The blond had to stop meddling with things here before any of his pursuers caught up to him. Felicia Portal was just _one_ among the myriads of antagonists seeking Christopher's death. These enemies wouldn't hesitate to invade this world and literally destroy everything in their wake for **the life of one man**. Of their fifth and final target. He didn't even know _why_ they wanted him dead!

The voice only repeated its sneer. _"You're just scared."_

"_You bring tragedy wherever you go," _echoed the cold words of the sadistic Realmdrifter.

Christopher steeled himself and banished these thoughts. He hated it whenever these ghosts invaded his mind and messed with him. He despised the priestess's voice whenever it decided to speak, always revealing the feelings he had been suppressing within, the intentions he wanted to hide away. Chris had made a decision and he was going to push through with it! _I will. I _**WILL**_!_

He focused on the here and now, on the young adult being introduced to him. "Christopher Van Numen," the blond managed to say, tendering his hand out of respect for the formalities demanded by this meeting. "Pleased to meet you."

Hikari was diffident to take the hand and shake it. The Chosen Child slowly clasped Christopher's palm. Her hand was quivering from fright. When they made eye contact, a pair of goldenrod orbs vis-à-vis the orange pools, all Chris could see was fear and horror. "Hi-hi-Hikari, Yagami," the Child of Light followed his lead. He watched her throat move; the girl swallowed. A gesture of anxiety. "P-pleased, pleased to meet you, too."

Her voice confirmed it. Something about him terrified the poor girl. What it was, he wouldn't know a damn thing! Chris was astute enough to see Tailmon shoot a cold stare at him. The white cat had also felt the fear emanating from her partner and reacted with a glare so strong it became a silent warning. The Digimon of Light wouldn't hesitate to attack him if he did something to her beloved friend.

* * *

A menacing aura emanated from Tailmon's eyes. Veemon watched those lovely blue eyes narrow in contempt at the man he considered a close friend. He observed her digimon partner and the blond, noticing the terror swirling within the girl's eyes.

Veemon pouted and shook his head, disgruntled. Why did **everyone** treat Chris as if he rallied the end of the world? Commandramon saw him as the reason behind the unnecessary loss of lives at the Spire of Courage. Wormmon interrogated the man as if he was the enemy, a notion the late Leomon reinforced by suggesting he'd bring trouble to the Satellite Base—a ludicrous thought considering he was the one who _saved _it?

Christopher was supposed to have redeemed himself in the Digital Monsters' eyes after the role he played during the Midnight Assault, but instead, all his friends developed a fear of Chris, like he was some twisted monster comparable to the evil that plagued the Digital World so many years ago.

Seeing great fear take hold of Hikari Yagami annoyed the blue dragon. Chris was a nice guy through and through. A great friend. The Chosen had so many supports for that. Chris spared him from death and befriended him, notwithstanding the risks arising from the critical state he was in. He risked his own life to protect Veemon several times, mere hours after they first met. That said a lot considering it took Daisuke _days_ to appreciate his friendship with the Digimon of Miracles, a realization that occurred during a difficult battle!

Chris watched over him after the Midnight Assault, and bonded as friends during the three days it took for Ken Ichijouji to deliberate on setting Chris loose in the Real World. The blond acquiesced to Veemon's nostalgia and wasted one day on a tour, not minding at all. He even enjoyed it, and _actually_ responded to the dragon's attempts at deepening their friendship.

If it wasn't for the fact he came from another universe, for his inhuman abilities, Veemon could've sworn Christopher was just as human as Ken! As Hikari! As Daisuke! Trustworthy, dependable, and—the Chosen sighed, recalling the blond's burst of emotion last night—in need of help. Lonesome.

_If I can trust Christopher, then so can they! _Being the closest to the Child of Light, Veemon gently, softly, clasped her hand between his own. "Hikari," he gazed up at her with eyes brimming with reassurance. "Chris and I met when I was running from the DSI. He saved my life many times last week. He helped me _defend_ one of Ken's satellite bases from an attack. Christopher's strong and he's been watching over me since we left the Digital World yesterday." Veemon gave her the brightest smile he could muster. "Trust me, Hikari, I can vouch for him."

Yagami's coquelicot eyes fluttered, diffident before his bright crimson. "But, Veemon, I, I know I can't doubt you, but…"

Christopher invaded the conversation. "Speaking of Ken," the blond's left hand swung from his back and stopped before the Child of Light. In his hands was the box Ken had given him before they left the Great Forest. Veemon knew the blond materialized it from the Realm Scanner, an act performed discreetly behind his back. An object appearing out of nowhere would freak out just about anyone. Veemon found it hard to get used to, actually.

"He wants you guys to have this," his eyebrows furrowed, trying to furnish a decent appellation. "This, uhm…"

Veemon supplied the answer for him. It was the perfect name, one that clearly characterized the cubic item. "Orange Box." It didn't take a lot of imagination either. The 'Orange Box' was a metallic device with several closed ports dotting the machine. The dragon, inspecting the item, discerned a noticeable button as red as his eyes on the very top. Veemon felt an urge to push the damn thing, just to see what would happen. Mischief and curiosity was natural to him, he noted in retrospect.

"'Orange Box'," mimicked Christopher, giving Veemon a stern, disciplinarian glance. The Chosen retracted his slowly-extending hand and scratched the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. "It's supposed to, err," the blond strained to recall, "Help bypass the DSI's Digital Dive System."

"And you know what that means!" Veemon babbled, grinning. "You'll get to see Ken, Iori, Koushirou, and Joe again!"

Veemon knew there was something he was forgetting. Something that Hikari and Tailmon **needed** to know. But aside from the Orange Box, what else was there? And it was on the tip of his tongue, too…

* * *

Things were starting to look up for Hikari Yagami. All was not lost after all, her mind reflected. Not only was Daisuke still alive, somewhere out there, but also there was a clear prospect of seeing old friends alive and well. The news Christopher and Veemon brought with them uplifted the Chosen Child's spirits.

A reunion with fellow Chosen Children. Even better, an opportunity to buttress their dwindling strength with assistance from forces entrenched in the Digital World. (Had Taichi's strategical prowess rubbed off completely on Hikari, the poor girl would've had the foresight to prepare for disappointment, considering the DSI had just initiated an all-out attack on the Digital World. A shame she had forgotten this in her euphoria.) The Child of Light knew this was something she **had** to share with the others!

Besides, Hikari needed to separate Veemon from Christopher. The 21-year-old could envision the third nightmare with near-perfect recall, simply because she had seen it so many times in comparison to the rest of the apocalyptic scenes flooding her sleep. Everything changed when she recognized Christopher Van Numen.

How couldn't it be him? Having assayed the blond man, she knew he wore a silver bracer on his left arm. The golden medallion swaying below his neck had the same, verdant green jewel embedded on it, its tetrahedral shape sparkling gloriously.

She didn't want to ruminate on it any further. Her priority was clear: **separate the two of them!** But how? _I'll figure that out later_, schemed the younger Yagami, unaware Christopher himself was planning the same thing. It was regretful she had little skills when it came to tactical deception. Hikari was, and never will be, that kind of person. She was just… how did Tailmon put it… too kind. Too compassionate. To the point of unstained innocence. Even to this very day.

"That's good." Hikari found herself smiling. It was the first, genuine smile she had made in years. "Wonderful!" The heat rising behind her breasts was contagious, filling her with warmth she thought she had long forgotten: the warmth of joy. "We need to tell the others about this."

"Others?" repeated Veemon inquisitively, his red eyes peering around. "Where? I don't see the entrance anywhere…"

"Oh yeah," the Child of Light recalled. "You've never actually _been_ inside, Veemon, haven't you?" Shutting the lodge's door behind her (feeling a liiiiittle guilty over the damage she inflicted while mourning), the Chosen Child led the pair into the backyard, heading for the well. Hikari pointed at it. "We need to climb down the well," she informed them.

Veemon ran towards the well and peeked in. "I can barely see a thing!" he snapped, forgetting the obvious fact dusk was in its terminal stages.

Christopher was right beside him, inspecting the entrance as well. "There's a ladder over here."

"But it looks slippery!" Veemon complained.

Hikari glared firmly at Christopher. _How am I going to split them up?_ She was wondering, when she felt a familiar tug on her hands. "Hikari?" Tailmon inquired, still concerned for her human half. "Are you alright now?" The Digimon of Light was beaming. Veemon's return, and the news she had obviously overheard from them, infused some joy into her tired soul.

She paused for a moment before replying. "Yes," Hikari nodded, kneeling before the cat. "Thank you, Tailmon." The young lady hugged her digimon partner. "Thank you." Hikari's hug tightened. Unlike Veemon, Tailmon did not squeal like a child, gasping for breath. The feline digimon reciprocated, embracing her human half with her own two paws, just as tight. "I'm sorry I lashed out at you earlier," she apologized softly. "You were trying to be there for me, and all I did was hurt you…"

"It's okay, Hikari." Feline and human stared at each other. Two friends so close they were family to each other. They maintained eye contact as they spoke. "It's okay. But next time," propounded the Digimon of Light, "don't forget me. I'm here for you, Hikari. I'll never leave your side."

"I love you, Tailmon." They hugged once more. Hikari kissed Tailmon's cheek, as the cat did the same to her and replied in kind. "Love you, too." When the emotions coursing through the digimon and her human half dissipitated, Hikari heard Tailmon ask a question. A rather serious question. "Are you scared?"

Hikari blinked, releasing Tailmon from her embrace. "What?"

"Are you scared, Hikari?" Her cerulean eyes darted towards Christopher..The blue dragon found the opaque darkness intimidating, to say the least. It was understandable; one misstep and he'd plunge into the well. Having been to this lodge so many times, Veemon knew for a fact the pool of water it contained within was deep. Very deep. "Of that man?"

Hikari nodded. "It's him, Tailmon. From the third scene."

The Child of Light didn't have to explain any further. Tailmon already had a grasp of the portent the third vision held for the future. Knowing that the Veemon cradled in Christopher's arms was _their _Veemon—Daisuke's partner digimon—changed everything.

"We'll protect Veemon," the white cat murmured. "I won't lose another friend again." Tailmon hurled a look of disgust at Christopher. He was a bad omen, Hikari guessed her thoughts. A horrible one.

"Me neither," concurred Hikari, rising from her spot in the backyard.

"Alright," clapped the girl. "Let's go before it gets too dark for us to see." Hikari beheld her three companions. "Just follow me."

"V-Vee! Hey!"

Veemon had leapt onto Christopher's back, latching on tightly. "I'm not climbing down there!" He insisted. "Nuh, uh."

"I told you, Vee!" he reiterated, seizing the dragon's waist, trying to dislodge him from his back. "Stop clinging. Be a man, dammit! You don't need to ride me!"

Hands and feet on the side ladder, Hikari observed the two. Veemon was being immature and rambunctious. She suppressed the urge to laugh at the funny sight of the blue dragon squirming, evading the blond's grabs. "GAH!" Hikari knew Veemon was playful; he wouldn't be doing something this silly if the situation was one of urgency. He'd be hesitant, maybe. Downright refusing to climb down and rejecting all attempts of persuasion? Never.

She always wondered how Daisuke could live with a digimon like that. When he was still alive, Takeru was very thankful Patamon was a little more mature than the dragon was (note the phrase _"a little more"_). Hikari banished the memory from her thoughts, wiping a stray tear with Takeru's old shirt. Thinking about the Child of Hope always made her cry. _Now's not appropriate!_

"Fine, Vee. Fine!" Christopher exclaimed. He approached the circular opening, a bit frazzled from the trivial struggle with the Digimon of Miracles. Hikari, too, wondered how Chris could tolerate Veemon's puerile antics. It was cute, yes, but definitely exasperating. Chris's superficially disgruntled acquiescence and the gleeful expression on the dragon's snout exemplified the strength of their friendship. It may have been only a week long but she had to admit, the two were tight.

Forcing a severance was going to be next to impossible.

"So are we going down yet?" Chris asked, irked and impatient. The Orange Box had disappeared.

Hikari posed a question, alarmed by its absence. "Where's the Orange Box?"

"It's cool," Chris shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah!" chirped Veemon. "It's just in his Scan—nyargh!"

Chris had squeezed the dragon's foot, which the latter jammed into his vest pocket. "Veemon!" he hissed.

"Murrrrr…"

_Definitely next to impossible._

* * *

The climb down was fairly difficult, even for the blond. Christopher's eyes may have been better than most humans', but in the end, the darkness shrouded most of the nearby surroundings. Veemon's grip on him tightened once they were well enveloped in black, freaked out by the thought of falling into the bottomless pit of freezing wellwater below.

Hikari led all four of them, cautiously descending, her hands and feet moving with alacrity. The Child of Light was clearly acclimated to this entrance. _She must've used it a __**lot**__._ The ladder may be made of steel, but it was embedded into the well's walls, with large gaps in between each step for use as footholds. To prevent implosion, the gaps were supported by steel bars.

Chris found the distance between each rung a little too short for comfort, though he guessed it was done for the monsters' sake. Tailmon was between her partner and Christopher, and the man could easily imagine Tailmon—or Veemon—going up and down. The difficulty was intensified by the presence of moss on the footholds.

He was already about 20 rungs down the well when Chris felt his foot slip on the 21st, causing the blond to lose his balance. "Whoops!" he blurted, beginning to fall.

"WAAAAHH!" The blue dragon shrieked. His clasp tautered. Chris's body suddenly halted in midair, his left arm fully outstretched. The resulting jolt knocked Veemon's feet out of Chris's vest pockets. He reacted by constricting his arms around Chris's neck to the point the blond felt an uncomfortable pressure on his trachea.

Chris reached with his free hand, forcibly took Veemon's from his neck, and held it tightly as he regained his footing and balance. It had been a close one. Still gripping the Chosen's two hands, he rubbed his sore neck using his proximal interphalangeal joints. _That hurt! _

Veemon's increasing strength was becoming more apparent. Last week, the blue dragon could barely hurt him, even if he bit Chris as strong as he could. Before they left for Tokyo, Veemon had matched his agility in the Great Forest and planted a headbutt on his stomach. When they arrived, he did not devolve as he claimed he would. And earlier that day, Veemon chewed on his hand and left visible wounds on it. (They were painless scars now thanks to Chris's natural healing.) Just now, he choked him!

_Maybe it's already too late_, Chris's common sense suggested. _Reconsider your decision_.

_Never! _Rebutted the blond, hardening his resolve. _There's still some time._ It's only been a week, Christopher calmed himself. Only a measly week. _It took several before Sally, Ivan, Joshua, and Milenna experienced the symptoms_.

It should be the same for Veemon, right?

Right?

.

.

.

"Christopher, is it?"

Hikari's high voice reached his ears, echoing in the well.

"Hm?"

"We're close to the last rung," she apprised. Chris was on the 60th rung. Hikari was probably around the 67th. "The last foothold circles the whole wall," she explained. They needed to hang from it with their hands and inch sidewards, until they reached a cavernous space about three feet high. The cave tunnels were present on either side and will start converging once they could discern some lighting.

The water line was an estimated thirty feet below the bottom rung. Hikari went on, "There's a column of stone blocks on the wall in case you fall, but climbing back up's going to be hell." Apparently, each block protruded _slightly_ from the wall **and** they were all covered in slick moss.

"You better not fall," murmured the blue dragon.

"Yeah, yeah," Chris dismissed him. His goldenrod eyes shot up, trying to grasp the distance to the surface. It was hard to see since it was dark, but seeing as how the sky wasn't _that_ pitch black, Chris could surmise a gap of _at least _sixty feet between them. _This is one deep well_, was the only thought on his mind.

"We're going ahead," announced Hikari. "We'll meet up at the junction!"

"'Kay."

Christopher listened to Hikari's grunts and heavy breathing as she clung to the 70th foothold and strafed sidewards. Tailmon followed her. (Or not, since Chris couldn't really see.) After a minute or so, the blond heard Hikari take a deep breath and exert some effort, groaning as she brought herself up to the ledge.

Looks were deceiving. Like Veemon, Hikari's slender arms concealed strength. That girl was quite strong. Chris wondered how she'd fare in a fistfight with the DSI soldiers. "Still there?" called Hikari.

"Yep."

"Remember, just keep going! There's light at the junction. We'll be there!"

Christopher did not reply, listening to her footsteps echo in the cavern, growing softer until they vanished completely. The bottom rung was especially covered in moss. Very slippery, even for _his_ hands. The blond considered just leaping from the ladder to the small hole in the wall. Unfortunately, it was too dark for even him. As for using the Realm Scanner's map? There's a big difference between moving icons and movement in real life.

"Whew," exhaled Chris, slowly dragging Veemon and himself across the chasm. It was difficult. If Christopher put in too much strength in his grip, he could actually slip. "Damn this is tiresome."

"Lucky I'm hitching a ride on you," flatly commented the Chosen.

"Lucky **you**," grumbled Chris. He was comfortable with the feeling of his feet dangling loosely in the air. He was used to it, accustomed to feeling nothing around them but air. The tedious task of keeping the two of them on the last foothold annoyed him to no end. A bleak reminder of being careful with one's grip took place when Chris almost slipped _yet again_, but fortunately, Veemon reached out and sunk his little white claws into the steel-rimmed rock.

The traction wasn't much, but the tight clasp Veemon had on Chris's body helped the blond recover. "Thanks," Christopher muttered, noticing the footdhold was growing in height, and the rocks becoming more uneven and natural as he continued.

After traveling about three more feet in the same direction, Christopher hoisted himself up. The effort was nothing to him. "Some secret entrance," grumbled the blond. He lifted his hand and felt for the ceiling. As Hikari had said, the tunnel was roughly 3.5 feet tall, or a little higher than that.

Chris crawled forward until his boots were the only things dangling in the air. "Alright, Vee, get off. It's high enough for you to walk."

"Okay," mumbled the blue dragon, rising as soon as he got to his feet. He slid a bit; the rock was a bit moist, but otherwise he could work with it.

"You good?"

"Yup."

Christopher himself got to his knees and crawled forward. They didn't have to travel down the tunnel in a line; it was wide enough for the both of them, thankfully. "C'mon," he urged. "Let's go."

If anything, it was only Chris's footsteps and Veemon's heavy ones echoing in the tunnel. Soon it began a leftward curve, towards what was obviously the junction. Where Hikari waited.

"Veemon," accosted the blond. There was something about that girl. Something that bothered him.

There was no reply, though he knew the blue dragon was all ears.

"That girl…"

"Hikari," Veemon supplied.

"Yeah. Hikari."

"What about her?"

"Before the introductions, Hikari seemed to," Chris didn't know how to explain it. "To, uhh, **recognize** me."

"Huh?" Veemon rasped. It sounded like a disbelieving scoff. "No way."

"Seriously," rejoined Chris. "Didn't you see the terror in her eyes when she looked at me?"

"Terror? All **I** saw was _distrust_."

Chris was skeptical. "Distrust?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Veemon, changing the subject in an instant. "I hate it," he admitted to the blond. "Everyone treats you like some liability! Like you're not worth trusting! Let's see… we have Commandramon, Leomon, Stingmon, Centarumon, Ken, and now Hikari!" Chris could imagine his fingers shooting up with every name. "Even Tina gave you 'that look'…"

"Maybe it's because they're right?" proposed the blond. If he had to get Veemon to leave, the first thing to do was undermine the dragon's trust in him. It hurt to slander his own image, but Chris thought it had to be done. _Before it's too late._ "It's a mistake to trust me, Vee."

"NO!" Veemon's tone was one of obduracy. "Don't do that to yourself, Chris! You **are** trustworthy. I **know** it."

"You just misplaced your trust," the blond uttered.

Veemon was tenacious! "Then why help me when we first met, Christopher? Why protect me from the Modifiers? Why watch over me after the Midnight Assault?" The dragon bombarded him with so many questions, shooting before a response could be formed for even one of them. "Why bring me around Tokyo yesterday? Why tell me about Sally? About yourself? Why did you trek so slowly to the lodge?"

The blond mumbled, "I'm only using you."

"No you're not." Veemon was thoroughly convinced.

"But!" Christopher's voice faded away. He… couldn't find any other rebuttal. No answers. Not a single defense could be found and used against even one of those questions.

"_You're just scared_," echoed the voice of Sally Xyphard.

The voice of his own conscience returned, augmented by the guilty feeling rising in his chest. _"Maybe it's already too late. Reconsider your decision."_

"_You're just scared."_

Christopher banished the stray ruminations. He steeled himself, resolute in the decision he was about to make. Yes, he reiterated in his head, the moment he received information on R&D, he'd invade the place. Kill every single person he comes across. Recover the 3rd Realmstone Fragment. Destroy all traces of æther technology. Then move on to the next world.

He had no obligation to this universe. Nothing at all.

"_Your teamwork during the Midnight Assault and the way you two just, clicked, speak otherwise,"_ reverberated the words spoken by the Digimon of Kindness. Ken's reinforcement accompanied them. _"You and Veemon aren't partners by destiny. You're partners by __**circumstance**__._"

Chris wasn't bound by obligations! Hell no! He and Veemon weren't friends. They were just acquaintances. That's all. _THAT'S ALL!_ Chris concluded, shutting out all the voices clamoring otherwise.

The blond felt Veemon pat him on the back. Chris almost jolted from shock, having completely forgotten he was with the blue dragon. "See?" said Veemon, who probably wore a smug grin on his face. "You can't fool me, Chris. You can't." The Chosen chuckled.

Veemon was probably thinking he cheered up his friend. In reality, he only aggravated the feeling of guilt. "By the way."

"W… What?"

"I remember we had another message for Hikari," he verbalized. "But I don't… really remember. It **was** an urgent one. That I _do_ know…"

"Sorry," apologized Christopher. "I don't remember either."

"Awww," Veemon's voice trailed. His ears drooped.

He had no idea Chris just lied. Veemon was alluding to Taichi Yagami's status in M&A. Chris didn't bother reminding the blue dragon, whose disappointment led him to forget it. His impeccable recall, however, ensured it would take only one word to jog his memory. One word, and he knew Veemon would try dragging him into a rescue mission of some sort. As much as he would like lending his friend a hand, the fact is, Chris couldn't afford wasting more time; he had a mission to accomplish.

The next turn revealed a faint light illuminating the cavern ahead. Chris just noticed the tunnel was getting wider, higher. In a few more meters , he could start standing! An excited Veemon, bounded past him, leaving him behind. "TAILMON!" he yelled. "HIKARI! WE'RE HERE!"

When Chris could finally stand uncumbered by the rocky ceiling, he basked in the tungsten glow of a lightbulb illuminating the passageway. Hikari and Tailmon sat on a slab of rock wide and stable enough to be used as a bench.

"Did you guys have trouble?" posed Tailmon, her soft voice replete with concern. "You took a little long."

"Chris and I had a little chat," the dragon reported. "No biggie," he dismissed, waving his hand reminiscent of a jedi mind trick and shaking his head. "Soooooooooo what now?"

Hikari rose from the bench and stretched her arms. "Follow me," she spoke, leading Chris and Veemon deeper into the tunnel. If there was something Christopher noticed, it was the downward slope. They were descending, deeper and deeper. The rocks were still wet with moisture, the water from above trickling down to the aquifers below.

In addition, the tunnels were getting wider. After five minutes of walking, the rock was relatively smooth, making the cavern walls quite slippery. An SUV could easily fit inside. "How old is this place?" Christopher asked, compelled by a curiosity not unlike the blue dragon's own.

"A little less than three years," replied the Child of Light, deftly making her way through the widening cave.

"How large's the tunnel network?"

"Very. It's all over the eastern side of Mt. Fuji."

Veemon couldn't help but be impressed. He whistled. "Wow. All that in less than three years? How'd you—

"—build it that fast?" suddenly interrupted Christopher. It was obvious he and Veemon were running on the same wavelength. Chris noticed the Digimon of Miracles was staring at him the moment he finished his question.

"I don't have all the details," responded Hikari, "but I _know_the digimon were a big help, especially Digmon and a few Drimogemon."

"Digmon?" reiterated Veemon. "You mean Iori's—

"That's right," Tailmon concurred. "Every contact we had in Japan gave their support."

"Too bad I missed the construction," murmured the blue dragon.

Tailmon consoled, "You didn't miss much, Veemon. It was hard work. Daisuke kept on wishing you were there to help."

Chris observed the dragon's difficulty in forcing a smile. "He did, huh?" he murmured.

The tunnel branched into two separate paths. To the left was an ascending tunnel, which Chris hypothesized to be another secret entrance. "Not really," corrected Hikari, acting as their ad hoc tour guide. The outer edges of the network, closest to the surface, were in reality massive atriums, so spacious each could fit several Adult and Perfect digimon. Entrances to these weren't as noticeable, though they "could be used as potential ambush points," Tailmon added.

The Digidestined often used these areas to train their digimon, pitting one against the other, provided the attacks used weren't explosive enough to warran t the attention of nearby DSI bases. "We don't have a choice. The inner areas of the network are so deep one mishap could just cause the entire base to implode, and bury us alive."

Indeed, there was a well-grounded reason why the Digital Suppression Initiative considered digimon as living weapons of mass destruction.

The group of four veered right, where the lights were not only brighter, but also where multiple pathways could be seen. "Some lead to the geothermal generators," explained Hikari, automatically revealing the source of the Digidestined's electricity. "And others lead to small pockets used as an armory or storage."

They were encountering people now. Many of them were refugees, virtually excommunicated from human society by the DSI's quarterly publications. Some had been driven away from their homes for the sole reason of 'sympathizing with demons'. "Digimon with free will and reason are still considered demons by a majority of the populace," the white cat supplied, the words sapping the happy emotions that once filled her voice.

"Demons?" a middle-aged man jeered. He seemed to be in his early thirties. "**Please**, Tailmon. These days, it's all about terrorism. Weapons of mass destruction."

Christopher eyed his olive-green blazer, worn so casually on top of white long-sleeves it was as if this man subconsciously clung to the past, a time when he was a proud, Japanese citizen, not a refugee discriminated against by his fellow nationals for nothing more but a divergence in beliefs.

At least, that's what Chris would've assumed if his goldenrod eyes passed over the AK-47 slung over his shoulder without a single insight of acknowledgement.

"So who're the tourists?" he accosted Hikari, adjusting a pair of rectangular spectacles as he sent a fleeting glance at Christopher and Veemon. Happy eyes were directed into Hikari's red orange. "Fresh newbs?"

Before the Child of Light could provide a rejoinder, the man stepped past her and Tailmon, peering at the blond before looking down at the blue dragon standing beside Chris at a solid height of three feet: as tall as his own waist. Christopher's perfect 20/20 vision allowed perception of the man's black eyes, which dilated upon recognizing the blue dragon. "Whoa, it's a Veemon!" He stroked his chin. "I haven't seen a Veemon since"—his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought—"hmm, I **know** it was before I moved in here three years ago…"

"Since the Shinjuku protests, right?" Veemon offered him, speaking up suddenly.

Those words jump-started the man's head. "Yes!" he exclaimed, striking an open palm with the bottom of his fist. "That's right! Since the Shinjuku pro"—his voice slowed down.—"tests…" it faded entirely. "Waaiiit a minute…"

He paled, rotated, and took a few steps towards Hikari. "Is he who I think it is?"

Veemon was snickering at the sight, barely keeping his eyes open.

Christopher then took notice of the man's sleek, black hair. Short. Properly groomed. Combined with very healthy skin, it was surprising this man had been here for almost three years. "And you'd think he'd be just as pale living down here." The sneer rolled off his tongue with nonchalance. Casual. Not intended to be a joke at all.

Veemon overheard Chris's side comment and considered it one. He exploded in a fit of laughter, drawing not only the attention of some bystanders and passersby, but also the embarrassment of the man disrupting their tour.

"Shuu," the dragon panted, regaining his composure. "Since, haha," failing to fully suppress his hilarity, "s-sin-since when was there **another** digimon like me?"

"B-b-but!" He ogled Christopher, gazing at Veemon intermittently.. "It can't be! He's, h-he's dead! He's supposed to be—

"That's what we thought, too," retorted Tailmon. "Believe me, you're not seeing a ghost."

As Hikari filled him in, Chris leaned down, murmuring out of their earshot, "Vee, who's the geek?" he pointed at Shuu, alluding to the man's thick frames.

"Oh, that's just Shuu. You remember Joe, do you? I told you about him."

"Joe?" Christopher wasn't _really_ paying attention to the stories Veemon had given him. All he knew were the basics and the general details, but nothing really specific. Sure, the Digimon of Miracles had told him, but Chris never saw it as worth committing to memory. Still, "Joe Kido, right?" he attempted, having taken a few seconds to recollect the bits and pieces of the story.

Veemon did not notice his brief confusion. A nod was his only reply. "Shuu's his older brother."

"Mhhmmm…" That's when the both of them noticed Hikari was leaving them behind, walking with speed, with a sense of purpose.

"H-hey, Hikari!" called out Veemon, beginning a quick chase. "Wait up!"

Shuu Kido blocked his path immediately. "It's alright, Veemon. Hikari just gave me the heads up on your business here."

"And?" he asked, agitated. Chris couldn't help but smile at the antics… before feeling that annoying pang of guilt once more. He ignored it, watching the scene unfold before him. "And?"

"She's just going to rouse the higher-ups and we'll all meet in the War Room after a couple of hours."

"Higher-ups?" questioned Veemon, a bit startled to learn there was a structure of bureaucracy in the Digidestined.

"I know it sounds a biiit formal," Shuu bit his lip. "But they're just the families of your friends." He sighed. "At least, the ones who moved in years ago."

Veemon beamed. "Hey, does that mean Jun's here?"

"H-huh?"

"You knooww, Jun! Jun Motomiya!" He smiled. Chris saw his tail wag a couple of times. "Daisuke's sister! You two are still together, aren't you?"

He turned red. Shuu scratched his head. "Ehrm, well…"

Then Veemon yelped. "Oh! Where's the nearest toilet?" He chuckled nervously. "Uhhh, I, err, kinda need to go in a liiiiiitttle bit."

"A liiiiiitttle bit" turned out to be _immediately_. The moment Shuu gave Veemon the directions he **sprinted** further down the path. Chris couldn't help but shake his head. The blue dragon had gone off and done his business when they were at the glacis earlier. He himself had to do some "relief work" on the other side of the path, out of each other's sights. But so soon? If it wasn't for his level of maturity in certain situations, it would've been easy for anyone to mistake the Digimon of Miracles as a young, innocent kid.

_The irony, indeed,_ spoke his inner voice. Whether it referred to him or Veemon was ambiguous.

"Whew," he heard Shuu mutter. "I'm so glad," the Child of Reliability's older brother mumbled, thinking his voice well below Chris's—or anyone else's—earshot. It was a big mistake for one to assume Chris was a regular person; one would think the Yagami girl warned him already. "I'm so glad I wouldn't have to tell him…"

"Tell Veemon what?"

Christopher's gaze was set upon the bespectacled adult. The urge to question Shuu on the spot and wring the information from him was overwhelming. This was something the digimon _needed_ to know. Chris would reflect on this several hours later and fail utterly to deduce the reason why he instigated a confrontation for the sake of someone he considered an acquaintance at best.

"Nothing," Shuu tried a dismissal. "None of your business." Chris nearly snorted on the fact the line he always gave others was just returned to him full circle.

Before the blond could retort, Shuu hummed, reconsidering his statement. "On second thought… both of you seem close." Chris watched the elder Kido's eyes dart back and forth, keeping an eye out for Veemon and any potential eavesdropper. "**You** be the one to break the news instead, ayt?"

Chris was silent, his ears attentive.

.

.

.

"Jun hates Veemon."

.

.

The three words startled him. Hate Veemon? Sure, the Chosen was annoying, but someone to _receive_ such strong feelings? Not even Chris could see himself hating the guy.

"I know what that look on your face is saying. Veemon's adorable, yeah," Shuu went on. "But she blames him for what happened to the Motomiya family. Not because he's a digimon, but because he's a _Chosen_.

He laughed, trying to drive a sad choke down his throat. "Jun and I had to break it off eventually, you see. She didn't want anything to do with the 'Chosen Child' stuff after all the discrimination and murder.

Shuu shook his head. "Know what she even told me? 'I'd rather live a normal life than dying like my idiot brother's friends'."

Christopher was bewildered. Why was he telling him all these things? These were personal information. Nobody readily gives these away, especially to a stranger! Clearly Shuu was being driven by an irrational need to speak out, to talk to someone about it.

"She desperately needed me to hang on," the man said. "But I couldn't, can't, and never will, abandon the Digidestined's cause. Yet I had to protect Jun!" His voice faltered for a bit. "Breaking up with her was"—he had trouble finishing the sentence. Shuu had trouble believing it himself—"It was necessary!"

That articulation echoed in the cavern only once, dissipating as it gained distance. To Chris, it repeated in his ears. Over and over again. _"It was necessary!"_

Shuu's words reignited the guilt lying dormant in Chris's chest, amplifying it further when his goldenrod eyes discerned the anguish glazing those deep, black eyes.

"Do you, feel..." Christopher's emotions were slipping out. "G-guil," he stammered, unable to get the word off his tongue so easily. "Guilty, about it?" He bit his lip after, mentally scolding himself for that error.

"Very."

Chris's mouth moved **again**, without his conscious consent. What the hell happened to all the self-restraint he had before coming into this universe? "Do you reg—

"I have no regrets," interrupted Shuu. "It was the right thing to do. I'd rather live with her hatred." The adult stared directly into Christopher's goldenrod eyes. "You know, nobody in this effing mountain ever understood why I feel this way. Not even Hikari."

The frustration was apparent in his voice. "It's really strange but," he paused, regarding Christopher for a couple of seconds. "You look like you can actually relate."

_You have __**no**__ idea._

He tendered his hand. "I'm Shuu. Shuu Kido."

"Christopher Van Numen," replied the blond.

"Take good care of Veemon, okay?"

"Y, y-yeah."

"_It was necessary!"_

Wanting to escape _that _awkward subject as soon as possible, "Hey, would you, happen to know, where Jun lives?"

_There's something wrong with me today_, Chris mentally noted. He wanted to divert the topic away from himself, but why with this question?

"_Maybe it's already too late_," echoed that inner voice. His conscience was starting to get him. _"Reconsider your decision."_

"_You're just scared." _Even Sally snuck her words in. _"Stop running."_

Chris disregarded the growing anxiety filling him, distracting himself by focusing on Shuu's response. "Edogawa Ward, Miakegawa Housing Complex," he stated. "A stone's throw away from Tokyo Disneyland."

His ears perked at the last word. Disneyland. It was another one of his naïve, childhood dreams, one that would never be fulfilled, forever lost to the curse haunting him.

"I wonder," Shuu hummed. "If she found work over there by now. She never seemed the type," he was rambling, "but she's always wanted a job at Disneyland."

"**WHO** wanted a job at Disneyland?"

Veemon returned, perked. One look at his wagging tail and anyone could tell he was bubbling with curiosity. "Just one of his friends," murmured Chris. His goldenrod eyes peeked at Shuu; the man had a forlorn stare fixed on the blue dragon. "We were talking while you were out doing… your thing."

He smirked. "I can see that." Veemon's crimson eyes looked up at Shuu, ignorant—if not dense—of the pitiful look he was being given. Then again, Joe's older brother evaded eye contact. Chris wasn't surprised. To a trained analyst, the eyes often betrayed the poker faces people often wore in the real world. "So, Shuu, is Jun—

"She's not here, Vee," Chris answered for Shuu. "I asked him about it but it looks like he hasn't heard from her for three years."

Veemon's ears flopped, making his disappointment ostensible. First, Daisuke, and now, his own sister? When was he going to meet his family again? Chris guessed these were the thoughts running through his head. Based on these reactions alone, neither he nor Shuu could reveal the hard truth: the Motomiya family abhorred Veemon.

"Do you at least know where she lives?"

"I," Shuu decided to answer the question. The man's black eyes made eye contact with Christopher's goldenrod. They nodded at each other, making an agreement the Digimon of Miracles wasn't aware of. "I'm sorry," he finally spat. "I don't. We broke up years ago." Shuu was quick to add he didn't want to talk about it.

"I understand." Veemon at least remained cordial.

"Anyway," Chris said, wanting to move on from awkward subjects. "We've got about two hours to kill. What do we do?"

Shuu stroked his chin. "Well…"

"Ooohh!" ejaculated Veemon. "How 'bout a tour? This place must be huge!" Chris chuckled at his comments. The cavern walls were as large as those Tyranomon he once saw at the Great Forest base. How enormous was the volume controlled by the tunnel network?

Shuu Kido saw this as a way to pass the time and, better yet, floor future conversations at an impersonal level. "Sure, why not?" The middle-aged adult grinned. "Hope you're up for it, though. If you want to clear this place in two hours we must move fast."

Veemon's grin was even wider. "In that case…"

The Chosen gyrated, turning towards Christopher. "No!" He blanched when he saw the glint in those crimson orbs. "No! Hell no!" he spat. "Veemon, I am not an effing horse you can just ri—

"Too late!" Veemon was already in midair, clinging to his chest as he landed from his pounce. "BEH!" he stuck his tongue out before swinging over to his back. Just to play around, he slammed the sides of his three-toed feet on Chris's side. "Giddyap!"

"YAH!" Veemon shrieked. Shuu couldn't resist laughing at the sight when the Chosen did it **again**. "Giddyap, horsie!"

Chris facepalmed from the embarrassment. "…Goddammit."

"Veemon, you need a saddle?" Shuu chortled, fueling the dragon's hilarity.

"Let's just go." An irritated tone.

"Nope!" the dragon answered Shuu. Gleefully. "But a seatbelt would be nice!" Veemon giggled, patting the blond's other shoulder. "Can't have horsie here throwing me off his back."

Chris's eye twitched. Licking he could tolerate. Encourage it on occasion, even. But this? This humiliation? Enduring it without lifting a single finger of protest? Chris glanced at the dragon's snout plopped right on his shoulder. Murderous thoughts began swirling when he saw the idiotic grin. _I should kill you for that._

It was **always** during such moments like this when Chris wondered why he actually tolerated these silly frolics, even when they completely pissed him off.

* * *

The organizational structure of the Digidestined was a simple one. It began with the Twelve. This hierarchy flowed downstream to the nearest connection: their families. From then on, it would be their closest friends. This was true in Japan **and** in other countries.

Rarely was a stranger bearing zero affiliation with the any of the Chosen Children or their relations—family, close friend, or otherwise—accepted into the core group without enormous deliberation by others.

Rika Nonaka was one such example. The girl was completely alone, one of the people Taichi had brought in during a citywide operation involving the DSI and what was then a new policy: to arrest "Wild Ones" (read: liberated digimon under a tamer's command) and, to use a politically-correct word that ridiculed these monsters' partners, _tame_ them.

Hikari Yagami already knew who to invite. After all, it was only Ken's, Koushirou's, Joe's, Iori's, and Miyako's relatives living inside the subterranean stronghold. The others were either dead or in hiding, beyond the reach of any Digidestined, probably living under completely different identities. The latter scenario wasn't hard to believe after all. Hikari could recall her elder brother handing out money to his "network" to facilitate the identity switch of their parents.

After leaving Shuu Kido with Christopher and Veemon, Hikari went to a tunnel that went deeper into the body of the mountain, though it ascended unlike the other tunnels in the base. Hikari kept moving, climbing over large boulders and slippery rocks towards a three-storey building. Several wires can be seen jutting out from the building, descending towards tunnels that were sure to lead one to multiple geothermal-based generators.

"Still as drab as ever," Tailmon frankly noted while casting a glance on the cobalt blue structure. It was lit up by tungsten-colored lights installed all around it, the intensity of their collective output rather dim compared to the rest of the tunnels. Koushirou Izumi provided the computer code necessary to give these lights a behavioral pattern matching the day-night cycle on the surface. Luckily there was no such thing as Daylight Savings in Japan.

The Child of Light entered the enormous chamber and passed by a steel plate welded to a pillar. The pillar had machinery inside, drawing water from the aquifer deep below the tunnel network. It bore the words "CORE GROUP". "And I'm home," she murmured, stepping before the green door next to it. This was one of the buildings used as living quarters by the Digidestined, reserved solely for people in the core group. There were two other structures in the tunnel network, reserved for refugees and combatants, respectively.

"_Taichi, why do we have buildings in here?" _Hikari remembered questioning her older brother. _"Isn't it… pointless?"_

"_Koushirou would tell you it'd be more efficient this way." The Chosen Child of Courage gave his answer matter-of-factly. "But personally, Hikari, I think it's because it reminds us of the way we used to live. Topside."_

Taichi's response was true. Most people in Japan lived in apartments. Few were prosperous enough to possess houses of their own. Unlike the United States, real estate inventory on the industry level was scarce. Land was practically guaranteed to rise in value, given a generation or two. Fortunately Japan didn't have it as bad as the Philippines. That Southeast Asian country was not only smaller than Japan, but it was heavily fragmented—at least 7,000 islands.

Apartment complexes and even condominiums were abundant in this country. Some people even said, "The sky's the limit!"

"Hikari," spoke Tailmon, "why didn't you tell Shuu about _that man_?" The albino feline never referred to Christopher by his name. Doing that could lead to him becoming a friend. They couldn't afford befriending such a dangerous person.

"Because it's not right," murmured Hikari. She only had her visions to work with, she reasoned. Nothing tangible. "Nobody's going to believe me if I told them the truth, Tailmon." Taichi's reaction may have been a little too extreme, but Hikari in her heart knew Shuu, or any other logical person, would've treated her similarly with only those bases to work with.

She clutched Takeru's shirt, staring at the golden bracelet on her wrist. If only either of them were here! Her beloved would undoubtedly find something to appeal to their logic. Her best friend would express his utmost faith in Hikari to the point even people characterized by reason would be compelled to accede.

Her digital half protested. "But Hikari! If we don't, Veemon will—

"Yes, Tailmon," she acknowledged. Hikari bent down and lifted the cat from the ground, hugging her. "I know. That's why we have to break them up on our own." She took out a small card and placed it next to a machine installed on the door knob. One second was all it took to elicit a shrill "beep" from it. Hikari's ears caught the sound of lock turning. With that, she clutched the stiff handle and pulled the door open.

Located on the first level were amenities generally enjoyed by the building's occupants. Hikari passed a shut door to the training room, a vast space occupying half of the first floor's area, used for physical training. She remembered lifting weights and gaining strength during her first few months here, when Tailmon began teaching her how to fight hand-to-hand for purposes of self-defense.

She passed by a small cafeteria—used as a kitchen by the Inoue family, and a food haven for the occupants. This was not her interest. Hikari trotted towards a stairwell in the very middle of the floor, taking it directly to the second level.

"Who's first on the list?" the Digimon of Light spoke from Hikari's bosom.

"Iori's grandfather."

* * *

"Hey, horsie!" Veemon squealed.

"It's starting to get old, Vee," he heard Christopher murmur. A hint of ire in his voice betrayed the overall dismissive tone of this sentence.

"Hehe," the blue dragon snickered. "I don't think so." While Shuu led them to a chamber filled with multiple passageways, thinking the elder Kido was out of earshot he whispered into Chris's ear. "You know, the toilets here were disgusting!"

"Huh?" came his dull rasp. He sounded like he didn't care; Veemon knew he was listening, anyway. At least, he thought he was.

"Can you imagine?" The blue dragon traced a circular shape in the air and emphasized a certain spot in the corner. "It's just a deep hole with a wooden box on top."

"You call it an 'outhouse', Vee."

The Chosen ignored him. "_Whatever_ you call it, the smell's damn horrid. They closed the small room off with thick cloth, but man, the moment you pull it aside, a sickening odor just—

"Shut up!" Chris hissed. "It's disgusting."

"Eeeeehhhhhh!" Without even leaving the warmth and safety of the vest pockets, Veemon's feet hammered Chris's sides.

"AGH—OW!" Chris jolted upwards from the sudden strike. Unfortunately a precariously low stalactite was in his path. He rubbed his head. "That smarts…"

"Hihi," laughed the digimon. _His _large head missed the rock completely thanks to the fact the tip of the stalactite was far thinner than its base. "You're one jumpy horse, Chris."

The blond growled. "Veemon, you're beginning to piss me off."

"I know," he admitted. "Can I help it? It's fun." Veemon grinned and he knew for a fact Christopher was already imagining it. To add insult to injury, a low grumble shot out the blue dragon's mouth, one that sounded like a horse's "P-b-b-b-b-b."

Before he knew what was happening, Veemon felt Christopher insert his index fingers in his mouth. "That's it!" he exclaimed. Steering clear of the dragon's sharp teeth, Chris seized the insides of his cheeks and pulled them 'til it hurt.

Veemon shuddered. "Eeyowch!" He snarled and mimicked the blond. "Two can play at that game, you!"

They were at it for about fifteen seconds when Shuu decided to be "a mature adult". A crisp "Tsst!" slithered out his lips. "What's the point of a tour if you're not even listening?"

"Sorry," Veemon sheepishly apologized. He knew this was slip-up was _his_ fault at the very least. He wasn't _that _contrite about it though; stuff like this came with being playful.

Respect and attention was all Shuu wanted anyway. The moment the black-haired adult saw that, he straightened his blazer. "This here's one of the many intersections in the tunnel network." The elder Kido pointed at the steel plates above several open tunnels. "You can see where they'll lead from there. Many of the tunnels lead to the same place, so there's **more than one way **of getting somewhere."

And he was right. To Veemon's right was a path about ten feet high. A pair of crimson eyes glanced at the steel plate, informing its owner the tunnel led to the "Core Group House" and the "War Room". There were other details there, such as toilets—scratch that—_outhouses_ and generators; these inscriptions were engraved in smaller fonts. A wizened person would've squinted to decipher it.

"So Hikari went this way?" queried the Chosen.

Shuu nodded. "Yup. We'll be visiting the place when we're done with the rest."

Christopher had beaten Veemon to the succeeding question. "So, where to?"

"We'll be going to the clinic first."He pointed at a tunnel to the far left. The entrance wasn't that tall. "It's the only place you can access from any location in the network, aside from the memorials."

Veemon's interest was piqued. "The memorials?"

Shuu did not entertain his question. "You'll see," he said.

* * *

Renamon's eyes shot open. Her piercing blue eyes took in the uneven texture of the ceiling fifteen to twenty feet above her. The yellow fox stirred, feeling something light, fluffy, and warm covering her body from the chest down.

She bent her head and saw the white blanket draped across her body. The yellow fox sat up, recollecting her bearings. _Where am I? The last thing I remember was…_

.

.

.

_An exhausted Kyuubimon escorted her tamer out the building, fleeing from the black creatures pursuing them. Never had she encountered a monster so strong. An intuition known only to women, far superior to the "gut feeling" felt by men, kept insisting these… t-these __**things**__ were not digimon. They were not from the Digital World, but beyond it._

_The nine-tailed kitsune had long lost the candy cane rope on her neck, torn off from a vicious struggle with one of those things. Rika Nonaka experimented on her approach to fighting them. It was almost suicide to attack something with unorthodox methods, but what choice did they have then, when even an Adult digimon already had trouble with one? It was only fortunate the third attempt proved successful: those things were weak from within._

_Their destruction gave away their true nature. Organisms borne from the Real World would drop dead and leave a body. Digimon disperse into data. These things… when they died, they simply vanished, leaving a fading, black mist in their wake. A clear indication of their alien origin, if not already apparent in their near-invulnerability. Their superior endurance, agility, and strength. _

_The more they destroyed, the more apparated into the lobby to replace the fallen. Rika had already reached her limits, and Kyuubimon had precious seconds to seize her tamer, sling her on her back, and escape the building. It was worse outside. Far worse._

_Many more of these reptilian abominations surrounded the building, mouths drooling with a mindless thirst for blood. Large, humanoid figures lumbered behind them, their figures obscured by shadows created by the full moon. Kyuubimon did __**not**__ want to engage them directly; it would be certain death. Her tamer obviously did not have it in her to push her digital half to the Perfect level, even if she tried._

_Indeed._

_Flight was the best option._

.

.

_It was the only option._

_Out of concern for the innocents living around the DSI's coveted perimeter, Kyuubimon dashed madly for the nearest manhole while the monsters gave heavy pursuit. With one attack she destroyed it, moving underground._

_It had been a ferocious struggle to live. Many times the monsters cut her off, and many times she had to fight her way through them, all without letting a single strike touch the incapacitated Rika on her back. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, never ceasing until she finally noticed the monsters had vanished, discarding their prey so suddenly, Kyuubimon waited for a sign of life. The wait was long. Only when she devolved back to Renamon did the yellow fox sling Rika on her back and climb up the nearest exit. They emerged in Shibuya, next to a seedy-looking motel._

_Nobody had seen them rise from the sewers. Renamon's sharp nose detected the fresh scent of a digimon in these parts; faint wafts of which were descending from one of the units of the motel. Emitted with it was a sense of foreboding, enshrouded in emotions equivalent to rage and deep grief._

_This was none of her concern. Renamon's piercing eyes rolled towards the tamer's face, resting on her fluffy shoulder, on her soft, yellow raised her paw, strapping her purple gauntlet on her tamer's body, keeping the woman secure. Safe. Bloodied and bruised, Renamon went straight for the rooftops, dashing westward, hoping to reach the underground stronghold before succumbing to her injuries. _

.

.

.

She could barely remember if she had actually made it to Mt. Fuji or not. Renamon had been aiming for the lodge, knowing for a fact someone was bound to find them eventually. That the fox now found herself enclosed by the familiar walls of the clinic soothed her anxiety completely. "I did it," Renamon congratulated herself. "We're safe."

She veered towards the sound of halcyon breathing, coming from the adjacent bed on the right. Rika Nonaka was peaceful in her sleep. Renamon's snout curled into a slight smile as she lifted the sheets off her own body, strolling towards her human half for a quick pet, a quick stroke of those soft, fleshy cheeks.

Only then did her eyes see the bandages on her entire body, her nerves invoking a subtle claustrophobia from the constriction produced by the sheer tightness of their application. Her tamer wasn't spared from this. Whoever treated her took off her combat vest and stripped her off her weapons. Glancing down, she saw they had been placed under the bed, just in case the lady needed it when she woke up—Rika was autonomously strict on carrying weaponry. "You never know when an emergency will happen," she once declared to the core group. "We must always be prepared for the day the DSI discovers the network."

Her logic was sound. After all, the DSI had forward bases set up all around the mountain. On top of that, Mitsuo Yamaki himself led the search. Virtually no person could ever hope to match the passion and zeal the Vice-Chairman had for his organization.

Renamon's long ears twitched. Voices were approaching. The curtain separating the clinic from the rest of the base rustled. From the direction of the sound, she knew the recent arrivals came from the direction of either the lodge or the leadership's area.

"—inic." It was Shuu. "We haven't gotten around to developing this place yet," Renamon discerned his words. They were faint, but it sounded like he was giving some people a tour. _New recruits?_ "Improvements and new equipment generally cost a lot of money, and we've got too much relegated to supplies and procuring new equip"—he finally swung his head towards the clinic, seeing Renamon standing by Rika's bedside.—"OH! Hi, Renamon! You're finally awake."

She did not answer. Taking this as a reply, Shuu stepped towards her, deftly finding his way past the beds. "Since when?"

Renamon stretched her neck. She felt something crack when she titled it leftward. It felt **good**. "Just now," she said. The yellow fox still felt a little weak, but her condition was far better compared to last night. "How's Rika?" she dared to ask. Shuu Kido was no doctor, but the very least his relationship with Joe begot was some basic medical knowledge and impeccable skills with first aid.

"She's going to be fine." Renamon found his calm voice reassuring. "Ayumi took care of you two after you were brought here." Ayumi Ichijouji: Ken's mother. She had been a well-known doctor in the past, at least before society decided she was not fit to be part of it, purely by her association with the Chosen Child alone. As part of the Digidestined, she was responsible for the field medics and for training refugees who wanted to contribute to their hidden society.

"Who found us?" the yellow fox queried, curious as to whom she and Rika owed their lives to.

Shuu cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "You don't remember?" he asked.

The kitsune shook her head, prompting the elder Kido to narrate. "You collapsed right in front of Tailmon, muttering about"—before Shuu could continue, Renamon's nose identified two scents permeating the air around them, coming from the tunnel used by Joe's brother.

Renamon's nose could describe one as a combination of new leather and petrichor—"rain on dry earth", as romantics would coin. It was wholly distinct. Pleasant to take in. The other made the yellow fox twitch. Recoil. The briny smell of the ocean would've been acceptable, if not addicting, had not the odor of blood overwhelmed it to the point it was barely distinguishable.

Her unnatural, cerulean eyes pointed straight at the tunnel, witnessing a tall figure coming in, following Shuu's entry. It was a blond man, his back ridden by a blue dragon.

"Oh yeah," Shuu spoke, remembering the pair tagging along with him. "That's Christopher and Veemon," he introduced.

Renamon did not hear him. The fox had focused on the two. She had expected the digimon—_Veemon, was it?_—to possess the odor of blood. There would've been a natural explanation for it. Instead, the disturbing scent belonged to the blond. Sounding off more alarm bells in her head was the very nature of Christopher himself.

Her eyes narrowed, inspecting the blond's clothing and equipment from such a short distance. Something about him was strange. Aberrant. Out of place. It reminded her of danger. It reminded her of the vicious monsters she faced while running for dear life with Rika on her back. Renamon would've summoned the crystal _Koyosetsu_ shards and hurled them at the blond if it wasn't for Veemon instantly seizing the yellow fox's attention by waving his hand and grinning. "Hi, I'm Veemon!"

"Renamon," she spoke nonchalantly. She watched the blue dragon lift his feet and slam them on the blond's sides furiously, prodding him until he moved forward, straight towards Renamon herself. It would've been a **very** amusing sight to see if she hadn't been so transfixed on the powerful, intimidating rage glazing the man's goldenrod eyes. Before she knew it, the blue dragon was eye to eye with her. (Luckily for him, Christopher was taller than average.) His crimson eyes brimming with happiness, she felt Veemon take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," he said.

The blond he was riding had been fairly humiliated by this. Renamon could see it from his quivering fists. Chris's eyes were informing her he wanted nothing more but beating the dragonic rider until he no longer breathed. The smell of blood overwhelming her acute sense of smell, Renamon expected him to snap, not to let his anger go.

Chris did nothing of the sort and sighed. The tension he emitted laxed. The yellow fox glimpsed Veemon's tail swaying happily. (From another angle, the man would've looked like he had one himself.)

This relieved Renamon. If this dangerous stranger could tolerate a digimon as annoying as Veemon, then he's not _all_ bad. "Quite a handful, isn't he?" she couldn't contain her bemused smirk any longer.

"You said it," Chris replied, a bit disgruntled still from the embarrassment he had to deal with.

Shame did not dare grace Veemon's innocent, childish voice when he invited himself in. "You don't really mind, do you?"

Grinning, the blond scratched the back of his head, his index finger twirling one of Veemon's conical ears. "Does this answer your question, Vee?"

The blue dragon enjoyed the attention (and affection) he was being given, to the point he shut his eyes and basked in it, cooing. "Aaaaaahhhhhhh…" Renamon had no idea how good it must've been to induce a satisfied moan from Veemon.

This scene sparked some jealousy in her. Rika was not, and never will be, the affectionate type. The best she ever received from her was what? A hug? An affectionate kiss on the forehead and cheeks? _Hmm_. She imagined her tamer massaging her. Renamon made a mental note to have Rika give her "some love" when she woke up.

"Honestly, I find it _extremely _vexing at times," the blond verbalized, addressing Renamon's query. An exposition. "But… in hindsight, it's what I like about him."

Renamon's white-tipped ears twitched. She didn't like the tone in his voice. Even when he grinned as he massaged the dragon's head, Renamon posited the smirk was actually _forced_. She did not know if Veemon had the capacity (or the sobriety, rather) to discern it, but the articulations of this "Christopher" carried heavy weight. Something was terribly wrong.

_Nothing his digimon partner can't allay,_ thought Renamon.

Now that she was up close and personal, the yellow fox assessed him for the second time. Her opinion of Chris did not change a bit. Instead, this second scrutiny _reinforced_ it. Her eyes centered on the silver bracer attached to his left forearm like a second skin, the blue gemstone on its base ominous in design.

Renamon's gaze went up to the ashen staff poking out his right side. Its composition resembled wood, but from the looks of it, the weapon was made of a completely unknown material. She felt peculiar when her glance was cast upon it, as if her eyes wanted to divert its attention from the weapon as quickly as possible. The staff emanated an unreal aura, noticeable only to those who would bother scrutinizing it.

_What, __**is**__, that?_ She ruminated, her blue eyes descending instead to the golden medallion, unable to look directly at it any longer. The verdant greem jewel embedded in it allured her, reeling the fox in with a glorious sparkle no gem on earth could possibly possess.

Renamon only realized she had been staring when she her fur registered a fibrous texture grazing her snout. _H-huh?_ She blinked, realizing Veemon tapped her, giving her a light slap on the cheek. "You okay, Renamon?" Concern colored his question. "You were spacing out."

"It's nothing, Veemon," she coughed, gathering herself. "Sorry." Renamon may have found Veemon's blond partner enigmatic, but that was certainly no reason for her to discard proper etiquette. "Also," Renamon dismissed her gaucherie. "I don't recall seeing you before." Flatly, "You guys new recruits?"

If these two were such, no doubt she'd soon see firsthand what this stranger was capable of, and better yet, **why** his possessions were making her feel uneasy. "I'm glad to see we got another tamer in our ranks." Renamon admitted, returning to her 'serious attitude'. It was something she shared with Rika, after all. She confronted Chris. "What evolutions are you and Veemon capable of?"

The blond grimaced; the dragon sent her an odd look. She tilted her head, puzzled. _What? Did I say something wrong?_

Shuu Kido shattered her preconceptions. "Renamon, it's hard to believe." He pushed his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose. "But Christopher and Veemon are **NOT** tamer and partner, if that's what you're thinking."

This was startling. "They're, they're not? T-then—

"They're here for business."

Renamon went on, barely registering the last sentence. "—who are—business? Shuu, w-what are you—

Crimson, goldenrod, and sapphire eyes were trained on the only other human adult standing in this room. "Veemon here is one of the Twelve: partnered to Daisuke Motomiya."

She stammered, "The Child of Miracles?" _That's impossible!_ "He's, he's dead!" _Since the war began!_

"Do we have to go through this scene **again**?" Veemon whined. "I thought we were done already."

Renamon ignored his complaints. Like it or not, the Digimon of Miracles would certainly have to deal with this scene _once more_ when he would be formally assimilated into the ranks of the Digidestined. Her attention was now on the man he rode. "Then," she gestured Christopher. "If you're not Veemon's human half, who are—

"Veemon's just tagging along with me at the moment," Christopher decided to answer. "**I'm** here for something else."

Shuu filled her in: the blond was carrying something that would reconnect the Digidestined to their allies in the Digital World. "If what he says is true, whatever it is, once it's installed, we'll be able to bypass the DSI's Digital Dive System entirely."

Renamon couldn't utter a single word in reply. The information was still jumbled in her head. Too much to take in, just after waking up. Before Operation: Pyramid, the Digidestined's morale was falling drastically as time turned them into nothing more but people in hiding, exiled from their own nation for nothing more but a divergence in beliefs. When the operation failed, the death of Taichi Yagami accompanying it, any traces of optimism and hope was dashed to the ground. Crushed by bitter defeat. By reality iself.

Only a day has passed since this miserable failure and now the Digidestined had something to look forward to! A Chosen Child long thought dead was actually alive. Furthermore, the possibility of reinforcements from the Digital World itself existed! It was perfect.

Too perfect.

The timing of Christopher and Veemon's arrival were none but providential!

_Surely the Harmonious Ones played a role in this act of destiny_, speculated Renamon.

Shuu's black pools gazed into her sapphire orbs. "Renamon," he drew her attention. "Hikari's gathering the core group as we speak. We'll be meeting with them at the War Room after," his voice trailed. Checking his watch, "Uhh, after—

"—after an hour and thirty minutes," Chris interjected suddenly, earning wide stares from Shuu and Veemon alike. "What?" he shrugged. "I've been counting."

Veemon chided, "Chris, you freak me out sometimes…"

Suppressing a chuckle, Shuu continued his request. "I'd like you to go on ahead and wait for us there. You'll represent Rika." He smiled. "Besides, seeing you up and about will definitely relieve Tailmon. She's been worried about you, you know."

Shuu nodded at Chris and pointed at one of the tunnels ahead. Renamon knew it led to the living quarters of both the combatants and the refugees. The blond complied and went ahead, intending to wait for the elder Kido beyond the curtain. "Bye!" the Digimon of Miracles verbalized, waving back at her. A farewell gesture she found herself reciprocating. _His amity is contagious._

Shuu started following them out. "Might as well make sense of what's happening while you're en route," he advised. "I have a feeling things will become intense from hereon out." Renamon observed the adult stroke Rika's face thoughtfully as he left the clinic.

"You got it," the yellow fox acknowledged, sauntering to the tunnel they originated from, sparing a second's glance at her tamer's sleeping form.

_Hope you get well soon, Rika._

* * *

The tour had been a long one. Exhaustion was apparent in Shuu's efforts to move, which had slackened as his body demanded more rest. Christopher, on the other hand, just kept on going, moving at the elder Kido's slower pace. The novelty of his inhuman endurance and stamina had yet to grow stale for the blue dragon.

Riding on Christopher proved to be a solid choice on Veemon's part. The Chosen was starting to feel the pangs of hunger, and certainly, had he bothered climbing down the secret entrance behind the lodge **and** spelunking the tunnels with Shuu in front, he would've been thoroughly exhausted.

There were several **buildings** within the network's gargantuan chambers, each acting as living quarters for its occupants. Veemon expected spacious rooms scattered throughout the tunnels, stratified into zones according to class: refugees, reserve combatants, and the core group. That he was greeted with mid-rise condominiums plugged with ventilation shafts, wires, and other auxiliary equipment was a testament to the fragility of expectations.

Shuu emerged from the green door of the refugees' building, holding up six pieces of onigiri in his hands: rice balls packed with meat, sprinkled with salt, and wrapped in dried seaweed. Christopher, waiting for him in the capacious cavern housing the structure, was handed four balls. A couple was immediately snatched by Veemon, who promptly popped one in his mouth. "Mmm, beef teriyaki…"

"Succulent," he heard Chris comment. Veemon was glad the blond had an enthusiasm for food rivaling that of Daisuke and himself. It only served to reinforce the belief the three of them would make a set of tightly-knit friends.

"Let's move on." Shuu resumed his course, leading them to a tunnel heading for the memorials (as indicated by the steel plate next to it). _About time._ Chris followed close behind him. Veemon swallowed, proceeding with the second onigiri _properly_. "So why buildings?" the dragon queried, thinking it would've been better had his friends gone with what he expected.

"Koushirou's idea," answered the elder Kido. "Thought it'd be more efficient that way."

"More efficient?"

Veemon was a swift eater. Five minutes had barely passed when he ate the last bit of his second rice ball. He sucked his fingers dry, at least until the stickiness and taste was gone.

"For starters," Joe's older brother elucidated, "electricity and life support systems are easier to set up and maintain." He pointed at a thick pillar next to the refugees' building. "See that? Pumps inside draw water from the aquifer directly below the tunnels. It's also the same one used by the lodge's well."

"Ohhhh," the dragon understood, unconsciously wiping his fingers on Christopher's clothes.

The blond witnessed this travesty and hissed. "Vee!"

Veemon presented him with a blank, stupefied expression, one that spoke for him: "What did I do _now_?"

"You know what?" Christopher Van Numen shook his head. "Never mind." Then he attacked their tour guide, operating on the Chosen's prior question. Obviously he had been listening. "So how'd you get the architects and engineers for this?"

"In-house resources; some of the refugees decided to pitch in and contribute." Shuu's response was verbalized in a tone of condescenscion, as if the content should've been common sense.

Chris nodded, finishing the last bit of his food. "I see."

Shuu and Chris proceeded with a conversation about the difficulties the Twelve had to surmount to make this underground network of caves inhabitable and self-sustaining in all aspects, **including** food and economy. The way the stronghold's society was described gave Veemon the impression it was a completely different world compared to the system operated by the people on the surface. Putting aside the rustic lifestyle led by the Digidestined, here was a microcosm of the society Veemon loved, of the society he grew up in, way before all this anti-digimon crap started.

After listening to them for a while, the blue dragon felt the chill of boredom crawling up his spine. He plopped his head on Christopher's shoulder and fell asleep, only to feel the man pulling on his cheek. "Psst! Vee, wake up."

"Wake up!"

"Hmmuh?" Veemon croaked groggily, discovering a pair of steel, double doors not far in the distance. Even from their current position he could discern the symbols of the Twelve's nine crests (for the second generation of the Twelve worked with digimentals during the second adventure) etched onto the door. The engravings seemed perennial, capable of lasting as long as the door itself.

"Without further adieu," Shuu Kido sauntered to the doorway and seized the vertical handles, pushing them open, "the memorial chambers."

If it weren't for the fact they entered through a cave, Veemon would've thought they just walked into a corporate office. Save for an inactive desktop computer on the opposite end of the cubic room ready for use, the entire chamber was empty.

Veemon unraveled his arms off Chris's neck and jumped down, feeling the soft, navy-blue carpet with his toes. "We've got less than three quarters of an hour on the clock," reminded Shuu, "So we can't stay here too long. The way back's going to take us twenty minutes to traverse."

"Plenty of time," muttered Veemon. The sheer volume of the chamber frightened him. There were only four doors. Two on either side of the dormant desktop, and on the same side. A fleeting glance on the sides resulted in discerning faint sketches on the yellow-washed walls, written with permanent markers. It frightened Veemon to even ask about them. He was smart enough to figure out their purpose. The very nature of this place practically gave it away!

"What's the computer for?" the Chosen heard his companion ask.

Veemon did not stick around to listen. He veered to the left, automatically approaching the leftmost door. He stroked it, feeling the wood on his fingertips. It had obviously been crafted from the finest wood: a fitting piece of work for the purpose of preserving a memory.

A glint attracted his crimson eyes. Veemon lifted his head, ogling the golden plate attached to the door itself.

.

.

**DAISUKE MOTOMIYA**

**Heir of Courage and Friendship**

**Chosen Child of Miracles**

**Partner to Veemon**

.

.

Hands quivering, the Digimon of Miracles clutched the doorknob and twisted it, feeling the round instrument roll fluidly, unbarred by any locks in its inner mechanisms. The wooden door slid without effort from the dragon's own strength. Christopher's and Shuu's voices were no longer registered by his ears.

Gulping, he hesitated to step in. In the back of his mind, Daisuke was not dead. He was never dead. In fact, for that fact alone he would've demanded Shuu to dismantle this room as soon as possible! But he couldn't. Not yet. Veemon was curious. His inquisitive nature compelled him to see just how the Chosen Children—how the Digidestined—immortalized his human half's memory.

Veemon found the room a bit too small for his comfort. Roughly 5 by 7 meters, it induced the nasty feeling of claustrophobia. Even his cave at the Spire of Courage was better than this! The digimon's crimson eyes darted left, casting his gaze upon a desk of items put on display. Precious items once owned by Daisuke Motomiya himself.

The only "precious items" on display here were Daisuke's D3 and his D-Terminal. Veemon examined it, only to realize he was looking at nonfunctional replicas. Flawless in design, but possessing zero authenticity. His blood-red eyes graced two more items he knew by heart.

Veemon's hands picked up the first, a scarlet egg emblazoned with fire. As he had **never**, in his entire life, held the very sources of his Armor evolutions, the blue dragon was astounded to realize the Digimental of Courage fit so snugly in his calloused palms. It was truly a perfect replica. The fuller and tip of a convex saber jutted out from one side. Veemon lightly tapped it with his finger, wondering if it was sharp.

It wasn't.

_Maybe the real one's different_, he mused.

He set the Digimental down, hands seizing the gourd-shaped item right beside it. On the fatter end was a similar blade structure. Now that he got a closer look at it, Veemon found it amusing how the lightning shape of the blade gave away its element. No wonder the Armor of Friendship bequeathed electric abilities and speed! _The Digimental's as black as the armor, too!_

How did these things work? Such was the compelling nature of curiosity. _That_ was a question Veemon knew Daisuke would never have the answer to. (Koushirou was a better possibility. The Chosen kicked himself now for not addressing this question while he was still in the Digital World.)

He moved on from the Digimentals, seeing the rest of the desk was adorned with framed photographs of his family and friends.

These "precious items" turned out to be photographs lifted straight off the Motomiya family album. He had seen them all before. At times, he was even the one who handled the digital camera! Giving these pictures a closer look, the mental image burned in his head was a slideshow of Daisuke's life, from childhood to Chosen Child. From Chosen Child to adult.

Daisuke as a toddler. Daisuke as a brat who kept annoying his older sister. A teenage Jun and a young Daisuke in a picture together, grudgingly pacified. Daisuke as a football player, kicking the black-and-white ball in the camera's direction—this picture must have been difficult to acquire.

After this, Veemon entered the picture, but as Chibimon. The second baby form of the Digimon of Miracles oftentimes stood on his partner's shoulders, a big, goofy grin plastered on his face. The Chosen had been assimilated perfectly into the family following the final battle.

But why did the Motomiya defect on him when push came to shove? When Miyako had been killed, when people were threatening to kill the family, Daisuke's parents ordered his human half, his partner, his surrogate brother, to leave him. He could've protected them, no problem! Yet they refused to see that. "Why" was a question that lingered constantly in his thoughts…

Veemon blinked. Hard. Tear drops forming in his eyes bounced away, splattering on the ground without so much as a noise. He gyrated 180° immediately, unable to look further. The family turned on him. Daisuke bailed on his promise. Whatever the reasons were, however valid they were, betrayal was and will always be an excruciating emotion he didn't want to go through again. _**Never, ever**__._

Opposite the desk were a couple of statues. One depicted himself. Veemon currently stood at approximately 3 feet: roughly waist high in comparison to an adult male. The sculpture was a foot shorter, clearly indicating the physical growth he had undergone in several years. Carved on his stone self was a rictus grin, the gaping smile Veemon always wore, even to this very day.

Beside Veemon's own statue was that of his partner, albeit in his full glory: when he was still a young boy of only eleven years. The wardrobe he used to wear in those days was donned by the life-sized statue, whose height the Chosen now matched.

His hands groped the sleek, blue jacket, fingers tracing the tongues of flame draping its bottom half. Veemon gazed straight at the statue's face, ogling it before cupping its chin with his own hand. If it wasn't for the fact this statue was made of dull, gray stone, he could've easily mistaken it for the real thing. "Daisuke..." He sniffled, suppressing a depressed choke. Veemon felt lonely without his human half. Too lonely.

Sighting a butsudan on his left, on the wall facing the entrance, Veemon relinquished the sculpture's chin and walked to it. The cabinet was originally designed for spiritual use. Ubiquitous in Japan, it was meant to protect religious icons from the elements and to enshrine them in reverence outside times of religious sessions.

The Motomiyas were Buddhist. They used to have one in the living room, after all. In fact, **innumerable families **in Japan had this present in their homes. Veemon, however, was no Buddhist. Born in the Digital World, he only answered to the Four Gods. The Harmonious Ones. Nobody could change that. Not even Daisuke could make a convert out of him.

This butsudan had long been stripped of its religious purpose. Its doors wide open, Veemon spied a large picture of a smiling Daisuke Motomiya ogling him. One of the best photographs of the teenager, and it was something Veemon could be proud of: he took it himself!

Daisuke's father once purchased a _Nikon DSLR_ camera, straight from the earnings of his business. The parents handed down their _Canon_ digital camera to Jun before they started toying with their new device. Needless to say, their entire house became some sort of a studio. Veemon, as Chibimon, was agog about the whole thing. It stood as one reason why a small animal of the brightest blue suddenly appeared in the family photographs.

People outside the nuclear family would've easily mistaken him for a stuffed animal by looking at one picture alone. That is, if people were unable to graduate from the fact he seemed too real to be a doll in the first place—just how stupid were the masses if the digimon could easily masquerade as such in their _Adventure_ days?

Directly below the photograph was a box. He opened it, only to find the imprint of goggles within. Other than that, it was completely empty. Somebody had the nerve to desecrate his partner's memorial and loot it. _Man, Daisuke will be furious without those goggles._ There was nothing special about the headgear. The only thing his human half had for it was immense sentimental value, as it had been passed down from the Child of Courage himself.

On second thought, the goggles also symbolized the mark of leadership. After all, Veemon had met _plenty_ of tamers and Chosen Children other than the group he was part of. None of them dared to wear something as conspicuous as a pair of goggles, and on the forehead no less! The blue dragon had his own reservations about the headgear "requirement". Perhaps someone could provide real clarification one day…

The Chosen returned the box to its place. He gazed at Daisuke's picture, ogling his face, staring into Daisuke's brown eyes, feeling a sense of longing overtake him. "Daisuke," his voice trailed, breaking into a stifled sob. Veemon sniffled. Melancholy was returning to him. The same melancholy that nearly destroyed him in the Digital World. That overwhelmed his emotions. To the point he considered the reality—or the possibility—that Daisuke abandoned him, abdicating his duties as a Chosen Child, as his best friend, as his brother.

Attacked by grief, Veemon wilted. His tails and ears sagged. Veemon collapsed on his knees. This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought. _You should've been here at Mt. Fuji, Daisuke!_ With the Digidestined. With the Chosen Children. "With your friends," whispered Veemon, holding back his sobs. Self-restraint failed to prevent teardrops from falling.

Tear-drenched irises eyeballed the still photograph, imagining the person in it was looking right back at them. Veemon's hands scraped across the smooth, carpeted floor. He felt the rocks underneath them.

Why did he have to deal with this "disappeared before the war" crap? Why was Daisuke so difficult to find? Why was the world so prejudiced against the digimon? Why must life be so damn hard?

_And lonely_, added his thoughts.

Veemon's own disappointments coursed through his very being. _So, so lonely…_ He only had himself to embrace. Nobody was there for him. Nobody.

Then he moaned, consumed by nothing but sorrow.

* * *

Christopher Van Numen and Shuu Kido were engaged in a rather interesting conversation concerning this decrepit, obsolete hunk of junk sitting in the memorial chambers. "It looks like crap," he was explaining, "but it's strategically _crucial_."

Chris cocked an eyebrow. _Really._

It was a last resort option, he justified. A computer that could be plugged into the Internet at any time, allowing easy access to the Digital World. Granted, there was a computer up at the War Room, but its connectivity was ultimately determined by the desktop right beside him. "Also, Koushirou tinkered with this thing's hardware. Upgrading it with components _imported _from the Digital World."

"And let me guess," Chris speculated, "this thing practically runs the base?"

He sees Shuu smirk. "More or less." He patted the desktop. "Everything you see is made of chrome digizoid." Shuu pointed at the ceiling. "A falling rock won't crush this. We've done our tests before."

"Ever thought of someone tinkering with the programs?"

Shuu nodded. "Of course."

Before Chris could proceed with the questioning, the farthest door to their left creaked open. Veemon emerged from its bosom. Despite the impassive look in his eyes, Chris could tell a dismal air lingered around him. Something had happened. Knowing Veemon's reaction to Daisuke's disappearance, it wasn't difficult to infer what occurred inside the memorial. In fact it was most likely his partner's.

"_You shouldn't leave him_," Ken's voice rang in his thoughts. There was a choke. A suppressed whimper. _"I don't want to be there when he finds out about Daisuke…"_

The instruction was repeated. "_You shouldn't leave him_."

And Christopher had done just that, letting the dragon explore the memorials on his own. Grief and disappointment had obviously tormented Veemon to no end. It was easy to discern. Even he anticipated this when he spotted the Chosen entering the room.

It would've been prudent to follow Veemon. It would've been the right thing to do, rather than continuing the conversation he was having with Shuu. That, in the end, was just small talk. Zero value. But Chris chose the small talk. It had to be done.

"_It was necessary!"_

.

.

Veemon had already rejoined the duo. He tugged on Shuu's sleeve. "Dismantle that room," he alluded to Daisuke's memorial. His tone was flat. Shuu ogled Christopher, his pitiable expression pleading for him to do something.

"_Reconsider your decision."_

Christopher steeled himself and did nothing, not knowing pity—or guilt?—was apparent in his goldenrod eyes. _I'm sorry I wasn't there_, he mentally apologized.

"_Take good care of Veemon, okay?"_

_But... "It was necessary!"_ He shut out the voices in his head, the thoughts telling him to discontinue his plans. Christopher clenched his fists, listening to Veemon press on without doing anything else. "There's no point to it," croaked the dragon, focused on Shuu alone. "Daisuke's not dead, you know. I wouldn't be standing here now if he was…"

Chris's eyes were on Veemon. To his amazement, the Digimon of Miracles retained a semblance of composure, despite his countenance showing signs of a recent mental breakdown.

Like Christopher, Shuu elected not to call it out. "Don't worry about it," he mentioned. "We'll get to it within the week." The elder Kido knew it was none of his business, but couldn't help glancing at the blond. _I hope you know what you're doing_, his eyes seemed to say. "Oh well," he sighed. "At least we don't have to dig a new one for Taichi's."

Veemon's depressed state vanished completely. He perked. "T-Taichi?"

Shuu blinked. "Eh?"

Chris's mouth was agape. _Oh no!_

"Why?" The blond **did not** like the sparkle in those crimson orbs, that glint of recollection, and further behind it, a faint glimmer of hope.

"Haven't you seen the news?" Shuu queried, scratching the back of his head as if it was supposed to be common knowledge among the Japanese. "He… died, last night. In a clash against the DSI…"

"YOU'RE WRONG!" Veemon exclaimed. Excitement had taken over the dragon _completely_. "HE'S ALIVE. TAICHI'S **STILL** ALIVE!"

Joe's older brother was dumbstruck. "B-but, the Vice-Chairman, i-in, in that press-con—

"Forget what Yamaki said!" Veemon blurted, unknowingly mimicking the very words the ex-Modifier gave him. "We've got **inside information**!" He looked at Chris for support. "That's what Tina told us this noon, right, Chris? Dammit, how could I forget?"

Shuu imitated Veemon's expectant stare, directing his gaze at the blond. Chris took a deep breath and nodded in concurrence. _I can't defer it any longer._

"Let's head back to the War Room A.S.A.P.!" On those four letters, the Digimon of Miracles bolted for the double doors, his tail swinging between his legs.

"Veemon, wait!" clamored Shuu, still disconcerted by the startling revelation.

.

Trailing behind the two, Christopher's sympathetic visage transformed into a hideous scowl.

.

.

.

_Veemon's sudden recollection of Taichi Yagami's current status enrages Christopher Van Numen. This innocent act transformed the Digimon of Miracles into an enemy, an unfortunate stumbling block that must be surpassed if Chris aspires to proceed onward with his mission without serious complications. However, can Chris shelve his personal feelings and be a noninterventionist to the end, remaining loyal to his own goals? Or will he succumb to his own guilt and human need for companionship, assisting Veemon and the Digidestined in a mission to rescue Taichi Yagami from the Digital Suppression Initiative?__  
_

_Coming up next on _The Interloper_, "Priorities". What will be the fruits of this meeting with the Digidestined's leadership?  
_

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[7] I have to thank **Lord Pata** for providing some suggestions on how the dead Chosen Children's memorials will look like. You can easily surmise that the way Daisuke's memorial is arranged would be reflected on the others' as well. I will have to return to Chapters 9 & 10 in the near future so I can apply some retroactive adjustments. ^_^

[8] What bothered me most here was the way I handled Hikari and Tailmon's dialogue outside the Core Group's building. I'm very sure I could improve the dialogue some more, but after proofreading this chapter, I absolutely have no idea what to add... Tsk tsk. Oh well, I suppose this is one of those times when I can opt for mediocrity. =_=

[9] Did anybody here catch the Half-Life 2 reference? :D BTW, there's a fic I want to recommend for you guys to read. It's called _Precious Little Life_ by Arcana Force XIII 'Thanatos'. An AU/OC fic, set in an Academy at the Digital World aimed to foster healthy relationships between the human and digimon species. I'm the beta for this story, and I'm giving you my word it's an interesting one. ^^

[10] Responses to reviews will be placed here, as usual. They will be truncated, of course. :)

**Rets: **First of all, TSI does _not_ mean "Time Slot Interchange" (WTF did you just google that?). It's a reference to my screen name, _The Silent Insomniac_. Second, Jun wasn't in the Mt. Fuji stronghold to begin with; she's out there in Tokyo, living close to Tokyo Disneyland (YES, the place Shuu mentioned **is** a real-life location!). Finally, I agree with you right there. Veemon needed a hug. Chris anticipated a breakdown was likely to happen and didn't do a damn thing anyway; that just goes to show Chris is a complete jerk. =_= Personally, I too would've been there for the little dragon to hug.

**Coop97**: Thanks, buddy. I work hard to make sure my readers feel like they were part of the story. It justifies my long update time. :D Don't worry though, the next chapter's going to be just as intense... well, I'll get to writing it soon. Anyway, since I don't want to give away my HL2 reference to the curious readers, let me just say it's not a reference from the game itself, but from the marketing strategy employed by the developers.

**RazenX**: You waited 'til I was done with _Operation: Pyramid_ and everything else, eh? XP Anyway, about the ending of _Pyramid_, well I originally planned this ending from the very beginning (when I outline the major events of the fic). It was really meant to startle the reader as well as emphasize the changes Christopher is making to the story without doing a single thing on his part. And true, the characters are all different people now, maturing from their own experiences and age. At the very heart of it, though, they're still the characters we all came to know and love from the _Zero Two_ anime. I just expanded on their personalities and interpersonal relationships with their partners and each other, to account for the ten years that had lapsed since the BelialVamdemon battle.

At any rate, thanks for the feedback. I greatly appreciate it. It makes me happy to read a 3rd party's verification of my own compliance to my standards of battle scenes and storyline narration.


	17. Alive

**Pre-chapter author's notes:****  
**

[1] Word count is an astounding 9,860. For the second time ever, one of my chapters did not make it past the 10K bar. The reason for this is because, once again, I have decided to split my chapters. I'm currently typing the last few scenes of the second half, but, err... the content is so strong I need to do a lot of proofreading and visualization, just so everything is, well, you know, PERFECT! XDDDD (Then again, perfection is unattainable. An asymptote.)

[2] Anyway, I REALLY LIKE what's going to happen in this chapter and the next. Oh, _especially _the next. I'm working hard to bring you guys high-quality work, and I for one hope you would be kind enough to leave some comments and feedback. The scenes that you are about to read are part of the original outline and are thus what I would call a "defining feature" of the fiction. Something that separates it from other pieces of work in the _Digimon _fandom.

[3] Here's the 17th chapter, _Alive_. Enjoy! :D

* * *

The War Room was nothing more but a small chamber, deep within the bosom of Mt. Fuji, one room out of so many strewn about underground, connected by tunnels lit by tungsten lights, the cold passages large enough to fit even the large Adult digimon.

Just in case a battle ensued.

Tailmon cast her bright, blue eyes at the stone table sitting coldly at the very center of the chamber, its primitive form juxtaposing the computer on the other end of the chamber and the white tarpaulin rolled up beside it, the cylinder dangling from the ceiling.

The Digimon of Light inhaled, eying those around the table. A wizened man sat on the ironwood chair, meditating in patience. Chikara, the grandfather of Iori Hida, Child of Humility. The senior balled his hands and coughed. A brief reminder of his old age, no matter how strong he was for an old man.

"Man, they're taking their sweet time." Mantarou Inoue ran a palm across his blond hair, feeling the short bristles tickle his skin. His back leaned on the wall. A foot tapped the floor, signifying a behavior completely opposite of the senior's. Normally, Tailmon would've frozen him in place with a disciplinarian glare. But not this time. She could perfectly understand where the anxiety was coming from.

The white cat's ears twitched. A man snorted on his chair, leaning forward on its backrest, arms piled on top. He scratched his nose, adjusting the frames of his glasses. "Let it slide, Mantarou. You **know** how expansive the network is."

"Mr. Izumi." Mantarou simply nodded, saying nothing else. Everyone in this room knew how far the tunnels went. This underground hideaway wasn't just a subterranean fortress. It was also home. Home for those who were cast out by society, for those who could no longer struggle to find acceptance in a world that condemned them, for nothing more but believing digimon were worthy of rights. Worthy of being considered equals to humanity.

While there _were_ people who preferred to live topside, no matter how many times society screwed them over, the fewer among them living happy, successful lives out there, trying to change the world through less radical ways (however useless it really was to fight the null hypothesis) and clandestine methods (a strategy available only to affluent sympathizers), the fact remained the Digidestined were the last refuge, the last semblance of normalcy, for the garbage of modern society.

Several atriums housing structures meant for either reserve combatants or refugees were scattered throughout the network. _Of course _it would take time for Christopher, Veemon, and Shuu to return, especially when they came from the Memorials, the very bottom—and center—of the stronghold itself. "Please," Mantarou requested. "**Don't** remind me."

"Take it easy on him, Masami!" reprimanded another adult, scratching the curly locks of his hazel hair. He was roughly the same age as Koushirou Izumi's adoptive father. _Some scolding_, Tailmon scoffed. Kiriha Ichijouji employed an unmistakenably _jocular _tone.

A woman next to the man clasped her hands, giving Masami Izumi a pleading look immediately after shooting a sympathetic one at Mantarou. "Remember what Hikari told us, we could see our children again!" Ayumi Ichijouji, still as plump as she had been in the past, wiped a stray tear from her eye. "We might see Ken again," she muttered. "After two long years…"

Her husband addressed Mantarou. A fleeting glance. "_And_ it'd mean significant progress to the war. Veemon's alive. Daisuke's Veemon. You know what that means." His point was easy to see: it meant the war could end before the year 2013 was over! Before October was over.

Significant progress indeed, Tailmon pondered. Veemon was the strongest digimon among the Twelve, on par with the likes Agumon and Gabumon. Once they find Daisuke Motomiya, wherever he was, the Digidestined, no, the _Chosen Children_, will have access to **two **Ultimate levels: Imperialdramon… and WarGreymon.

Tailmon's ears wilted. Scratch that. _Make that one_. Taichi Yagami was dead after all.

_Agumon is also gone…_

For a split second, the Digimon of Light wished it was Patamon who returned. Her paws balled into fists, claws sheathed within. She clenched them, feeling the emotion stab her in the chest. Tailmon missed Patamon. Terribly. She wanted to hug the orange hamster, feel the soft, furry body with her own, and play with the bat wings he had for his ears. She wished she could hear the Digimon of Hope's voice again, just one more time, speaking those three words…

Tailmon was happy Veemon returned alive. She really was. But Veemon was just her best friend. He knew it, and preferred it that way. Completely content. In a sense, the blue dragon was far more mature than his own partner, who couldn't stop fawning over Hikari even well after she and Takeru went public with their intimate relationship.

Still, Veemon was… simply a friend. An important friend. His return would only shallow the hole in her heart. The thought of it depressed the white cat. The thought of Agumon being dead saddened her even further. The orange dinosaur had truly been a brother to her.

Tailmon felt tears threatening to fall down her eyes. She steeled herself. Here she was, standing by the curtain separating the War Room from the tunnels, its thickness absorbing every sound wave attempting to pass through it. Her job was to keep an eye out for Shuu, Christopher, and Veemon. Not to loiter in one place crying over someone who had been dead for three years! _I'm stronger than this_, Tailmon steeled herself. _Stronger than Hikari._

"Tailmon?"

She whipped towards the curtain, glimpsing Hikari's entry into the war room, fresh from the toilets. Hikari Yagami stood before her. Tall. Then she leaned forward, kneeling down on one knee as if genuflecting before her digital half. Tailmon felt her moss-green arm warmers slide across her smooth coat of fur, enveloping her back as the Child of Light pulled her in for an embrace.

Tailmon reciprocated. "Thank you." _I needed that._

.

.

Without warning, the curtain was pushed aside. A yellow fox stood in its place, her paws still on the compacted cloth. Renamon. The last representative of the core group, filling in for Rika Nonaka. She had segregated herself from the small gathering at the stone table to await the arrival of Shuu and the two responsible for this meeting. That she was here meant…

"They're right behind me," Renamon announced, her reserved voice reverberating throughout the chamber. She walked in, shutting the curtain behind her. Renamon took a spot opposite Mantarou, who opted to remain at the wall, leaning back in a rather lackadaisical manner.

Tailmon felt the arm warmers pull away. She looked up at her human half, straight into her eyes. "C'mon, Tailmon," her sweet voice cooed, hazel hair flowing down to her shoulders. "Let's take our seats."

The Digimon of Light nodded in reply.

.

.

Her eyes caught the curtain being parted by none other than Shuu Kido. Joe's older brother entered the war room the moment the core group finished their mental preparations. Tailmon watched him gyrate and beckon the two behind him to follow. Then he fixed the collar of his olive blazer, joining the core group. Seated next to Masami Izumi.

Tailmon frowned when she saw _that man_ walk in. She never liked him the moment they met. The black vest. The white shirt beneath it. The pants and boots worn from the waist down. On any other, they were ordinary items of clothing. But on _him_, they stood out just as much as the silver bracer wrapped on his arm like a second skin, the white staff hoisted on his back, and the golden medallion dangling beneath his neck, the sparkle of its embedded jewel catching her eye.

Something about the verdant green gemstone was familiar to the Digimon of Light. _Where have I seen that before?_ Dismissing this thought, Tailmon's glare drilled into the blond's goldenrod eyes, recognizing determination. Cold and heartless. As rigid as steel.

Everything about this person stood out. Tailmon panned over the table, seeing the same flicker of attention in the eyes of her brethren. Already that man awakened _something_ in the core group, carrying himself with an air that felt out of place.

"_It's him, Tailmon." Hikari's sweet voice trembled with fear and trepidation. "From the third scene." The third scene of her nightmares, described to depict a catatonic Veemon cradled in the arms of a blond man, with the silver bracer on his left arm, with the golden medallion swinging below his sternum._

An air that reeked of danger.

Tailmon inwardly vowed to save Veemon from his threat before it was even realized. The Digimon of Miracles was an important friend. She couldn't bear to lose him now, not when she had lost Agumon and her significant other to the scythe of death, to the accursed, corporate machine of humanity. To the scissors of fate. _I will protect you,_ she swore. _Even if I have to kill _that man_ in front of your eyes._

Veemon plodded behind the blond, stopping to join him in surveying the war room and its occupants. Tailmon suppressed a gasp when she noticed the dragon's height. He had grown! Veemon's head tapered off a little bit above the waistline of the man next to him. Since when had he gotten that tall? She thought. In fact, how did Tailmon even miss this when she found them climbing up the mountainside?

Had she been too happy to notice?

_No, that's not it._ In her cogitation, the white cat recalled Veemon had always, _always_, been Chibimon in the Real World. Like Hawkmon and Armadimon, Veemon's second baby form was his default mode here. Of course growth spurts of the Child level would be practically unseen!

This reflection, this insight, was followed immediately by another question. One that made the Digimon of Light think.

Why wasn't he Chibimon now? What caused the change—

She stopped herself. Tailmon **knew** the reason. The root cause of this anomalous change.

Tailmon's sweet eyes bore menacingly into the blond's. _You're responsible for this._

* * *

The Child of Light rose from her seat, coughing into her fist. Her eyes fell upon the two newcomers, returning immediately to the stone table. There was a tense atmosphere dominating the room, stifling her. Chilling her spine. Hikari felt cold in her citrine blouse, and adjusted Takeru's shirt to cover her shoulders like a pair of spaulders.

Her cough seized everybody's attention. "Everyone," she articulated, making a short gesture to acknowledge the blond standing among them. "This is Christopher Van Numen." Her gaze landed on the blue dragon gazing back at them all. "Beside him is Veemon. _Daisuke's_ partner," she stressed.

Hikari and Christopher made eye contact. His hardened, goldenrod eyes unnerved her. It sent a shiver down her spine. Unwilling to succumb to this fear before the leadership of the Digidestined, Hikari only nodded. It was a silent sign. One that bequeathed to him the floor. The conversation.

"To recap," the Child of Light briefed, repeating the short briefing she had given the core group earlier, "Ken Ichijouji _somehow _managed to bypass the Digital Dive System and sent them here from the Digital World. They brought something we could use to reestablish communications with our friends back there—

Veemon opened his muzzle. "AND—

To the blue dragon's chagrin, Christopher usurped his interruption. "**AND** I figured you guys could help me out with something."

Hikari couldn't help but observe Veemon fidgeting beside the blond stranger, a look of clear agitation on his face. She took her seat on the ironwood chair, wondering what kind of news would subject him to such anxiety. Veemon had been an immensely hyperactive digimon in his second baby level, and no doubt his current form is just as impulsive.

_Veemon gently, softly, clasped her hand between his own. "Hikari," he gazed up at her with reassuring eyes. "Christopher's strong and he's been watching over me since we left the Digital World yesterday," he consoled, giving the Child of Light the widest grin he could put on his snout._

As a Child, at least Daisuke's digital half had an improved sense for tact, possessing the ability to discern moments when playfulness was appropriate. That he had seen through her fears that dusk and attempted to assuage them vouched for this.

Whatever was agitating the dragon could be dismissed as the usual childishness many had acclimated to. Still, there was _always_ the slightest chance it was something serious, something she should know, something that should've been said on the onset of this conversation. Hikari ogled the blond standing before him, who just produced the Orange Box from an unseen location behind his back, as if it came from hammerspace. Where was he storing the items? He pulled off the same stunt earlier back at the lodge. And why was it always the left arm?

Christopher took control of the discussion; he obviously had no intentions of letting Veemon take it away from him. "Let me tell you a bit about myself first," he began. "I am a third party to all this. I am **not** involved with your fight against the Digital Suppression Initiative. I have no obligation to help you."

Mantarou popped a question. "So why are you here, then?"

"Because I have business with those bastards. They have something I want, and Ken referred me to **you **for information on their Research and Development Wing."

Chikara snorted. "And what will you do when we give you that information?"

Chris rolled his eyes, as if the answer was apparent. "Infiltrate the place, duh."

Hikari did not expect that from him. Infiltrate the DSI's R&D Wing? That was suicide! If there's anything the Digidestined learned from reconnaissance missions on the M&A perimeter, it was the fact anything related to DSI's property was heavily guarded. Worse, nobody in this mountain really knew exactly where R&D was located.

In the past, they encountered rumors of R&D being located in Odaiba (out of all places!), but recon missions led the Digidestined to conclude it to be just that, a simple rumor. A lie. All of them, aspiring to unearth an entrance of some sort, ended in failure. The only thing they **did** know about R&D was that it could only be accessed through a private train underneath M&A. Only someone from R&D would know the Odaiba entrance.

If it truly existed.

Unfortunately, M&A soldiers were as abundant as the grains of sand on the beach.

If the only surefire access point was located in Shinjuku, then an infiltration attempt would definitely be—

"Suicidal!" clamored Shuu, speaking up for the stunned leadership sitting before the pair. "Do you have ANY idea what you're up against?"

Christopher's reply was instant. "Umm," he dawdled. Hikari shook her head; he obviously didn't give it much thought. "I dunno. A bunch of tanks? Groups of soldiers with rifles and bazookas?" Then he shrugged.

HE EFFING SHRUGGED.

"Nothing too difficult for me to handle," he added, chuckling. "I don't plan on sneaking in, really. Heh."

Shuu's and Mantarou's jaws just **dropped** from the way he just dismissed the sheer difficulty of breaking into the HQ. And from the front door no less! Chikara, Masami, and the Ichijouji couple were deadpan, but Hikari knew they were just as startled.

_Was this a joke to him?_

Renamon was offended by the implication of his words, by his _laissez-faire_ disposition on something that clearly meant life and death! Her cerulean eyes pierced the blond, showering him with a gaze that spoke nothing but pure ferocity. "We conducted an operation to invade the DSI last night," muttered the yellow fox, her pointed muzzle trained directly at him, her words meant to squeeze all the arrogance and conceit from this Christopher. "You're looking at one of the few survivors of that operation and I can tell you we were **overwhelmed**! How can _YOU_ succeed when a battle involving eighty of **our best **failed?"

Rika's digital half adopted a derisive tone, adding a touch of contempt to her counterattack. This didn't faze the blond. Chris stepped forward, sauntering to Shuu Kido's seat.

Hikari looked at the white cat seated next to her. She had been ogling Christopher for the past five minutes, wary of his intentions. The man had an ulterior motive for helping them. "Business" with the DSI? What sort of business was this?

The way he rebutted Shuu disturbed Hikari. It had been easily dismissed, as if the prospect of facing tanks, helicopters, and soldiers armed to the teeth was nothing to him. Renamon's rejoinder had been expected to make him give up on this idea, but instead he said nothing, strolling to Shuu with only confidence on his face. As well as what seemed to be a flicker of irritation.

What edge could this blond have over an armed resistance force? Chris wasn't aware of the underground tunnel running in the sewers, the path that led directly into M&A without a single intersection with the DSI's surveillance system. _An obvious trap_, Taichi once called it. No one else knew about it except for Hikari herself, and their two digimon partners.

"W-wh, w-wh-what, what are you doing?"

Shuu's frantic stutters brought Hikari back to reality. Her eyes snapped to Christopher, who had just seized the middle-aged man's AK-47 without so much as a single request. "I'm borrowing this."

Christopher was quick to return to his spot, to a corner of the chamber. Tension gripped the air around them. Tailmon unsheathed her claws. Renamon clenched her fists. Everyone seated around her prepared to scram. Veemon was the only reason nothing happened—Chris handed the rifle to the blue dragon.

Hikari saw a concerned look on his muzzle. The Digimon of Miracles glimpsed at them, his red eyes exuding some worry. His mouth moved. Probably a question of confirmation. The blond only nodded. She watched Veemon sigh and saunter to the opposite corner.

"There's only one way to answer that," Chris responded, staring at Renamon.

As soon as the blue dragon took his last step, "VEE!"

Veemon rotated in place and trained the gun **on Christopher himself**.

Tailmon screamed. "Veemon, what're you doing?"

Shuu and Mantarou yelled. "DON'T SHOO—

Thunderous gunfire echoed in the war room. Hikari was subjected to a whining tinnitus. Suffering from the earache, the Child of Light gripped her ears, mouth wailing in horror as she turned away from the sight, not wanting to see the blond man ripped apart by an assault rifle, not before her very eyes!

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

_

* * *

What… _

Renamon gasped, her eyes dilated in astonishment.

An entire clip of high-caliber, armor-piercing bullets had been emptied on Christopher within ten seconds. Veemon just displayed a honed talent in marksmanship, every shot striking his right shoulder, and on the same spot.

_The…_

A normal man would've lost his arm. A normal man would've had his vital organs struck. Bullets could have sliced through body, propelling through the air at such powerful velocities. When the AK-47's bullets hit the blond, _every single one_ bounced harmlessly off him, losing most of their kinetic energy in the collision, falling to the ground in mere moments.

_Hell._

He was unscathed. His shoulder had nothing to show except a small spot made crimson by irritation. Chris let out a soft, pained groan, as if a clip of 30 bullets was nothing but a _paper cut_ to him. He rubbed what little blood oozed out his skin. "That smarts," he grumbled.

Renamon's glance strayed to Shuu. To Mantarou. To _everyone_ in this room. All but Veemon were dazed, so stupefied at the sight as if he was a monster. A true monster. If Christopher seemed dislocated now, this demonstration accentuated his extrinsic nature. "Out of place" was no longer a mere impression, but a reality that had been shoved to their faces whether they wanted it or not.

The kitsune was reminded instantly of the demons she and her tamer encountered during _Operation: Pyramid_, during their flight from their perch. The very beasts that massacred the DSI soldiers waiting for them on the ground floor. The reptiles, composed of nothing but a dark mist, that had proven exceptionally resilient to firearms and even Adult-level attacks.

Who was this man standing before them? What connection did he have with those, those **things**?

"I can take anything the DSI will throw at me," Christopher's voice boomed in the eerie silence. He repeated it once more. "Anything." The blond added a conjunction at the end, pausing to ensure the occupants in this room gave him their utmost attention. "But…"

"…The new technology they've been experimenting with."

Christopher's goldenrod eyes averted away from the group, towards his right. Renamon followed his gaze, noting he and Veemon just made direct eye contact.

_New technology?_ Renamon shuddered at the thought. The DSI was already armed to the teeth, fully capable of fighting both digimon and humans. Fatigue metal, manufactured within digital fields, to exacerbate energy consumption. Lockheed Dispersion Coating, to minimize damage from non-physical attacks. The Digital Dive System, to regulate the barrier between the two worlds. The triband suppressors, an improvement on the Digimon Kaiser's dark spiral technology, controlling the free will and rationality of all monsters subjected to it.

These four were instrumental in humanity's impending victory, and yet… there was still **more**? The DSI was **developing** better weapons?

"They call it _Digital Modification_," Christopher was explaining, having moved onto the first. Renamon, in her shock, did not hear the circumstances surrounding the first use of this innovation. Neither did she see the sadness flickering in Veemon's scarlet eyes. "It works through devices that augment the natural environment." He paused. "Including themselves."

Her ears twitched, registering Tailmon's voice. "W, what do you mean by 'devices that augment the natural environ—

The blond scratched his head, depicting a look of confusion. "I don't know—or understand—the technical details, but the only explanation that stuck to my head was, 'the Chosen evolve their monsters, but the Modifiers evolve themselves'." He shrugged. "The statement sounds utterly stupid if you ask me…"

Nobody listened to him. Ever since he mentioned that simple statement, the core group began whispering among themselves. The murmurs were tainted by fear. Everyone in the Digidestined, sans this Christopher and the allies stranded in the Digital World, knew the DSI had been confiscating digivices along with the digimon they collect from the populace for "domestication". It was common knowledge that the devices were used for scientific experiments. For research and development.

Initiatives to uncover R&D's intentions with the rectangular, generation one digivices always failed. They never surfaced in the reconnaissance and ambush raids conducted by the Digidestined on facilities managed by the digimon and triband suppressor industries, as if the handheld gadgets went to a different location.

And with this news, they finally knew. Knew too late. If Digital Modification was standardized in the DSI, it would completely destroy whatever competitive advantages the Digidestined possessed through their partners.

"Wait," Renamon questioned, "you fought these… Modifiers, right?"

Christopher had simply been staring, watching them whisper among each other while keeping an eye on Veemon. Daisuke's digimon partner was right beside him. He seemed impatient, his three-toed foot tapping the rock ground. An occasional sigh escaped his muzzle.

"Yes," the blond and dragon retorted. Their eyes met again a second later.

Masami Izumi ignored the awkward tension between them, "Aren't there any limitations? Weakpoints?"

Both Veemon and Christopher spoke. "There are two." They looked at each other. Chris mumbled something, persuading Veemon to look away, downcast. This puzzled Renamon. When she first met them, they seemed good friends. Great friends. Yet now… Christopher had said something to keep his mouth shut, to maintain control of the meeting. The yellow fox interpreted the Digimon of Miracles' agitation as an eagerness to contribute, to say something!

So why was Chris hogging the spotlight? Her eyes narrowed, suspecting Christopher had plans he didn't want Veemon to interfere with.

"First, it requires physical contact." Physical contact was explained as direct skin-to-device contact. If the Modifiers' digivice was ripped off from their users' possession, the cancellation effects were immediate. The same would occur in the event of the digivice's destruction. To minimize probabilities of such events, the small machines were held secure by a catch-lock mechanism worn on the wrist like a bracer. "If you're strong enough, you can easily destroy or steal it."

Of course, the weakness wasn't _exactly_ a weakness. "They can adjust to that tactic by bolstering the durability of the device or its holder." In other words, the task of separating a Modifier from the digivice was an arduous one, let alone the fact they still had to **fight** the soldier. Self-evolution meant the enhancement of physical attributes. A human, armed with existing technology, could easily boost his agility, dexterity, and strength to fight evenly with Child digimon like Renamon herself, or Adult ones such as Kyuubimon or Greymon. For all she knew, these Modifiers could enhance their natural healing as well.

Christopher coughed, proceeding. "Second, the devices require an external power source. A charged battery, for example. Obviously, the stronger the modification, the more energy it consumes." The examples Chris gave were astonishing. The Modifiers could **literally** manufacture ammunition _on the spot_ for their rifles and grenade launchers. Combat knives could be given a blade of lightning. Bullets can be turned into flying, rapid-fire explosives. Who would be mere humans otherwise were like digimon through this abysmal technology.

"_Knuckle Fire_ and _Electric Fist_. They used that on me so many times I know what they do." The first erupted into an explosion with every strike. The second electrocuted the victim with a voltage setting high enough to fry a normal human. That these attacks could deal_ negligible damage_ to Christopher highlighted the danger they posed to normal men. To normal digimon.

To everyone fighting for the Digidestined, for the Chosen Children's egalitarian cause.

Truly, _Digital Modification_ induced fear and terror in the core group, a doubt on whether the Digidestined could achieve their long-term goals.

As Christopher continued to speak, Renamon felt a chill crawl up her spine, especially when he reported the DSI **overcoming** the battery power problem. "They have a new power source," he said. "One that can _also_be weaponized."

"The energy is called æther." Chris's face was expressionless. He spoke with seriousness, knowing he had everybody's attention, unnerving them all with this latest development. "And this is where **I** get involved."

* * *

Tailmon quivered in her seat.

She was scared.

When Veemon trained Shuu's assault rifle on Christopher and unloaded the entire 30-bullet clip on him, Hikari turned away and screamed. Tailmon, on the other hand, had been completely mesmerized. The Digimon of Miracles had given his and Chris's audience a fleeting glance before proceeding with this demonstration. A glance that was glazed with concern. With uncertainty. As if he personally felt the blond shouldn't go through with this.

Did he anticipate stark reactions from the spectators? Since when had he been **that** tactful? In fact, since when did he become such an excellent marksman? Tailmon shuddered. _You have changed so much in three years, Veemon! _What had happened to him in the Digital World?

Her gaze spotted the thin scar across his white underside, along with some traces of multiple bruises and blemishes on the blue leather that was his soft, smooth skin. Tailmon discerned the bullet holes—or rather, their marks—on Veemon's right leg and tail. _What happened to you?_

"Holy shit!"

Shuu's outburst returned Tailmon to the scene unfolding before her cerulean eyes. The white cat peered at her surroundings. If dumbfounded and utterly stunned expressions were expected from Chris's bold exhibition of his own incongruity, the Digimon of Miracles had been proven correct!

The humans were all flabbergasted. Flustered. Chikara's eyes had grown so wide his Asian descent could be questioned! Tailmon could hear the rapid chattering of Mantarou's teeth. Ayumi Ichijouji had fear in her eyes, hugging Kiriha for security (ahh, and another reason for Tailmon to miss her beloved hamster!). Masami Izumi and Shuu Kido alike were just staring, spacing out in their stupod. Renamon shivered, her mind apparently somewhere else. Did the scene remind her of something? Hikari Yagami's jaw had fallen as low as it possibly could.

Their feedback was not surprising. After all, no ordinary person could survive being shot from one side with one full clip of armor-piercing bullets. The zipping projectiles would have ripped his entire torso apart instead of _rebounding _with most of their kinetic energy lost from the impact!

Christopher was not human.

That much was certain.

That much was all the Digimon of Light needed to deepen her doubts. Her distrust. Her animosity. This one demonstration proved that man was a threat in the long-term. Confirmed what Hikari's dreams portended.

What scared Tailmon was not the blond's invulnerability to bullets. What frightened her were the consequences of his presence. The circumstances that would lead to the third scene of her partner's nightmares.

Sweat rolled down her furry head. Who _was_ this man? **WHAT** was he? How could she remove this stranger from the equation and neuter the catastrophic scenario Hikari had long foreseen?

These thoughts were deferred the moment the man spoke of Digital Modification. "The Chosen evolve their monsters, but the Modifiers evolve themselves," was the only elucidation he offered, despite thinking it ludicrous. The blond was _truly _a foreigner. An alien. There could be no other explanation for his apparent invulnerability, and his lack of comprehension for what was common knowledge in this world.

That man couldn't grasp the gravity of that statement. Neither could he see the value the information bequeathed to the Digidestined. Digital Modification, once standardized, would equalize the playing field! Humanity would have the ability to fight Perfect and Ultimate digimon on an equal level. Worse, there was no weakness. None, except for a hefty energy requirement. A barrier arising from the manufacturing process. From attempts to reproduce digivices geared at evolving humanity, reverse-engineering those designed for the monsters' benefit.

A barrier that **has been surpassed.**

Mankind was an enemy like no other. Individually, every person could be slain in one attack, disposed of without any effort at all. The Dark Digimon, the villains the Chosen Children have fought in the past, misconstrued this to be the only thing humanity had to offer, and as such, underestimated them **or** deemed them useless and weak.

Ethnocentric digimon would never see that Man's innovation was, indeed, a force to be reckoned with. It was the **only** redeeming factor to humanity. Though each individual was weak, the presence of innovation, of a _creative power_, in every person could easily tip the scales to their favor. The digivices were surely a product of this ingenuity. Gennai, after all, must have been human at some point in time.

Given some thought, it was highly likely that the victories the Chosen Children won in their adventures ten years ago were nothing more but products of Man's creative ability.

"Æther is a form of energy that exists everywhere, filling space homogenously," lectured the blond. "It is the foundation of matter itself, far smaller than subatomic. No scientific instrument in the 21st century can detect æther." Christopher elevated his palm and tendered it before his audience as if he was holding a golden apple in his hand. "An orb of æther the size of a golf ball would power a metropolis like Tokyo for at least three years or, if ignited, wipe off a city block from the face of the earth."

The man spoke as if he was **intimate** with this energy source. He said it himself! _"No scientific instrument in the 21__st__ century can detect æther."_ Tailmon shivered, gripped by another frightening realization. Chris just bequeathed a piece of information about himself. About his origins.

It wasn't hard to see the implications. His very involvement with the affairs of the Digidestined would change the war completely! Rather, it had _already _changed—a conclusion the white cat realized when the man articulated his next sentence. "The technology that uses æther as both a weapon and a power source **is ****MINE**." Anger marked his tone. "I have absolutely no idea how they got it; presently physics has not progressed to a level where æther can even be _detected_."

The only reasonable theory there was the existence of a benefactor, of someone who had provided the technology. "But who'd be crazy enough to accelerate human science by several millennia?" Christopher paused—did a flash of horror glaze his eyes just now?—shook his head, disgruntled. "Well, it doesn't matter," he grunted frivolously. "I'm _obviously_ taking it back. Remove all traces of it from existence.

"Those DSI bastards are changing things and—

A shrill scream.

A voice that tortured Tailmon's eardrums for only a moment. A voice loud enough to usurp the spotlight completely. The childlike pitch was enough to identify its speaker. Everyone present had been so focused on the blond stranger it took zero effort at all to snatch the attention, to instantly capture the audience's gaze.

The Digimon of Light shot her eyes at Veemon. Hikari's eyes quivered, a hand cupping her mouth. They blinked, wondering if they had heard right, if what he had just blurted out was true and blue. Saliva dripped from his agape snout, accompanied by wheezing and exhaustion that arose from his decision to disclose his secret, to rebel against Christopher's own hold against him. His crimson eyes were trained straight at Hikari and Tailmon. The message had been for the core group, but it was deeply personal for the emissaries of Light—both of them.

It was a message so pure and simple, so full of hope, that the effects of Chris's ominous and distressing statements had been neutralized in an instant.

"TAICHI'S ALIVE!"

* * *

Veemon was taking the direct route from the Memorials to the Leadership's Chamber, traversing the rather steep incline of the developed, tungsten-lit tunnels as fast as he could. _Taichi's alive!_ A voice echoed in his head, reprimanding the dragon for his carelessness. _How could I forget that? _"Veemon," he scolded himself. "What 's wrong with you?"

He intended to report this the moment he barged into the War Room. Unfortunately for him, Christopher easily caught up to him, tackling him in the middle of the tunnels. Shuu Kido was behind. **Far** behind.

"Don't tell them about Taichi yet," the blond recommended. "Inform them now and they'll obsess over him."

He was being told to suppress this information? Veemon couldn't help but gasp at the advice! This was sensitive data! It was the most important thing they had to say. _C'mon, man, Taichi's involved_. **TAICHI**. The leader of the Chosen Children! A man of strategy and experience. A man Daisuke Motomiya had looked up to in his childhood. In his teenage years! Veemon can't just withhold this news! This should be the first item on the list. "But Chris!" Veemon was defensive at once. "They need to know. HIKARI needs—

The blond knelt, cupped the dragon's white muzzle, and forced their eyes to meet. "Vee, we're bringing **more** than just good news. _Remember_, they don't know anything about the Modifiers. The energy guns.

His voice became serious. "Leave the good news for last, got it? The last thing I want for them is to ignore the rest of the message and focus only on Taichi."

Veemon nodded. It made sense. As the bearers of news, both great and horrible, it was certain the latter would sap the morale of the leadership. The "core group", they were called. The dragon assumed Chris wanted to lay the bad on them first before presenting the good. It was a solid strategy, ripe with common sense. Nothing could top the one thing Veemon had on his tongue. This thought satisfied Veemon's craving for a reason behind Chris's recommendation, pacifying his agitation.

In fact, when he followed Christopher into the war room, he was expecting to see some old faces. This anticipation failed him, but only to an extent. As it were, sitting next to the stone table was Iori's grandfather, looking more like a prune compared to the last time he had seen the old man. Beside him was a complete stranger, but figured from the familiarity oozing from his body and the mere fact he was sitting in this room he was related to the Twelve somehow. Perhaps Veemon had even met him in the past.

It wasn't surprising the dragon wasn't well-versed with the families of the Twelve. If at all, the only ones he had truly come to know were Daisuke's, Miyako's, Iori's, and Ken's families. There was but a vague awareness of the first generation's brethren. Veemon would often forget who these people were. Despite his impressive recall, Veemon's photographic memory only recorded those that stood out to him, those that were _important_. The second generation aside, this was simply limited to the people he had worked with during his adventure ten years ago and beyond it.

His mind wandered when he caught Mantarou Inoue leaning on the rock wall. _I wonder if Miyako's sisters are here, too._ He recognized Ken's parents sitting opposite Chikara, gazing at them, shaking from pure impatience. Hikari and Tailmon, of course, had taken their seats among the audience. Shaken up by excitement and agitation to give them the REAL NEWS (i.e., Taichi's survival), Veemon found himself introducing the core group to the blond man without the latter's prompting. He shuffled in place, fidgeting, wanting to just come right out and say it.

Chris placed a hand on his shoulder as Hikari began introducing them to the core group. To his friends' families. Or at least, members of them. "Calm down," Chris cooed. Whether it was spoken out of a desire to silence him or out of genuine concern had been lost on the dragon, who was just too excited to think about it.

Only when Christopher Van Numen took the floor from Hikari did the Digimon of Miracles start seeing something wrong, something **seriously** wrong, in this discussion.

As far as he was concerned.

Veemon had been enthusiastic to talk before the group. After all, it wasn't everyday that he had the chance of speaking before leadership figures whenever it came to serious concerns. Back in the Digital World, his involvement with the Digital Monsters' strategy formulations was practically nix. Veemon was there out of the formalities accorded him by his status as a Chosen, but other than that he was sick of being pampered by one of Ken's Commandramon.

The battle at the Spire of Courage had been an act of defiance, a decision he himself made to at least show the Digimon Tactician he wasn't useless without Daisuke Motomiya by his side. Plus, it was an attempt to protect one of the few places that tied him down to his happy past from the DSI. Because he met Daisuke there. Because he met Christopher there, too.

To cope with his jealousy over Wormmon, Gomamon, Tentomon, and Armadimon's ongoing relationship with their partners, Veemon sought for nothing less except acknowledgement of his importance to the Digital Monsters, independent of his partnership to the Child of Miracles. But did he win this respect? Never. Most of the digimon fighting for Ken ridiculed him for his pro-human beliefs. The Digimon Tactician never told him what was going on in the Real World and kept him under lock and key for his own protection, especially after the Primary Village incident.

At the root of those frustrations was his anger towards Daisuke. Three years ago, the Child of Miracles left Veemon in the Digital World—_abandoned him_, as some of his "friends" in Ken's army jeered—for "his own good". Until now, he never understood why Daisuke thought it best to just leave him like that, why it was better that way, regardless of how **HE **personally felt about it.

Christopher was the first one to show him some respect through their friendship, however the attention he was getting from Ken and Wormmon—and now, Hikari and Tailmon—annoyed him to no end, almost as much as the fact Chris tended to attract doubts and distrust from Veemon's own friends and comrades.

And now what had happened to this respect?

The blond Veemon considered a close friend, the closest he ever had second only to Daisuke, was keeping him on a leash! He exercised—he **dominated** the meeting, refusing to let Veemon speak! Christopher was in control.

"How can _YOU_ succeed when a battle involving eighty of **our best **failed?" asked the fox digimon he met at the clinic. Irritation colored her response to Chris's blunt disposal of Shuu's concerns. Also present was a trace of disgust.

Veemon had some reservations when he watched Chris confiscate Shuu's AK-47 and beckon him to come. He already expected his request when he sauntered to him. "Disable the safety and empty the entire clip on me from that corner."

His voice irked him. It sounded more like a **command**, not a request! He and Chris were friends, but by no means did he have the right to order the Chosen around like a servant animal. Veemon was grossly insulted and it was apparent in the brief scowl that formed on his snout.

Christopher, for one reason or another, did not notice this. (Veemon refused to think he just ignored it!) He was absolutely engrossed in this meetup, intending to completely destroy all doubts by demonstrating his apparent immunity to all conventional weaponry the DSI would use on him.

Veemon doubted the choice. To him, it was a bad move. He already knew from the way Hikari and Tailmon reacted earlier that this exhibit would drive the wedge of distrust between Chris and the Digidestined, alienating him further. _It's like the Satellite Base all over again!_ The only difference between this moment and last week was Christopher's willingness to showcase his "unique abilities". One of them at least.

The blue dragon snatched the rifle when the blond handed it to him. "Chris, are you sure?" he murmured, casting a worried glance at the audience. A pair of crimson eyes was trained specifically on Hikari and Tailmon. His friend, for some inexplicable reason, definitely wasn't in their good books. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

"Veemon." Christopher used his full name when he was being austere. During moments like that, relenting was never an option and the man was uncompromising. Adamant. Whenever the blond did this, those goldenrod orbs of his blazed with the same ruthless intensity the Chosen vividly experienced during their first contact. "I didn't ask for your opinion." Deadpan. Somber.

A sigh escaped him. Resigned, "Don't say I didn't waaaaaaaarn youuuu…"

As expected, the reactions were tremendous. Veemon eyed Renamon, Tailmon, and Hikari carefully. Of all the members of their audience, these three responded the most to their little demonstration. Renamon spaced out. Hikari had been rendered mute for the moment. Tailmon's entire body quivered; he could see fear take root in her eyes. _I was afraid of this_.

"I can take anything the DSI will throw at me." Chris slammed his verbal finisher. "Anything." Everyone in the room was too dumbfounded to even retort. Veemon could relate to them; he too, wondered exactly what the blond was. That he knew a lot more about him than everyone else in this room was undeniable, yet the fact was Veemon was still just as clueless as most.

Christopher easily moved on to the new technology, focusing on Digital Modification. He gave them a crash course on the technology, relying on the little he knew from his discussion with Tina. Hearing him talk about it reminded Veemon of the losses the Digital Monsters incurred at the Spire of Courage last week. Many friends died that afternoon. Chris even slew one himelf.

Still, the blond did not understand how the digivices operated. Tailmon sought elucidation, but the only response she received was one any digimon could understand. Veemon would never realize how eerily Chris's answer echoed the way Commandramon understood the technology on their first encounter with the Modifiers.

Once the conversation shifted to combat, specifically weaknesses, limitations, and countermeasures, Veemon became giddy. He wanted to talk for once. To be the one telling the story! The blue dragon **was** the one who discovered the "physical contact" weakpoint in the first place; the battery power one was practically common knowledge anyway—the Midnight Assault's human assailants mentioned it a few times.

He volunteered his participation, responding to the weakpoint inquiry simultaneously with Christopher. Their eyes met afterward, and all the Digimon of Miracles could see was a stern, glacial stare. Those ruthless, intimidating eyes. Veemon shrank down before them, unable to withstand it.

Veemon just stood there like an accessory. How long had it been since the meeting started? Forty-five minutes now? An hour? And what the hell was he doing?

He was standing there, doing absolutely nothing but look like an idiot! A tagalong!

It was infuriating for the Digimon of Miracles to watch Chris _move on_ to æther without even giving the floor to **him** so he could inform the Digidestined about the Modifiers' potential—certain—connection with Daisuke! Surely there must be a link between this and his sudden disappearance. There had to be! The thought of it made Veemon wonder if his human half was still in Tokyo, for that matter. It's possible he could be in some secluded laboratory in the province. Or a prison. Tormented every day for the sake of scientific progress. (Conceiving this scenario made him shudder.)

Veemon clenched his fists. His entire body shook. Christopher was hogging the spotlight to himself. He was not going to relinquish it until he obtained his prize. Did he even intend to tell Hikari and Tailmon about Taichi afterwards? Would Chris bother giving Veemon the opportunity to speak?

_Saving the best for last? _Veemon now scoffed at the idea. It was all a trick to shut him up! Veemon couldn't take it anymore. He had absolutely no idea why the blond suddenly regressed to his old self, why he isolated himself from even the blue dragon, why his shell became impenetrable. At this point, he could care less! Chris was no longer giving him the respect he deserved (and wanted); he had to take matters into his own hands. _If you think you're getting away with this, Christopher, you can just suck it!_

The Chosen licked his lips and took a deep breath. _And I mean it. _He shut his eyes, scrunched his face, and without hesitation, accepting WHATEVER happened from that point onwards, blurted what he thought was the single, most important thing the Digidestined HAD to know **at all costs**! "TAICHI'S ALIVE!"

Veemon's outburst, declared in a tone heralding urgency and significance, released all the exasperation bubbling within his chest and, at the same time, literally stole the spotlight.

"W, what, what did you," Hikari's reflex was immediate. "**WHAT DID YOU SAY?**"

* * *

Hikari had risen from her seat, clamoring for Veemon to repeat his words. Christopher was just as dumbstruck as everyone else in the room, stupefied by the words rolling off the dragon's tongue.

"You heard me right, Hikari!" Streaming fervor and enthusiasm marked his words. "**TAICHI'S ALIVE!**" His childlike voice whined, reverberating multiple times in the war room. The echoes sounded in their ears multiple times, carrying the happiness embedded in it.

Tears drenched her coquelicot pools, flowing freely. It was as if a great burden fluttered away from her chest, relieving her of its arduous weight. She clasped her mouth, trying to suppress the cheerful gasps exuding from her.

Christopher ogled Veemon angrily. "Veemon!" A concise censure aimed at silencing him.

It was an **epic fail** on Chris's part.

Hikari Yagami watched the blue dragon sprint towards her before Chris could do anything else. He planted his feet on the stone table, ascending it. Veemon stood tall before her, his red eyes drilling into hers. The Digimon of Light was erect, eye to eye with the 21-year-old Hikari. "Chris and I ran into a Modifier during brunch today. An _ex-_Modifier."

"And you're going to say she told you about her brother?" queried Chikara Hida. Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon had fixed their stares at him. Everyone was looking at the astute senior. Had any of them turned to even glance at Christopher, they would've seen a relieved smirk gracing his face. Logic would trump emotions anyday when it came to strategy meetings. "It could've all been a li—

"**NO!**" Veemon roared, glowering at Iori's grandfather. That he was blessed with the erudition of age _and _the father figure of a fellow member of the Twelve was something he did not care. The old man dared to doubt his words when he knew _for sure_ Tina and Yoshino were telling the truth. "It's fact," he stressed. "Fact! Nothing **BUT**! We were with her younger sister and her Lalamon before she dropped in."

To end any counterattack, the Chosen slammed down his piece. "Almost _every _digimon I see in the city act like pets! Mindless slaves!" He glared directly into Chikara's beady eyes, pitting his impulsive instinct against the old man's ripened wisdom. Veemon pointed to his right arm and tapped the black triband strapped to the humerus. "That Lalamon was hidden in plain sight, just like me. I don't see why I must doubt a DSI soldier who keeps a _real_ digimon in her own home!"

The Digimon of Miracles peered at Christopher for a split-second. Hikari knew why he did this. It was during times like these when one needed support from a friend the most. Veemon _wanted_ verbal confirmation from the blond, or **anything** that would signify reinforcement! Hikari followed his gaze for a fleeting glance and discerned astonishment and anger clouding the man's goldenrod eyes.

From how Hikari knew Daisuke's digital half, Veemon would normally respond to this by mischievously sticking out his tongue and possibly contorting his face into the most repulsive and insulting one he could imagine. No man was immune to annoyance and exasperation. Given Veemon's rambunctious nature, it was only natural for him to enjoy irritating others.

His response was different. Veemon shook his head and sighed, refusing to register whatever the man was muttering from his side of the war room. Now that he had literally stolen Christopher's audience, the Digimon of Miracles resumed his speaking as if the blond was not there at all. As if his words were gone unheard.

This was an ostensible exhibition of his maturity, his personal growth. Now wasn't the time to be cheery and playful. Now was the time to be serious. Veemon may be adorably childish, but at 10 years of age, he had developed a trait not many thought he'd ever possess. Hikari gave her digimon partner a fleeting glance and caught her captivation. She had been as mesmerized by the dragon's atypically mature demeanor as Hikari herself was!

Tailmon's eyes radiated stupor, suggesting the Digimon of Light just experienced what humans sometimes called the "shattering of glass". A metaphor that perfectly described the feeling one sensed upon having a deep-seated preconception or outlook broken beyond repair.

Seeing the change in Veemon planted an idea in her thoughts. The blue dragon had matured significantly since the last time she had seen him in the Real World (as Chibimon). In contrast, what sort of development did Hikari undergo? When compared to the _growth_ Daisuke's partner went through, the past ten years—no, the last **six** years—had been harsh for her.

Six years ago. The year Miyako Inoue died. The year Taichi was deported from the United States as a _persona non grata_. The year governments around the world began implementing insidious policies calling for the gathering and confiscation of digimon and any digivices they were linked to. The year the Twelve began losing their credibility, the masses rallying a change to adopt the anti-monster rules other world governments espoused.

Since then Hikari _regressed_. She did not grow. She did not mature. Instead she contracted further into dependency. Then Takeru died. She and Taichi absconded their homes, disowned their family. Daisuke soon disappeared into oblivion. Ken, Iori, Joe, and Koushirou flew to the Digital World, never to return.

Just last night, Taichi had been reported killed. But Veemon returned. Daisuke was alive somewhere. Taichi had _survived_ whatever brought his operation to a bloody, gruesome end. Hikari clutched Veemon's shoulders, gripping them tightly, looking straight into his eyes. Their faces were so close she could feel, she could smell, his breath on her nose. "Tell me, where is Taichi? Where is he? I, **must**, know."

The Child of Light no longer cared for the consequences. She knew what had to be done. Taichi had to be rescued, extracted from the plight he was stranded in! To think the Digidestined, the core leadership, wouldn't bother supporting her was not speculation. It was the truth! Hikari wasn't going to let that stop her. As long as her loyal partner was by her side. That's all the younger Yagami needed. Rika and Renamon could easily succeed the empty vacuum of leadership, after all. They didn't need her.

But they needed Taichi.

_For once I'm doing the rescuing!_

Veemon had yet to answer her, startled by the direct request. Hikari's grip tightened. "Veemon, please. Where's my brother?"

Christopher approached the stone table. "Vee, forget it," he dissuaded. "It won't make a difference. Don't—

Hearing Chris's voice caused the dragon to jerk. The Chosen gazed at Chris for one last time. His childishness returned, remaining for one fleeting moment. He pulled his left eyelid down and stuck out his tongue. "Oh yes it will!" he rebelled defiantly. To finish the job, Veemon took a step in the blond's direction and gave his face a quick lick.

"Agh!" The man recoiled from the slobber, burying his face into the sleeve of his shirt, wiping the slime off his face.

Veemon exploited the distraction he just caused. "Taichi's in the holding cells near the South Gate."

The Child of Light scrunched her face, confused. "The South Gate?" _What the hell is that? I don't recall ever hearing something like it from previous recon missions…_

"Tina—the ex-Modifier—told me it's close to M&A's lowest level."

That's it. M&A. Military and Administration. The DSI's tower in Shinjuku. Taichi was somewhere in there, imprisoned. Hikair could merely wonder what torment the DSI was putting her older brother through.

"Exactly why it doesn't matter, Vee." Chris ogled him. His goldenrod eyes held only anger, yet the man was suppressing his fury. This act of diplomacy was impressive.

Chikara took his side. "He's right. There isn't an opening we can use for infiltration." Truth possessed the old man's words.

Masami Izumi provided the explanation. "Don't forget what happened to all the previous recon missions we made in that perimeter." How **could** Hikari forget? All reconnaissance initiatives involving the DSI's Shinjuku HQ ended in failure, their operatives slain by the tight security.

"And after _Operation: Pyramid_, for sure DSI's on full alert," Renamon bolstered. "Any security nexi we've taken out's probably replaced with mobile suppressors."

Chris's lips were curled into a haughty smirk. "Ha!" that grin seemed to say. "Both of you lose!"

However, the Child of Light simpered. The leer was so wide, Chris backpedaled one step. Hikari knew something **he** didn't. Something everyone else in this room was unaware of. What everyone said was easily addressed. She already had a way in. "There's something Taichi and I never told any of you."

All eyes were on her. "There's a secret passageway underneath the perimeter, leading **straight** into the center of the tower. It starts in the sewers close to Tetsugakudo Park, some distance from the DSI's perimeter."

Renamon, Chikara, and Masami were about to interrupt her when she raised her palm. "Let me finish," she ordered, her tone possessing the somber aura only a Yagami enjoyed. "You're probably thinking it's a setup. A trap. I know for a fact that it's not."

Nobody else responded.

"Tailmon investigated this tunnel and scoured it for any hidden cameras and sensors. If I recall correctly, Taichi monitored the surface for any activity." Hikari never went with them due to her brother's excessive overprotectiveness. Nonetheless, the Child of Courage at least had the courtesy to inform his younger sister of the events that transpired. Even if he didn't, Tailmon would've told her anyway, being Hikari's digital half.

Agumon couldn't have gone due to his insufficient agility. Tailmon had performed reconnaissance missions under Vamdemon before and her experience was useful for this situation. It was this mission that led Hikari to suspect Taichi's clandestine, business-related activities within the city, the very roots that led to their fated encounter in Daisuke's memorial.

Tailmon took over from this point onward, telling the audience how the tunnel eventually descended while twisting left and right underground. Taichi never reported any response from the DSI perimeter's security, and was wont to conjecture the tunnel _snaked_ through unseen cracks in the sensors keeping the perimeter free of all enemies and anomalies. It also confirmed the presence of a massive base underneath the enclosed area.

Kiriha raised his hand, being the first to speak. "So how'd you find out about this?"

Chikara nodded. "Agreed. Who's the informant?"

Hikari shook her head, addressing both queries. "We received a note in the lodge's mailbox. So it's definitely someone who _knew_ its connection to us, buuut," her voice trailed. How was she going to explain this? After the pause, "We never found out who the informant was. All we know is, it's someone in the DSI."

"Probably some authority figure high enough to have clearance for blueprints," supposed Tailmon.

"Strange thing is, we never received any tip-offs like that again. Like the informant just vanished."

Reason would only provide two conclusions. One, the informant's action had been discovered and was promptly sacked, probably tortured into absolute silence. Two, it was all a trap, something that was hard to believe considering the lack of cameras and the ability for digimon to sneak in undetected. Either way, entry using this tunnel was deemed too risky and its existence was consequently put aside.

Only in desperate situations would it ever be resurrected and brought to the core group's attention.

And now was one of those situations.

Veemon chimed, too excited to settle down. "Bottom line is, we need a party to leave **IMMEDIATELY!** Now's the perfect time to sneak in! Tina said the DSI incurred heavy losses last night and should've _lost_." Renamon ogled him in shock, her eyes dilating. "I don't know how they won," he surmised. "But at this point, we must exploit this before it's too late!" The Digimon of Miracles gazed at the Child of Light. "Right, Hikari?" he enquired, seeking confirmation. "Right?"

She gave him what he wanted. "Right."

.

.

.

_The Child of Light and her partner digimon note several changes that Veemon had undergone in the three years he had been absent from the Real World, even as their fear of Christopher Van Numen intensified, owing primarily to the distressing news he promulgated to the Digidestined's leadership. However, Veemon's frustration led to the declaration of Taichi's status. Chris loses the control he enjoyed. Hikari, along with everyone else presiding over this conversation, is filled with hope, an opening the Digimon of Miracles exploited the moment it presented itself. Hikari's knowledge of the secret tunnel into the DSI's M&A Wing was a solid boost for their case, easily overturning the blond's attempts to regain control of the situation.  
_

_How will the meeting play out, now that the spotlight has turned on Veemon? Moving on to a more pressing concern, who exactly gave Taichi the information about the secret tunnel. What could be possibly meant by the one-time correspondence? What does this imply about the global organization? _

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[4] Next chapter is the long-awaited _Priorities_. SERIOUSLY, I have been deferring that baby for how many times now? Four? One for the _Butterfly Effect II_, two for _Defusal_, three for _Guilty_, and now four for this bastard that is my current update. It really makes me wonder how long my second story arc is going to be, considering we're a step closer to the wonderful battle chapters. Hopefully the action will begin by chapter 19 or 20.

[5] Don't expect the update to be quick. Making sure everything is natural and fluid is something I am serious about and I want to make sure one of the key scenes of my story is an emotive one. Plus, I'm doing some work for my aunt. MS Excel work. VLOOKUP functions and the like. A guy's got to earn money somewhere if he can't find work easily. ("Hard to find work" due to tunnel vision, _idum est_, being overly focused on what YOU want to do as a professional. I've always thought that working in positions that don't offer the right advancement opportunities for my personal aspirations was something that would lead to an easy job burnout. A childish thought, really, since ultimately one's determination to go somewhere would eventually lead them to their intended destination in life. This paradigm was something I recently snapped out from, regrettably. *shakes head*)

[6] If I get any, truncated responses to reviews will be placed down here as usual. :)

**Coop97**: Hopefully you won't wait long. Chapter 18 is already 95% complete, and I just have to write its ending, then proofread the entire thing. [2 MAR 2011 EDIT: Actually, it's already complete. Just need to proofread it...]

**Rets**: Well, "a lot" didn't happen because of the way I split the chapters. Originally, I was going to post the whole thing, but ever since the word count struck 20K, I decided to splice it in twine. I don't want anyone to skim through the meeting with the Digidestined's leadership. Not when a very notable event was intended to occur during the discussion. Obviously, I won't spoil you (or anyone of my readers) about the next chapter. :)

BTW, as for Veemon wielding the AK-47, I think his innate strength and size make it feasible. Remember, my story takes place 10 years after the BelialVamdemon battle, and anyone who pays attention to the OMGWTF-but-canon ending of _Zero Two_ will notice the blue dragon had grown enough to keep his height at Daisuke's waist level, albeit a 30+ year old Daisuke's waist level. That puts Veemon's full height at roughly three feet. (Besides, ever heard of children soldiers? I had seen pictures in the newspapers a couple of times, depicting kids about 12 years of age wielding assault rifles. Vee's strength is obviously greater than a human child would be, so I think it puts things into perspective.)

**RazenX**: Thanks. That's the impression I was going for when I wrote Veemon's POV. You're definitely going to see more of this come next chapter. You won't wait long for it. _Priorities _is already in the proofreading stage, and I intend to post it within three days. Now that I think about it, I wonder what my readers are expecting to happen in the update... hihihihi. ^^


	18. Priorities

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] Originally, the word count approximated **12,200**. However, after the June/July 2013 revision of this chapter, this word count no longer applies. **It is currently standing at ****22,530**.

[2] _It Was You_ and _Savior_ by 12 Stones and 30 Seconds to Mars were the songs I was listening to when I first wrote this chapter. Not only were they awesome, but also they helped me concentrate on the key point which was that Christopher had done a lot for Veemon in the previous 17 chapters. That's significant considering they aren't partners to begin with.

[3] _Priorities_ is a defining moment of the second story arc, but it was also one I've been **wanting to write** since I had finished writing Chapter 8 way back. Any feedback is very much welcome here.

[4] On 10/6/2012, I reread the chapter while writing chapters 23 to 25, and noticed a lack of quality here. _Priorities_ is one of the main turning points in the storyline, and is an _emotional _chapter to boot. Given the events occurring here, significant improvement is clearly needed and I decided to rewrite the chapter much in the same way I rewrote chapters 9 and 10.

[5] This rewrite began on June 2013. I have rewritten the chapter from the very beginning. Although the revised _Priorities_ still moves in the same direction it did originally, I have added new scenes and expanded the narrative and dialogue in most of the chapter in order to enhance reader immersion and, more importantly, **properly** portray the characters as I had originally intended. This point cannot be more accentuated.

[6] And without further ado, I present the rewritten _Priorities_. Enjoy. :3

* * *

Christopher Van Numen had been stabbed right in the back.

Everything had been going so smoothly in one second. For the most part, he was dominating this meeting with the core group, spreading the situation on the table. He began first with the threat of Digital Modification, then proceeded to the ways the DSI compensated for its weaknesses, leading them directly to æther and all the problems it entailed.

From then on it was child's play to manipulate the core group into giving him the information he wanted: everything the Digidestined knew about the DSI's Research and Development Wing.

That's what would've happened if Veemon didn't just suddenly interrupt Christopher mid-speech and ejaculate the news on Taichi right as his audience was being conditioned.

Damn it! Veemon should've been suppressed by now. That impetuosity shouldn't have been there. That impulsive desire to inform the core group about Taichi's status was supposed to be gone.

Now everything was in pandemonium. Chris' grasp over them all was spiraling out of control. His audience was ignoring him. Veemon no longer responded to his words, defying them all to shift the focus to Taichi, to local affairs Christopher considered _distracting_ at worst. To the blue dragon, Christopher was "seen but not heard".

Did Veemon realize what he just did? Was the Chosen even aware of the dangers, of the risks that came with crossing the blond? Had the Digimon of Miracles been anyone else, anyone from this universe that wasn't a two-foot tall, flightless dragon with the voice and innocence of a maturing child, he would've been DEAD! Killed right on the spot! Christopher Van Numen would've grabbed the offender's throat and crushed it into paste for this insolent dismissal.

Already the man's hands were quaking. Shivering in rage and fury. He was angry at Veemon's rude interruption. He was angry at his defiance. Angry at the way he captivated Hikari Yagami, seducing her and the core group, all at the same time, as soon as Taichi's name came out of his snout. He didn't want this. He wasn't even expecting this to begin with!

The urge to kill the Digimon of Miracles was strong. To be done with the problem by deleting Veemon and terrorize everyone into giving him the information he needed… that didn't sound too bad at all. And with everyone else glued to his muzzle, supplying the Chosen with mesmerized attention, it was as easy as either shooting him in the back of the skull with his gun, or lopping off the lizard's head as suddenly as he had the gall to ejaculate all over his control and steal it away.

There was simply no need to worry about the repercussions. The Digidestined—the Chosen—whatever they were called were not powerful enough to fight back. Sure, they could resist. They had these monsters. They probably had guns of their own, too, yet it was all a futile effort. Like a harmless bee trying to sting a giant hundreds of times its diminutive size.

No.

After having one week to recuperate, to them he was the most massive of mountains. Impassable. Unmovable. Imposing and intimidating, administering judgment without prejudice.

Yet…

He couldn't.

However strong the urge was, however Christopher was **tempted** to slay the blue dragon in one acrimonious backstab of his own, he **couldn't do it**. His body _refused_ to move. His thoughts were _clouded_ with hesitation, paralyzed by memories of bonding with Veemon for a week, of supporting him through the ordeals and agony he suffered in his first day here in the Real World.

This reluctance appalled him. How? How could he have trouble killing someone much, _much_ weaker than him when he'd have done so many times over? When he'd deceived others into trusting him and disposed of them the instant they were no longer useful? How the hell could that happen?

Christopher knew what their objectives were. He knew what to do for the greater good. The longer he lingered here, the more likely Felicia and her masters—and the Specter!—would track him down to this universe and finish him off… or force him to relive those moments again, to experience a tragedy horrifyingly similar to Sally's and Ivan's deaths. Identical in almost all respects… except for the people.

He imagined Veemon being slaughtered by that _bitch_ right before his eyes while she gloated about his weakness, broke him down with lances of scorn, every single one of them laden with that one inescapable truth—

No! This wasn't his fate! There was no such thing as destiny. He was free to direct his life, free to will his way to the normal life he voraciously yearned for. Altering his so-called "fate" and unveiling his adversaries' true goals took precedence **above **everything else. Whatever heinous acts he'd do to accomplish this would never matter in the long run. Never!

Because he was a hero.

A hero willing to do whatever it took to fulfill his mission.

_The ends justify the means_.

He activated the Realm Scanner, but he had shut his eyes as he done so, if only to make sure he maintains the element of surprise. All he had to do now was materialize a weapon and snuff out the life of that damn lizard standing on the table like a target SCREAMING TO BE KILLED!

Yet Christopher couldn't. He just couldn't. It kept nagging at him, dragging him down, and all he could see in his mindscape was Veemon clinging to him like a lost child, clamoring for his support, and smiling so adorably in gratitude for merely being there for him when he needed someone the most.

The blond's mind refused even the thought of knocking the little guy unconscious. There was something about Veemon that made him untouchable. Something that invoked so much guilt it _paralyzed_ him. He could barely sense the connection between the two of them, yet it was strong enough to prevent Chris from drawing out the strength to send the Digimon of Miracles to oblivion.

"Go for dissuasion," he felt. Do something that didn't go for violence, it directed.

Christopher Van Numen grumbled. Veemon should be thankful he was forgoing his typical method to solving seemingly insurmountable problems. "Vee, forget it," he fought him head on. "It won't make a difference. Don't—

Veemon revolted. "Oh yes it will!" A fast and strong licking followed his reply, done so suddenly and discordantly Chris recoiled from the odor of spoiled mayonnaise filtering into his nose, stepping backwards with his face drenched in slimy dragon slobber.

What was normally a gesture of affection had become a gesture of flippancy in this context. Another form of dismissal.

So much for the pacific solution.

What happened? Where was this hostility coming from?

Chris pondered over it when Veemon resumed his dialogue without skipping a beat. The Digimon of Miracles was furious at him. Somehow… somehow he unearthed the blond's true intentions during the meeting and, in his rashness, took control away from him and seized the spotlight with the full intent of promulgating what was good news for the Digidestined.

But did this news even matter in the first place? Taichi Yagami was in Military and Administration. Everything Chris sought was in Research and Development. Either way, both he and Veemon were separating after this discussion. That was non-negotiable, no matter how strong their friendship was. They were not family. They were not partners. The "bond" they shared bore no similarities to the kinship Christopher shared with the people who traveled the multiverse with him, sacrificed their lives for him. There was absolutely no reason for Veemon to assume the blond would forgo his own ambitions and voluntarily enslave himself to the aspirations of another.

And without the support of someone capable of standing up to and spitting on all the resistance the DSI had to offer…

"Exactly why it doesn't matter, Vee," retorted Chris once Veemon disclosed Taichi's current location: underneath the very base the Digidestined attempted to take over last night.

He grinned when the only senior in the group sided with him. Cold logic was winning here. Whatever Veemon wanted wasn't going to happen. Another adult was soon against them as well. It felt so vindicating to watch the real adults here crush the hopes of the innocent youth.

A smirk plastered on his face, the blond ogled Hikari Yagami. He expected to see disappointment flaring on the Child of Light, only to find a grin wider than his own.

She knew something _he _didn't. As soon as she said "a secret passageway", the core group bristled at the knowledge a select few withheld from even their relatives and family. Yet the Chosen Child fielded their rebuttals, each and every single one.

Veemon was jumping up and down, tail wagging profusely from sheer happiness. Agog, "Bottom line is, we need a party to leave **IMMEDIATELY**!"

The reasons were all there. It was the perfect time, the dragon appended. The DSI was still reeling from heavy losses and he was cocksure they weren't in any position to fend off an infiltration mission. "Besides," Veemon was chuckling, "if that tunnel _really_ led into M&A, then we're probably walking into its infrastructure or something. No security there, I think."

His optimism and cheer were infectious. They were viral, spreading into the broadening smiles of the core group. Shuu Kido flashed his pearly whites, now caked yellow by the lack of professional care, and presented Veemon a thumbs-up for his approval. The rest of the adults? Even **they** were showing the signs of concurrence. Of agreement.

_This, this isn't happening!_ The worst case scenario was unfolding before his goldenrod eyes and Chris couldn't stop it. Veemon's enthusiasm governed the momentum, poisoning the audience. The blond was certain his voice no longer had the power it did before, just as he was certain he was too **gutless** to rectify the situation and turn it around the way he normally would.

Chikara Hida, the only senior in the group, stroked his chin before giving his reply. "There are some things that concern me…"

"What?" Hikari asked.

"How many will participate in this operation?"

Veemon raised his hand, keeping all but the pinky finger up. "Four. We only need four."

Even Masami blanched. "Just **four**? You're heading into the DSI HQ with only **four** people?"

"And so?" The blue dragon responded with an odd look of his own. "It took only three guys to sneak into Ken's base, wipe the command center clean, and **almost** kill me and Stingmon if it wasn't for Chris here." Scarlet eyes gazed at the man. Veemon nodded to credit him for their survival, for their successful defense.

He was smiling. That expression alone was enough to convince Christopher there was absolutely no way he could force himself to kill him.

"Trust me, Chris can do a **LOT** of things."

In normal circumstances, the tone and the emphasis impregnating this sentence would certainly instigate multiple connotations, each one possibly condemning or staining Chris' social image. Even as a ten-year-old the Digimon of Miracles still had much to learn about the subtleties of human communication.

Within the context of this meeting, it relinquished the need to expound further. If immunity to bullets was merely _one_ of Chris' abilities, there's no telling what else he was capable of! With that point clarified, Koushirou Izumi's stepfather retreated, knowing he had been beaten. "I see," he murmured.

The blond ogled him. _I know what you're thinking_. He panned his gaze across the entire room. They stole brief glances at him, furtive, but all the more revealing in their eyes' constant dilations and their rapid heartbeats._ I know what you're ALL thinking_.

Christopher Van Numen could change the war. He could overturn the tides and swing everything into their favor. Yes, he could lead the Chosen Children and their Digidestined group to victory by throwing his lot in with them, decimating the Digital Suppression Initiative and obliterating any and all opposition with his superhuman abilities alone.

What was he to them? A charity case? Or for God's sake, an upbeat **superhero**? An untold, messianic figure? Did he show up in this universe out of the blue to save them all from their hardships? From the difficulties of working with humanity? Of gaming the complex system called society?

It was clear to everyone who exactly the Chosen had in mind: Veemon, this girl and her giant kitty-cat, and Christopher himself. Seconds later the dragon digimon articulated his name _exactly as expected_. He was afraid of this. By mere association alone he was already being dragged into a mess he wanted no part of.

Already they were talking about their mission with respect to the Digital Dive System. "It's great we have this Orange Box, but it'll be even better if you guys take out the DDS," advised Masami. "Something that powerful won't be rebuilt in a week."

Veemon beamed. "Ayt! Then we'll just take some C4's from your armory."

Everyone looked at him as though someone as bubbly and childish as Veemon shouldn't even **know** what these devices were. The fact he knew how to hold and fire a gun was surprising enough.

Christopher, however, did not notice this. He clenched his fists until they trembled. _Damn you, Vee! I won't waste my time like this any longer!_

How did it end up this way? Was it because he tried to keep Veemon under control? Was it because he did his utmost best to keep the Digimon of Miracles silent? Should he have just admitted his intentions to Veemon? That he wanted to leave him behind at Mt. Fuji? In the care of his real friends? That Chris truly did not care about the Chosen's affairs?

He should've said it! That way he wouldn't even be involved in this! Then he realized he still had the opportunity to inform Veemon. The opportunity to even KILL HIM. So why couldn't Christopher do any of those now? Why? Why?

It was that stupid question again. That question always floating in his head since the day his family was murdered before his eyes, since the day his past caught up to him and turned him into a fugitive traversing multiple worlds, seeking only salvation and self-preservation. How the mighty have fallen, indeed.

Why?

* * *

Hikari swept the blue dragon in a hug and kissed his white cheek. "Thank you!" she said. The words alone were powerful. Veemon blushed from the appreciation and had to wave his hand to dismiss the goofy smile on his muzzle, with no success whatsoever.

"It's okay," he was saying. "What're friends for?"

From the way he tried to downplay what he just did, it seemed like Veemon didn't understand her happiness, or was simply incapable of comprehending it.

Losing Taichi in Operation: Pyramid devastated her. The straw that broke the camel's back. He was the last thing the world could take away from her, she who had lost everything she loved throughout the past ten years. She who had been broken by the degeneration of humanity, the systematic exploitation of the digital monsters she considered family.

Had he had truly died last night, that would have been the end, for Hikari has already lost her dreams, her professional career, and her loved ones as a direct consequence of upholding her obligation, her duty as the Chosen Child of Light. There would have been no more reason for her to live, to carry on. It was almost scary to reflect on what she might have done next, on what she might have become.

For bringing the light back in Hikari's coquelicot eyes and for encouraging the woman to cling more strongly to the remnants of the sweet girl she had been known to be, her embrace tightened for a few more seconds. She didn't want to let go just yet. She wanted Veemon to know how grateful she was for—

"C, can't… breathe…"

Hikari squeaked in reply before releasing the blue dragon from her asphyxiating hug. Her digital half was giggling in the background, amused at his expense. Her tittering was cute, and only a trained ear could hear the vibrant purring each hearty laugh carried.

Tailmon had not laughed like this in a long time.

With Veemon out of her clutches, slouching on his knees gasping for breath, the Child of Light felt Mantarou Inoue touch her shoulder. "So what's your plan?" He fixed his glasses and eyed the blond man standing in place, frozen to his spot for some inexplicable reason. Silent and unresponsive. "With him like that, it's practically you leading the group."

Thinking it a compliment, "Don't flatter me, Manta. I'm not a born leader like my brother."

"You're just lacking confidence."

Her smile faltered. "That's not…"

"Taichi had always been overprotective, you **know** that, and all that crap life gave you after the Shinjuku March certainly didn't help." Miyako's brother held her shoulders, his grip firm, their eyes locked onto each other. Almost as though the man was seeing his younger sister through them. "But I know you can do this. You're a _Yagami_, too."

"I…" She couldn't find anything to rebut him, really. "I… I guess…"

"So seriously, what **is** your plan? This isn't something you can whip up on the field."

Hikari scratched her head. All the Chosen had on her was a vague idea of their strategy. First, they needed to get there. Nefertimon—Tailmon's Armor form—was the quickest mode of transport. Her swift velocity capped their travel time to 2½ hours. Second, they needed to mentally prepare themselves and wait for the appropriate time to infiltrate. Only a fool would commence the mission on arrival and prudence called for caution, diligence, and a focus on stealth. The best time to dive in was the time even the guardsmen on duty were susceptible to the ubiquitous sands of sleep.

Here, Renamon had a suggestion. "Try a few hours after midnight. Three in the morning would do well." Hikari had faith in her offer; the yellow fox was skilled in covert operations, after all.

Hearing that, they better have swallowed a ton of coffee and energy drinks to keep them awake by the time the mission begins.

"But where will we stay?" ruminated Veemon.

Hikari concurred. Like the blue dragon, the Chosen Child had no idea who were either honorary members of the Digidestined, or sympathetic to their cause. The reasons were identical, yet their roots vastly different. Veemon had been stranded in the Digital World for the past three years. The Child of Light had been locked away in safety by her overprotective brother, restricted solely to the stronghold and the lodge.

The point was, they knew nobody beyond the base.

Thankfully, Kiriha Ichijouji did. "Tetsugakudo Park's in Nakano, isn't it? I know someone who lives nearby."

Hikari's lips curled into the sweet smile both Daisuke and Takeru loved. "You do?"

"Yup," replied Kiriha. "Janyu Li. A programmer."

Tailmon supplied a question. "Is he friendly to us?" Hikari could tell from her voice alone she doubted this Janyu's trustworthiness.

"He's the one who made the software we use to mess with those tribands," reasoned Kiriha. He stretched his neck, keeping his eyes on Tailmon throughout."He's got a couple of tamers for kids, too. Ken met his son Jianliang some years ago and—oh!" Laughter ensured. "Was I rambling? Sorry 'bout that." A pad of Post-It notes and a pen appeared from his pocket. Ken's father twirled the pen, displaying some dexterity. Then he jotted down some Chinese characters on it before passing it on to the Child of Light, both hands gripping the tiny paper: a habit common among the Japanese and Chinese people. "Here's the address. I don't think it'll be hard to find."

"Thanks," bowed Hikari.

"It's almost 9:30," apprised Ayumi, shooting a glance at her wristwratch. "You'll need to leave soon."

Chikara worried the four infiltrators wouldn't be well-prepared for this last-minute operation. "Don't forget to prepare!" insisted the old man. "You don't know **what** to expect once you're in."

"You can find the C4's in the armories near the combatants' quarters," apprised Masami in more detail.

Veemon leaped off the stone table. "Guess we better go!" he said. He tapped Chris's stomach as he made his way to the curtain. "Let's go, Chris!"

Seeing how Veemon was comfortable and relaxed around Chris worried Hikari. How was she going to separate them? Veemon's **too** friendly with the blond, and to force them apart was a difficult task. Maybe impossible. He didn't seem to be the type to believe in dreams and prophetic visions. Christopher Van Numen was a man of logic like her brother, and people so inclined to pragmatism weren't likely to put heavy weight on dreams, however ominous.

Though he would never admit it, the Digimon of Miracles was most likely using the man as a crutch. A stand-in for Daisuke Motomiya. It wasn't speculation so much as it was a reasonable expectation with near-absolute confidence. Why else would the blue dragon leave the relative safety of the Digital World in search for his surrogate brother, putting his life in a complete stranger's willingness to protect and help him at the expense of his own agenda?

He must've been **that** desperate! So how could she break them up? What could force the two to split up? Or better yet, cease this little relationship they have here?

Finding no answers within her immediate grasp, the Chosen Child opted to focus on the present instead. Maybe she could think about these things on the way to the Nakano Ward.

Shuu Kido intercepted Hikari and her digital half, stopping their stroll to the thick curtain. "Good luck out there," he whispered, bidding his farewell and best wishes.

Tailmon thumped her chest. "I'll protect her," she promised. "Don't worry." Her crystal blue eyes snuck a peek at the holy ring wrapped around her tail. It glistened in the lighting, reminding everyone around them that she was currently at her full power as an Adult digimon, unlike ten years ago when she had lost her tail ring to an enslaved Unimon. "I'm not as bulletproof as blondie over there, but I'm agile, strong, and quick on my feet."

Veemon had continued walking during their interruptions, but Hikari and Tailmon quickened their pace to catch up with him. The younger Yagami was right about to slide the curtain open when the blue dragon stopped in his tracks."Veemon?" her partner called. "What's wrong?"

The Digimon of Miracles gyrated and cast his scarlet eyes on the only person missing from the group. Coquelicot orbs followed the dragon digimon's gaze until they landed on Christopher Van Numen, who still idled in place. His fists were clenching tightly, quivering. His back faced them, revealing to all three that it was shaking from trepidation. _What's with him?_

"Chris!" Veemon ran over to Chris and took hold of the man's hands. "C'mon," he was yanking him their way. "Chris, we're heading out." He pulled again. "We'll rescue Taichi tonight and…"

This time he realized the man was not moving at all. Christopher's face had a pensive but anxious expression. He was lost in his own world, and Veemon was starting to worry, as his drooping tail implied. "Chris?" He crossed his arms and ogled his friend with a pout on his snout, before walking to the man's front and climbed his body as though he was a rock wall. Hands gripped Christopher's clothing and raised Veemon up until he could set his feet on his waist, balancing on a belt, where he was high enough to stare directly into those goldenrod eyes, close up.

An azure, leathery hand swayed in front of him. "Heeellloooooo?" It was almost funny to see him give Chris' head a light tap, much like a nut. "You there?"

No response again.

Veemon looked over his shoulder. "Errrrr, Yailmon, he's spaced out. Any tips?"

Before either she or Hikari could respond, the dragon's eyes nictated. His mouth opened wide and twisted into a gaping rictus, prompted by a great idea fillig his head. "OOOOOH!" One could already imagine a light shining down on him.

The "great idea" in question was a crude one. He planted his feet on Chris's torso and kicked off his vest. Grace distinguished Veemon's landing from the blond's unceremonious fall.

"OOF!"

"Hey, it worked!"

Both Hikari and Tailmon facepalmed. Some aspects of Veemon would **never change **no matter how tall he grew. Regardless of how much he matured.

* * *

Christopher was rooted to the spot as memories of the recent past swirled in his head. Images from the Space Between Worlds, carved into his mind's eye by the Realmdrifter. Visions of Sally's sacrifice and the completion of Ivan's death were keen on assaulting him, and instead of those token words the priestess had given him in her final farewell, from her mouth came forth a statement echoing his deep-seated feelings reverberating within his subconscious.

"_You're just scared_."

It used her voice. It used her admonishing tone. A deeper cadence, though unmistakably feminine in pitch. Chris' conscience manifested in auditory hallucinations, nagging at him, thrusting its pointed end at him where it hurt the most.

But the words sounded so real. It was as though Sally Xyphard stood beside him, watching over him, observing every mistake, every impulsive action he did. She was calling out his fear. Urging him to stop running away. He had to face his fear head on. Cease this pathetic display of self-pity! Embrace the present and fall back on the beliefs he fought for once upon a time, for he was a hero.

Christopher Van Numen had an obligation to help those in need wherever he went. It was his **duty **to be a friend for those who needed one, and it meant sucking it up and facing the consequences of intervention like a man. Help Veemon. Stand by him. Reunite him with his partner. Resolve the conflict between men and monsters. Focus on the inherent good hidden beneath the veneer of all life.

But the blond was too weak. He was too **afraid**. Despite all the power in his grasp, despite possessing the strength many among Veemon's friends would give up so much for, Christopher could not move on. His goldenrod eyes would not—would **never** let him forget how Sally died. He remembered her dying body. He remembered the blow she took for him. He remembered those wonderful cerulean eyes of hers gradually losing color, transforming into a colorless, bottomless black.

Her farewell still lingered in his ears, and until now Chris felt on his face the slick blood of his beloved, of a companion he had come to love after traveling with him for so long, from universe to universe in this godforsaken journey.

"_Why were you hugging me?"_

The thought of Sally returned Christopher to that morning—to the awkward question the blue dragon asked him at the motel. Veemon's warmth was still prickling his arms, accompanying the feel of smooth and soft leather that any troubled person would find calming and therapeutic. The nightmares weren't so bad when he had a friend to lean on, but he knew the comfort and relaxed feeling wasn't going to last forever. Not without a wake-up call reminding him of the illusion Chris so carefully wrapped himself around in.

He did not answer what was an obviously stupid question from the onset. Instinct had told him Veemon already knew why. Veemon already knew he had problems. A burden weighing down on him, slowly destroying who he was until a jaded shell was left. He wanted the blond to just open up and nurture the friendship in a gesture of mutual reciprocation.

Yet it was simply too dangerous. Christopher Van Numen was an outsider. He could never run away from that. To involve Chris was to summon a tornado of unprecedented change. Of consequences unknown. _"YOU'RE JUST SCARED!"_

"Chris…"

A light breeze caressed his face. The man did not respond. "Heeeellllooooo?" Someone tapped his forehead. Twice. "You there?"

His ears heard the words, but his mind was somewhere else, wrestling with itself. The guilt took on the voice of his beloved priestess, suggesting it was already too late for him to turn back, urging the blond to reconsider the decision he had made.

It was the right thing to do.

Wasn't it?

"Err, Tailmon, he's spaced out. Any tips?"

Christopher quivered defiantly. He refused to give in. Even if it _was_ the right thing to do at the moment, he rationalized, everything would be all for **naught** if it resulted in the scenario he feared the most, no matter WHAT he did. Yes, he wasn't giving in. Because he KNEW what'd happen if he did! Because he was cognizant of what remained relevant to the big picture.

History was a soulless creature. It conveniently forgot—overlooked—the fundamental wrongness, the **inequity** of any single action so long as the results were worth it. Only social beings living in the here and now gave a damn about the morality behind every little action. The real world only condemned actions if they did not do something to upset the status quo and push it to a state more favorable, more productive, more "just", no matter how bloody was the masonry of the past.

Just as it was his responsibility to do what was right, so was it his duty to prevent the balance from spiraling down the point of no return. To preempt the catastrophe that would surely happen for involving him, for letting an _outsider_, an entity of _tremendous_ potential, cast lots into this game. The status quo had already changed, but who's to say he wasn't too late? Who had the right to outright tell Christopher Van Numen there was no longer a window of opportunity to make his escape and stop it all? To nip the problem in the bud.

This was **his** responsibility. **His **responsibility alone. If Christopher needed to murder someone to preserve the balance, he would do it. If it involved raping a young woman, he would do it without hesitation, no matter how torn apart he'd be inside before, during, and after the deed.

Why should he even hesitate? Countless lives were already bringing down their cumbersome weight on the blond's shoulders. He singlehandedly brought the destruction of thirty million people the night his journey began. He had _doomed _an entire planet for the First Realmstone Fragment. What were a few more lives, perhaps as little as the number of fingers he had or as much as a couple thousand or ten, if he could save many more times that much, if he could spare change from those who weren't ready for it?

Another question shook the blond to the core. _What if Veemon had to die too? _

Before Christopher could find the answer to this disturbing possibility, he was distracted by a slight pain on his chest, followed by disorientation and the downward pull of gravity. The impact his back made on the cavern floor knocked the man back to real life. "OOF!" His torso throbbed, and oddly enough he pinpointed it two spots on his pectorals, as though a couple of feet were the cause of his tumble—

"Hey, it worked!" Veemon was squatting next to him. A white claw on his index finger poked the man's cheek. "Everything okay?" He asked. "You zoned out! Didn't do or say anything no matter what." Veemon stared at him in the eye. "There something on your mind?"

Concern wrapped the dragon's words. A concern Christopher did not need—**did not **deserve. It reminded the blond of the friendship he shared with the Chosen. A friendship he did not—no, a friendship he **could** not want.

"_You are a curse_," Felicia's cold declaration did not leave him after all this time. It had chosen to remain dormant, only to resurface when he needed a wake-up call. _"Bringing tragedy wherever you go."_

Shuu Kido's request reached his ears like a ghost, a whisper in the dim light around him, asking him to take care of Veemon. Goldenrod eyes eyed the elder Kido, visualizing the man's lips moving, mouthing the words reverberating in his mind. Did this request last until Daisuke was found? Or for as long as he and the blue dragon were together… friends?

Shuu had told him about Jun Motomiya, recounting how the price of her happiness was too high. Insurmountable. It was the price of sacrifice, obligating one to protect the other, for mere association with a member of the Digidestined exposed her to risk, multiplying the fact she herself was sister to one of the most prominent Chosen Children in the world.

Shuu could not fulfill his duty and chose to end everything instead. _"It was necessary!" _the man had screamed at Christopher, as though he himself needed to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Had Chris done the same for Ivan—had Chris done the same for Sally, would they still be alive right now? Would they be enjoying the lives Christopher had given back to them, for being there at the right time and for supporting them when they needed it?

A hug snapped Chris out of his thoughts again. Somehow the dragon digimon had pulled him into a sitting position, presumably using his vest to hoist him up, and glomped him without warning. "Say something, Chris. You're worrying me. What're you thinking of?"

They locked eyes. Veemon's crimson pools were brimming with a strange mixture of urgency, worry, and a desire to help. "Is it the mission? Is it 'cause it's just the four of us? 'Cause we're going for Taichi?"

What was he seeing? Who did he think Christopher was? What did he believe _his_ objectives were?

"We gotta go rescue Taichi, _now_, while we still can," the Digimon of Miracles reasoned. "He's our best bet to winning this war! We don't know where Daisuke is, but if we're lucky, we can learn somethi—

Christopher Van Numen heaved a sigh.

"Chris?"

Veemon blinked at him several times, confused and perplexed. The blond's goldenrod spheres shuddered at the thought of what he was about to do now. This was the first time he was going to do this to someone he met during his journey. Someone he had become close to in a short span of time.

He didn't know what Sally would've wanted him to do here. He didn't know how Ivan, with all his excessive masculinity and macho attitude, would go about this disconnect.

But one thing was clear: if he did this, chances were high Veemon would never have to suffer like everyone before him. Those who chose to rely on outside characters and paid the price for their intervention.

This was a decision he hoped he would not come to regret later. Shuu Kido certainly did not show remorse for his choice after all.

Christopher Van Numen gently pushed Veemon away from him, breaking the hug and setting the little dragon a couple paces away. The line had to be drawn from here on out.

He gave his reply.

Five words.

_Shuu Kido gazed directly at Christopher. Black met goldenrod. Man to man. "It was the right thing to do. I'd rather live with her hatred."_

It was just five words.

Veemon's muzzle popped open. His jaw dropped, aghast. His scarlet eyes shrunk, turning into ponds of pale white. He was horrified. "W, W, WHAAATT?" the Chosen stammered.

The space around them was suddenly filled with an awkward aura. It choked him. It killed the warmth and friendliness exuded by the blue dragon, leaving behind a nervousness he tried to banish with a few chuckles.

None of them worked.

He swallowed, those red spheres still shimmering in the war room's dim light. "You… you're—you're joking. Right?" He trembled. His voice was becoming pitched, sort of like a whine. It _was_ a whine. "R-right?"

Veemon stepped forward. "H-hey." His hand plopped down on Chris' arm. "Hey." Paralyzed by shock and astonishment, his mind barely processed what was happening. "What's going on with you? Come—c'mon, a-an, answer me. Christopher. Please…"

The Digimon of Miracles found his expressive gesture rejected. The blond shoved his hold away violently, forcing the digimon to retreat a few paces. Unused to such harsh treatment from him. "Wha—

Christopher did his best not to look at the hurt frown forming on Veemon's snout, not to pay any attention to the downward curl of his mouth and the sad bleating he was making. "I'll say it again."

This time, Chris gave Veemon the "glare". The intimidating gaze that stunned many of the digimon in the Satellite Base, that scared them away, that made them run away with their tails behind their backs, fleeing for dear life. The very same gape he used for anyone who obstructed him. For _enemies_ he'd kill without a moment's hesitation.

Veemon may have been untouchable. Impossible to kill, even now. But that did not mean Chris was helpless against this psychological barrier. There was still a solution to change the course of events, to throw the fate of this innocent, naïve digimon off the cursed path.

Thus conviction highlighted his voice when Chris repeated those five words to drive them deep into Veemon's skull.

"I won't be joining you!"

* * *

Veemon, stupefied and speechless, had nothing to say to that. He was stunned. He was shaking his head, mouth gaping wide open in horror. Did Christopher just say what he thought he said? He wasn't joining them? But… but they needed him! This was the belly of the beast. The stronghold of the enemy! The entire operation would be much, much more dangerous if Christopher didn't—

The blond rose. He stretched his back and held it erect, those goldenrod orbs piercing the air until their gaze fell on Hikari, then Tailmon, and lastly the Digimon of Miracles himself. "You three are headed for M&A," he stated coldly. Chris thumped his chest. "What **I** want's in R&D." Now those penetrating spheres ogled the core group, the adults who have now become unwilling spectators of the dissolution occurring before them. "And as long as I don't know its location…"

The dragon digimon clasped the man's rough hands. An internal relief came over him when Chris did not reject his touch the same way the Tokyoites reacted, back in the Metropolis. He was too frightened at the thought of losing Christopher at this point he never noticed the man's body froze as soon as those blue fingers wrapped around that calloused palm.

"Just forget about it for now," Veemon shot him an importunate look. Their eyes met and they held. This was beginning to feel like that day all over again. The day Daisuke left him in the Digital World. The day he chose to abandon him, for the sake of his own protection, to be the partner that stood on the sidelines and cheered him on. The day he said it was his turn to fight, his turn to take on the burden.

"Taichi's in trouble and it's the perfect time to bail him out." Scarlet eyes peered at the Child of Light, who was rooted to her spot like everyone else in this room. "See, Hikari needs **all** the help she can get. I know exactly how you feel! Christopher, **I** want to find Daisuke just as much as **YOU **want to go looking for those æther thingies. I'd **love** to go to R&D right now, but a friend's in a tight spot and we can make a _real difference_ if we just—

Christopher Van Numen interrupted him. He gripped the Chosen's hand as tightly as the dragon clutched the man's before kneeling and returning his hug with the same affection, tightness, and intimacy only a close friend could give. He'd whisper apologies, murmuring he had been wrong, that Veemon was right: one should never lose sight of what was right.

Then they left for the closest armory. Stocking up for the infiltration mission ahead. Chris was a beast enough on his own to simply stand there while Hikari and Veemon prepared for battle. Choosing their weapons, filling their pockets with ammunition, sticking in medical supplies wherever they could.

Following that, the four of them left the stronghold. Hikari rode Nefertimon, flying through the darkened skies. As a twist—a reversal of the roles between human and digimon, Veemon rode **on** Christopher, who blurred through the roads and the mountainous wilderness with the speed, alacrity, and precision of a jet.

These formed Veemon's expectations. These were the things Veemon wanted to happen. These were the events he was certain would happen. He knew Christopher well enough. For all his secrecy and aversion to self-disclosure, there were times he was ridiculously _easy _to read. The way he hesitated, the way he mused over the words rolling around his tongue, the way Chris kept glancing at him with emotion in those goldenrod eyes…

Deep down the blond was a good guy. He was as attracted to the ethical, to the just, as the Chosen Children themselves were. As Veemon was. He and the blue dragon had a good relationship. They were great friends.

"She and her brother…"

Veemon gazed up at Christopher Van Numen. Expectant spheres glowing with optimism, with the hope of someone as innocent, as _trusting_ as he was. This was it. This was the time everything followed through and all normalized. This was the time the blond cast himself aside and help those who needed him. This was the time the Chosen reciprocated this sentiment and committed to aiding Chris' objectives concurrently with his own.

He missed his freezing cadence. He did not catch the nervous gulp. Nor did he sense the tightening of Chris' chest, emanating his true intent for but a few seconds before it vanished all too soon.

"**Screw them**."

Veemon blinked three times. Four times. His neck snapped upward, muzzle jerking higher in utter disbelief of what was just spoken before his ears, before everyone here. Verbalized so casually, without feelings, without attachment, with the glacial frost of an apathetic bystander…

"They can kill themselves for all I care."

Was this really Christopher? Was this really his new friend? The man with whom he felt a bond with, just a week since their first meeting? How could he say such horrible things?

Hikari grimaced at Chris' nonchalance and Tailmon snarled in reply, perhaps thinking to herself how the stranger was now showing off his true colors. Veemon did not notice any of this, still too stupefied to accept it. "You're _kidding_! You, y-you, you can't mean that!"

Then those goldenrod orbs landed on him. They made contact with Veemon's crimson. Once quivering with emotion. Now as still as death itself. "Oh, but I **DO**."

The response was like a jolt. "Every, single, word." A dagger that had been rammed into Veemon's gut and thrust deeper, deeper, and deeper until the pain he felt in his heart was as agonizing as the choice Daisuke made for him without his partner's consent

"T, then," Veemon began to stammer. He began to blubber, "T, th, t-then!" his words becoming less coherent as he went on. The words echoed in his mind repeatedly. Christopher, saying those things about Hikari? About Taichi? Announcing to everyone they can all screw themselves? That he doesn't care about them at all?

But what did that mean? What else did it imply about—no. No. Chris didn't—he couldn't be—Veemon refused to entertain the question. He wanted to let it be, to let things come as they did. Yet he did. He dared to ask the blond standing before him, his eyes now boring down at him with the full frightening aura of opposition.

"What…" Veemon shook from astonishment. "Wha, wh-what, what about"—It was so difficult to simply _articulate,_ to get the words out of his snout and into the ears so he could finally learn the truth. "But what ab, about me?"

The blue dragon continued to stutter. "You, y-you… don't… about, a-about me!" He choked, refusing to believe something like this was true. This contradicted **everything** he knew about the blond.

.

.

_Christopher Van Numen was stunned. Veemon had just admitted to seeing everything, glimpsing the man's mental anguish from a dream he had had in the few hours he slept after taking that blow from Leomon. The anger and rage he felt over letting Stingmon, Commandramon, and the humanoid lion himself have their way with him without getting anything in return were ebbing away the instant Veemon appeared to apologize._

"_You're a great friend_," _the blond said, echoing declarations the Child of Miracles had made multiple times before him. "You know that?"_

"_Ha! I get that a _lot_ from Daisuke."_

.

.

"You… you don't care…" Eye contact again, but this time water was gathering in the dragon's eyes. A whine struggled to escape his throat. "You don't care about, about me either?"

Christopher Van Numen did not yield. His gaze was condescending, and it was heavy. Then his mouth moved, setting free a response that deepened the scars Veemon thought he had moved on from, that carved right into a cherished memory three years ago that, until now, tormented him as nightmares and repetitious pain.

The pitch was cold. Emotionless. No different from the stone surrounding them. The speaker's goldenrod orbs shivered, but never wavered in their ferocity.

"You're just a tool, little dragon." Chris then drove the wedge deeper. "To use," he adjoined. "To throw aside."

"No."

So he might not feel any attachments for the Child of Light and her older brother. That was understandable. He didn't know them. To Chris, they were strangers. They had their own issues. They had their own concerns. They had their own lives and perhaps Christopher was justified in distancing himself away from them.

But to call Veemon a tool? To say he had been used, worn like a disposable glove for a week at most before abandoning him to his own devices the instant his usefulness was gone?

What happened to everything they've been through together so far?

"No. You're **lying**."

Then why did he treat Veemon like a king yesterday, raising him up when his spirits were flattened by the society put into place through the lifestyles cultivated by the Digital Suppression Initiative?

.

.

_Pain. Horrific, mind-numbing pain. It thrust its sharp, life-destroying agony into the blue dragon's chest in memory of the atrocities occurring before his crimson gaze. Veemon shuddered terribly at how humankind evolved to far greater heights, blissfully unaware of the price they paid for prosperity._

_Digimon were stripped of everything they held dear, suppressed completely by the dark spirals. Helpless to do anything but watch their own bodies, their own voices, their own senses—their very __**minds**__!—bleat and shuffle and move about with the instincts and mannerisms of animals. Mindless pets._

_The very concept of the partnership, bastardized. Defiled by the capitalist engine of modern society and downgraded to a financialized commodity without any of the responsibilities, without any of the pressures of being a tamer… let alone being a Chosen!_

_They gawked at him. They leered at him. They gazed at him with uncaring eyes. With disapproving and fearful gapes that sought the nearest so-called Peacekeeper to come in and save the day from the "wild animal", silencing everything that Veemon was with a quick clip of a triband on his body._

_Christopher Van Numen kept him close when they left the steakhouse. A constant connection. Not once did he relinquish the blue dragon from physical contact since they walked out. An arm around his shoulder. A cheek resting on his muzzle. A hand clamping his wrist. Or all his fingers interlocked with his toes whenever they met in his pockets._

_Throughout yesterday's sightseeing, as Veemon led Chris to and through the paths he himself walked with Daisuke Motomiya, taken in by nostalgia and daydreaming the sweet, distant memories of the past, at times Chosen couldn't help but notice the blond's unusually high vigilance. He was alert. He responded to every glare, every stare—may it be awkward, astounded, or utterly disgusted—with an angry, furious, and acutely _protective_ glower of his own. Not one bigot dared to challenge him. _

_Never did he concern himself with his standing in human society. Never did he feel any need to conform to social pressures. He considered Veemon to be his equal and expected the digimon to act as any rational, autonomous person would. There was no hiding, no masquerading as a realistic-looking doll, and certainly no mimicry of a soulless beast. Most people did not bother the two, but their astonished gasps, their hushed whispers, _and_ the censorious staring all gave their hidden prejudice away. Christopher shrugged it off like it was nothing. Like he had long been desensitized to this sort of dejection._

_Veemon did not think about why his friend carried himself the way he was. Why he was stoic when everything he knew about humankind, everything he had learned from his life with the Motomiya family and their friends, seemed to revolve around social acceptance. Instead the blue was cheerful. Glad for the protection. Happy for the attention. Delighted by such warm, doting affection._

_But whenever they commuted—sitting inside the railcar, standing in a bus, or simply walking to their next destination—Veemon found his mind wandering back to the years he was still with his destined partner. He looked back at the years that followed the Fourth of July massacre, the turning point of popular opinion. _

_Daisuke Motomiya had done everything Chris was doing this very moment. But he was burdened with chains. The Child of Miracles was chained by his family. Chained by the standards of Japanese society. Chained by the mere fact his humanity made him weak, unable to confront the dark side of mankind and defend his digital half on his own terms. If he needed to change the world, to protect those he loved, his surrogate brother especially… _

_Christopher was bound by none of these chains. An outsider free from the ties that bind. That made all the difference. Veemon back then hoped Daisuke Motomiya would be free from his chains too, by the time they finally reunite. By the time they were ready to face the world together. As tamer and digimon partner. As surrogate brothers. As two halves of a greater whole. _

.

.

The claims he now made, the _reality_ unfolding before him didn't make sense! How could Chris have sought merely his own agenda and nothing else? How could he say the blond just needed his help, instead of letting him live out of some good he saw inside? Out of some faint desire to reach out and trust another?

His initial assessment of his character wasn't wrong! There couldn't have been selfish, _manipulative_ reasons behind **everything** Christopher had done for him yesterday. Why else would he invest so much effort, so much attention, so much _doting_, just to boost the dragon's morale and keep him smiling? The man even revoked Veemon's suggestion to deign towards the rules of society, when it would've been beneficial for him.

Even during the Midnight Assault such slyness was absent. The blond had put his own life on the line within hours of their first contact. Several times Chris helped him or took blows meant to _permanently_ _kill_ him. He even worked together with him, acting as one synchronized unit.

These actions couldn't **possibly** reflect someone who only meant to use Veemon the way he would carefully blow his nose on a rag without his horn puncturing it and then nonchalantly toss the dirtied fabric into the trash once it was done and spent and useless.

"That can't be true," the dragon digimon refuted. He refused to believe this. He was a tool? To use? To use and dispose? Nobody risked their lives for someone they considered a tool. Nobody disregarded their social standing and welcomed discrimination and speciesism for someone they thought a pawn. Veemon strengthened his grip on Christopher's hand, clenching much tighter than before. Only now did he notice it remained limp by his side, leaving the Chosen's gestures and pleas unanswered. "Four Gods…"

Why wasn't he reciprocating? Why wasn't he responding? Disappointment and sadness pervaded him. "THAT CAN'T BE TRUE!" He begged silently, pleaded for the man to retort with one little action, to demonstrate his support. That's all he wanted. Already Veemon had forgotten about the audience frozen all around them.

But the hand was still flaccid. Christopher Van Numen trained his head down, those goldenrod eyes ogling him deadpan. "Hmph. I only needed your trust," the blond spat.

.

.

_By sheer stroke of luck, Veemon saw Christopher outside the shell of mystery that always surrounded him. He was vulnerable, figuratively naked without the barrier of obscurity to protect him, to conceal the person he was within. On that night, the Chosen did not see Chris the way he usually carried himself as: the man who was cold, aloof, and apathetic to the world; the man who shunned anything that approached him, casting them out with intimidation and fury. Right then and there he was seeing someone torn apart by his past, weeping in despair. Crippled by the regrets and guilt that must've been hidden away from the world._

"_I just wanted to be normal. TO BE F*CKING NORMAL!"_

_Veemon saw it all, yet he did nothing. He feigned slumber when every inch of his body, everything that defined the blue dragon was urging him to get up and do something—anything! But he did his best to stay still, knowing full well a person as closed off as Chris was not going to be so easily pried open the way Daisuke was an open book to the Digimon of Miracles. After all, he and the blond were not partners._

_But then Christopher grabbed him. He seized what he thought was a sleeping digimon and squeezed the leathery body in a tight, enclosed embrace. The blond literally buried his face on the dragon's shoulder. He didn't care if Veemon would cover him in sticky drool by morning. He didn't care if Veemon would unconsciously wrap himself around him like some sort of doll or pillow again. He didn't care if Veemon was jolted awake. He didn't care if this sudden, uncharacteristic outburst of emotion astonished him. He didn't care what Veemon would think of him after this. _

_At that instant, the only thing Christopher cared about was his presence. Nothing more. He had found solace in this friendship. The consolation he craved for since his "important person" died before those goldenrod eyes. _

.

.

Veemon swore to the Harmonious Ones there was absolutely no way someone who hugged him like **that** "simply needed his trust". He was lying. Christopher was lying to him right now by the skin of his teeth and Veemon knew it.

"BUT I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

So why wasn't Christopher's unfriendly gaze wavering—

He winced.

He **winced**!

It all happened in a split second. If Veemon hadn't been paying attention, he wouldn't have caught it! This was wrong. This was wrong on **so** many levels. None of this should even be happening! Why was he pushing him away? Why sever the ties when it was so clear their friendship was helping him?

The blond needed—he _wanted_ Veemon for something much more than his "trust". Otherwise, he'd have never bothered with everything he's done for him so far.

And this feeling was **mutual**. Whenever Christopher was around, he didn't feel as lonely. He didn't have to deal with the agony of nostalgia and wishful reminiscing, not when he had a friend he could count on. A friend he could rely on. Just like Daisuke before him, Christopher tolerated his childishness. He worked with him, listened to him, and enjoyed being with him. Somehow, in a short span of time, the blond had become a close, trusted friend who would stay by Veemon. _WHO WON'T ABANDON ME!_

"S, stop it," the Chosen begged. "Stop _lying_… Ch, Chris, y-you, you **idiot**, do you even _know_ what you're doing?"

.

.

_It was time. The time he had been dreading since they entered the Digital World. Yesterday the Child of Miracles blessed him with the best day of his life in Tokyo. Now he was doing the same thing, warping all around the Server Continent then exploring File Island by foot to pay homage to the struggle for survival endured by the First Generation. _

_They were both alone right now. It was just the two of them. Daisuke Motomiya and Veemon. Tamer and Digimon Partner. The two Chosen of Miracles. Surrogate brothers. They were each other's shadows as much as they were reflections of each other._

_Now it was time._

_It was time for Daisuke to return to the Real World…_

.

.

He was thinking of that scene again. Why was he remembering this now? Why was he entertaining these thoughts? Why were Christopher's lies invoking these memories? Four Gods, he wasn't supposed to recall this. Veemon didn't want to relive the sadness and dejection of that moment when the blond was already reopening those long-buried wounds!

.

.

_Without Veemon. Without his partner—his second shadow—beside him._

_He was seven years old back then: a young adult by digimon standards, although another three years wouldn't make that much of a difference on that assessment. The blue dragon stood straight, his gaze now level with Daisuke's waist thanks to the growth spurts he's had a few years ago._

_Veemon clasped the sleeves of Daisuke's jacket. He held on as tight as he could._

_His human half looked down at him. Sadness swirled inside his chocolate eyes, drowning them in glistening fluid. "Let me go," the Chosen Child requested, not bothering to hide the uncertainty, the reluctance in his voice. He, too, did not want any of this. But it had to be done. That much Daisuke believed with all his heart._

_When Daisuke believed in something he was stubborn about it. He refused to back down no matter what stood in its way. Even if it was his digimon partner._

_But Veemon was stubborn too. He and Daisuke had so much in common nobody would've been surprised if they were twins in another life. "I won't let you go." All he wanted was to be with Daisuke Motomiya. He didn't want him to leave._

_Not now._

"_I'm your partner, Daisuke!"_

_Not __**ever**__._

_The Child of Miracles locked eyes with his faithful partner. His gaze was sympathetic. Understanding. Veemon had been with him since the 5__th__ grade, since he was a young boy of eleven years—barely a teen. Now he was eighteen. Just two years shy of being a full-fledged adult according to Japanese law, yet if one accounted for everything he went through since 2002, he might as well be in his mid-thirties._

_He swallowed nervously. "__**I**__**know**__, Veemon. I know you want to be with me. I know you can protect me and my family. I know you and I always do things together. But…"_

_Veemon no longer felt the solid ground beneath his three-toed feet. Now he was in Daisuke's arms. The Chosen Child embraced him. A hand pressed the dragon's head closer to his chest. Close enough to hear his heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of his diaphragm. "But I'm your partner too."_

_With the dragon trapped Daisuke raised his fist and vigorously rubbed his head. It was the last noogie he'd ever receive from him, Veemon would realize later. He was too unsettled to think right now. Veemon felt the tears splashing down. "I also need to protect you." His brother pressed his lips to Veemon's forehead. A final gesture of affection. "You're family. Don't you __**ever**__ forget that!"_

"_Daisuke…"_

_The warm embrace vanished. _

"_Huh?"_

_Hands wedged between Veemon's armpits, now the two of them were eye to eye. "I have to do this without you." Daisuke's gaze was shaking, but the intensity—the determination within did not waver even slightly. _

"_But— _

"_I'm not risking you again!"_

"_But Daisuke, if I'm not there with you, I can't—_

"_You can't protect me from the __**law**__, Veemon." Even Daisuke was pleading. "Just __**trust**__ me on this, bro. It's __**my **__turn to do the fighting."_

"_Dai"—a sudden force propelled him away.—"WAH!" _

_One feet._

_Three feet._

_Five._

_Fresh, fertile soil invaded the dragon's maw. It tainted his tongue with the sickening taste of earth. "Bleh!" he spat, using both hands to rub his tongue vigorously until the disgustingly bitter taste was gone. "Yeeech."_

_This distraction was all Daisuke needed. Light shone from his human half's direction, compelling the Chosen to ignore his gustatory predicament and turn immediately to its source. "__**NEVER**__ forget our promise."_

_He gasped._

_The digiport had been activated. Daisuke Motomiya had shoved him away. He made the choice Veemon couldn't take. The choice he __**wouldn't**__ take. Now the Chosen Child—Veemon's human half was vanishing in an ever-intensifying screen of light._

"_NO!" Veemon yelled after his partner. Globes of tears finally burst from his scarlet orbs. Now they streamed, they cascaded down his muzzle as he shrieked. "STAY WITH ME, _PLEASE_!" The Digimon of Miracles sprinted forward, hoping to clear the gap between them in those precious moments and snatch his body before it vanished completely into the digiport. "DAISUKE!" He extended his hand, palm reaching out. "DON'T GO!" _

_Just a few more moments. Just a little bit more time. Four Gods, please, he's got to make it! _

"_I NEED YOU!" A couple steps and he was right on top of him. Veemon swung his hand into the cloud of light, his fingers grasping for any part of Daisuke Motomiya. His jacket. His hair. His hand. His leg. His face. His __**anything**__! He'd grab hold of Daisuke and he wasn't going to let go. Never! "DON'T LEAVE ME!"_

"_I love you, Veemon. I always will." _

"_DON'T…_

_Veemon felt nothing. His hands were still shaking, clinging not to even one fiber from Motomiya's sweater but to an empty void. He had been a split second too late. Perhaps he missed the human by a hair's breadth. _

_Blood dripped from the insides of his palms, his white claws easily piercing the soft skin in his desperation. The fluid vanished into data particles seconds after striking the ground, reminiscent of the way his human half left, leaving behind a raspy whisper that faded into oblivion much too quickly. A ghostly voice that was imprinted into Veemon's memory for all eternity._

"…_leave me," he bleated weakly._

_Veemon collapsed on his knees in utter defeat. He was frozen in stupor, still unwilling to believe Daisuke had left him in the Digital World. Abandoned him to his own devices, even if it was for his sake. For his own protection._

_This was a dream. This was one terrible nightmare. Daisuke wouldn't __**do**__ this to him! They were partners. They were brothers. They had to be with each other. They've always been together since they first met at the Spire of Courage. _

_Minutes later the Chosen fell to his side and curled into a fetal position. His eyes had glazed over. They stared lifelessly at the old-fashioned television set that had been inert for Gods knew how many hours. "He's just messing with you," Veemon was telling himself. "He'll come back any time now. Tell you it's all a trick. Say he's sorry for putting you through this. And… and…"_

_Which was the dream and which was reality? _

_Everything Daisuke had done for him these past two days, all the wonderful things they did, and the bonding they've done… they were so distant from the here and now_ those_ memories felt like the dreams. Figments of his own imagination. _

_Only when the hours had passed and the sky above him had gone dark did the truth he was running from settle on him. Veemon curled in tighter, hugging his knees. The blue dragon wept in solitude, accepting reality for what it was. _

_He was alone now. Daisuke Motomiya was not coming back. Not until he sorted out the human equation. Not until he was confident his digimon partner would no longer be in danger just from existing. Not for a long, long time._

_It could take weeks. It could take months. Maybe years. Maybe even a decade. _

_But Veemon had nothing to hold on to. Nothing except seven years of cherished memories, the promise he and his surrogate brother made, and the last words the young man left for him._

"_I love you, too, Daisuke…" _

_._

_._

The Child of Miracles told Veemon to trust him. To believe in him and the promise they made. Yet he never returned. Never called out to him, even before his alleged disappearance. He had all year to do so! Was he **that** afraid of the government? Was he burdened with so many setbacks—

None of that mattered! The fact was Veemon had _still_ been left behind. Stranded on File Island and abandoned without having a say in the matter. Who cared if Daisuke considered this separation temporary? Who cared if this was done for his sake? Personal feelings did not acquit him from what he did: pushing him away at the very last moment! This was no different from betrayal.

And now Christopher Van Numen was staying behind. Now he was renouncing the friendship between him and Veemon. This relationship was helping **both** of them recuperate from their own problems, from their _own_ pasts. So why was this _idiot_ doing this? Why? They were friends. They were friends! Nothing else could be the truth.

"We're friends…"

Voices from the past week returned to the forefront of his memory. Although the Adult had been deleted, Golemon's gruff, derisive voice still haunted him. _"Then tell me, Lord Veemon. What is this _Daisuke_ doing for you?"_

Ignore it. Ignore it all.

He had to ignore all the doubts the non-Chosen were evoking in him. Daisuke was his partner, and he only had his best interests in mind. He wasn't so selfish he'd _disregard_ the bond the two of them shared.

Christopher had saved him from yielding to their misanthropic sentiment. He even stopped him from doubting Daisuke's intentions, yet the instant he thought of these Stingmon's angry censures returned to the blue dragon, plunging Veemon deeper into the dejection stewing in the pit of his belly.

.

.

"_What do you even know about Chris? You just met him yesterday, and here you are beside him as if you've been with him for weeks! You're letting your emotions cloud you, all because he's the first human in two years to treat you nicely!"_

.

.

His colleague's voice **accused** him of replacing Daisuke, of swapping his brother with this complete stranger whose background, whose abilities, whose _objectives_ were unknown to all of them.

.

.

"_IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Veemon rejoined the Digimon of Kindness, enraged at his accusations. How dare he? This had __**nothing**__ to do with his feelings for Daisuke Motomiya! Replace his brother? Let the nostalgia and yearning for the Chosen Child cloud his judgment? _

"_You're a _Chosen,_ Stingmon! Just like me."_

_He should've known better. Ken should've raised him better._

"_Don't you feel __**anything**__ when you see humans obsessed with killing us? Do you even know what it's like to be SEPARATED from your partner as long as I've been? To be __**alone**__?"_

.

.

These were the whispers of the past. None of them were true. None of them touched on the truth. He could trust humans. He could trust Christopher as much as he trusted Daisuke before him.

"…and friends help each other." _Don't leave me_, the dragon pleaded silently. _Don't leave me, too._

Veemon seized that limped hand and brought it close to his body. "So you're lying," he asserted, clinging on to that hand, keenly watching for any signs of movement.

He was lying when he said it was a mistake to trust him.

He was lying when he depreciated himself. When he said he was a curse who shouldn't get involved with anything.

Veemon refused to let go. He squeezed tightly, clenching with all the strength he could muster. Veemon had found a friend who stayed by him and protected him from the system—from the people even Daisuke feared. He wasn't alone now. He was here in the Real World, back with the Chosen Children. And given a few more days, he'd have Daisuke right by his side again and _boy_, that man was going to get one hell of a _scolding _for being so stupid.

"You're **lying**."

Yet the dragon's intonation was weak. His denials, his defense, his constant refusal to accept the blond's words at face value… they were all beginning to wane. Fade away and vanish like the lies he told himself to make him feel better, on the day Daisuke left. "Y-you, you can't… you can't fool me, Chris."

_I'm not letting go! _"You… can't…"

* * *

Christopher hated it.

He hated every minute of it.

Every single word coming out of his mouth was dissonant from his thoughts. All those nasty things flowing into Veemon's ears had no meaning to him. It was all a lie. A big, giant lie. He did not want to admit it, but the Chosen had grown on him; and the last thing he wanted was to take away the happiness, cheer, and mental strength Chris had been giving him just from being around. Especially now that he's seen the Real World for what it was, now that he's discovered the truth behind Daisuke's failure to meet his promise.

Christopher Van Numen thought he was stuttering as he spoke, but somehow those sentences strung themselves along in perfect clarity, enunciation, and the smoothness of a man who meant every articulation. The conspicuous lack of emotions, freezing temperature, and a cadence that had no trouble emulating the empty winds of a ghost town all battered Veemon and tore him down from where he stood, wrenching out the joy and probably making him relive the last time he'd been left behind by a human he cared about.

But Chris went on, pretending his verbalized confessions conveyed his true thoughts. If this was the only thing he could do to preserve the balance and spare Veemon from the same cycle of tragedy that had killed Sally, Ivan, and many more before him, then so be it. At least he didn't have to kill the dragon himself. At least this was something that could give _Christopher_ himself peace of mind later on…

But the fraught expression on Veemon's muzzle wasn't doing anything to give him serenity. The blue dragon accepted none of this. His waist-high body shivered from the trepidations running their course. His tail was as rigid as the anxiety visible on his gaping mouth. Veemon's very posture was dropping a gigantic boulder into the pit of Chris' stomach, and he was trying his hardest not to entertain any second thoughts, not let any doubts seep in and weaken his position.

This was his decision. He needed to see it through no matter what he felt about it. This path was the optimal path, and he knew it! It wouldn't be so damn hard if he felt it the same way. At the very least, Sally's voice wouldn't still be screaming in his head right now…

The screaming seemed to worsen—might have taken on a thunderous blare—when Veemon began muttering to himself. Nobody in this room heard him, but Christopher did. With the sharp hearing of a superhuman, he'd hear even the core group's frightened murmurs with stark clarity. Compared to them, Veemon's murmurs were shouts, carrying memories of everything they've gone through since they met in the cave and became friends.

Thoughts about their teamwork during the Midnight Assault, the camaraderie their relationship exuded, and the support he'd given to Chosen when he was down had done nothing but add weight to that stone, to the point it became completely unbearable. It took all of Christopher's willpower to keep his hand still and limp the instant Veemon tightened his clasp, those sad eyes of his staring back into the blond's goldenrod gaze with a clear, desperate request for reciprocation.

The blond wanted to answer his pleas. He wanted to take the blue hand. He wanted to retract **everything** and commit to being his friend, even if it meant helping this crying woman, even if it meant tearing apart the Digital Suppression Initiative's Research and Development Wing not for the Realmstone, not for the æther technology, but for Veemon's surrogate brother.

But no! He stopped himself. He had to remain strong. This was the time to do something for the greater good. The time to be a _real friend_ and do something neither of them wanted for **his **sake**. **Christopher Van Numen was a curse. A traveling blight that set one explosion after another in every universe he found himself in. An anomaly that upset the state of affairs just by being around!

He tried. Oh, he had **tried**. Tried to warn Veemon—get him to back off without disclosing the specifics behind his problems—but time after time this blue dragon wouldn't listen. He _never_ f*cking listened. The Digimon of Miracles was too dense, was too clueless, was too _naïve_. He was still a child! A child who clung to his innocence and ideals—refused to recognize the cold and bitter reality of the world. God, by the time Veemon grasped Chris' situation with a _mature_ understanding, it would be too late.

"S-stop it," the digimon was begging. His pleas were pathetic. Absolutely pathetic and out of character, but he understood the pain that was there. He could see the same pain that had brought the blue dragon to carve reminders and distant echoes into the walls of his own room. It stung the blond's eyes… caused them to water.

_This is necessary_. Christopher Van Numen held his ground, drawing strength from the very words Shuu Kido armed him with. _I have to go through with this! _

He couldn't even imagine how his partner must've felt when he deserted Veemon in the Digital World three years ago. They were living together for seven years. Seven years. Seven, long, years. Of memories filled with the full gamut of emotion. Possibly as indescribably wonderful as the five years Christopher Van Numen had before this journey began, before the cycle—the _fate_ that now dominated his life. The very same five years Felicia Portal claimed was borrowed time…

But this Daisuke guy managed it. He had the big picture in mind and was unafraid to follow through with it. _If he can do it, so can I._

"You're **lying**," the dragon kept fighting. He _never_ gave up. Stubbornly, Veemon called out his bluff. "Y-you, you can't… you can't fool me, Chris." But the confidence in his voice was in pieces. He had trouble believing in his own words… yet he was right. He was completely and utterly right.

.

.

_A good fifteen minutes remained before the _Daikanransha_ would move again. Atop the famous Ferris wheel Christopher and Veemon had just snapped that first photograph, immortalizing this moment for as long as the blond lived. Of course, the Realm Scanner had duplicated everything in that digital camera. He needed backups, and given the bracer's indestructibility and unparalleled processing power, once these pictures were taken nothing in the multiverse could ever take them away from him._

"_Chris?" Veemon was staring. The blond had his full attention. _

"_Yeah?"_

_It turned out he was ogling the Canon IXUS, not him. "Can I borrow that?" When Chris didn't reply immediately the blue dragon was quick to add, "I'll be careful with it. Trust me."_

_Without stopping to question the Chosen, he handed the device over to him. He was entranced. A goofy smile formed on Veemon's muzzle and within his gaze sparkled something Christopher believed was childish enthusiasm. As soon as he thrust his wrist through the security cord, Veemon began running around their car, pointing the camera at the night sky, at Palette Town, and at Tokyo's skyline. When he was done with their surroundings, done with random strangers, he then turned the camera on himself. As soon as he did so, he stuck his tongue out, made a gesture Christopher found foreign, and snapped the shot with the push of a button._

_A series of self-portraits happened afterwards. Chris idly wondered what thoughts were coursing through the passengers in the other cars. From their point of view Chris and Veemon's car was swaying conspicuously, bursting with multiple flashes like someone secretly installed a strobe light from a night club. _

"_So I'm curious." Veemon asked him, skipping back towards the blond. "What's with this camera?" He hopped on the seat. Now that he stood on the plastic mold, their eyes were level. "What's with this camera? Isn't this kinda…" _

_A blue arm snaked around Chris' head. "…kinda ancient for you?" Playfully, Veemon pulled theirs together for another picture. "After hearing a few stories from you, I thought you'd have something more, uhm…" _

_Flash. _

"…_futuristic."_

"_True," the blond retorted. He _did_ recall telling Veemon some stories about the futuristic places he's been to. The previous universe had been one such place, actually. It had all those gigantic starships, the diversity of races, and the vivid displays of destruction from interstellar warfare. Chris and his own group led prominent roles in that one, but the blue dragon didn't need to know any details. "I could've gotten something a hundred times better than the Ixus in any of those worlds. It wouldn't be too much trouble transferring data from the SD card._

"_Hell, the R-Scanner has a program that can connect with my eyes, capture whatever I'm seeing, and instantly process them into videos and images of unparalleled quality." Something like __**this**__ wasn't critical information. This sort of trivia he could disclose easily without incurring any problems down the road. "But I've taken this digicam everywhere, Veemon. I had it for years. Had it for much longer than you'd think."_

"_How long?"_

"_Since high school. It even predates my second chance at life— _

"_Oooh, check this! This pic is _good_—and heeey, you got your arm round my shoulder too!" _

"_Huh? Seriously?"_

"_Yup, yup!" Another grin. _

_To say Chris was surprised was an understatement. The man himself had no idea he responded to Veemon's overt affability in this way. It had all been unconscious. A natural reflex, but only when he was comfortable with present company. No awkward conversations. No reluctance. No manipulation. No suspicion. No deflective attitudes. No hostilities of any sort. An act of complete sincerity. _

_Veemon had been elevated to the same status afforded to those who accompanied him, and with that wide smile of his, he probably knew it. Chris had no rebuttal. The best he could do was smile back at the digimon, chuckle, reach out to him, and twirl his ears for a second or two. "So it is."_

_Appreciative, Veemon let out soft, happy whines from the gesture. Those two seconds became ten._

.

.

None of that was a lie. It couldn't be anything **but** authentic. Even if he didn't say much, it was still an explicit recognition of their friendship. A memory that bonded them both together. A memory that Christopher and Veemon considered important for their relationship.

It was also a memory the Digimon of Miracles clung to as he demanded the blond to divulge the truth. That he didn't mean any of this. That he was a great friend. That he ought to promise he wasn't going to leave him.

But every thought about their tour through Tokyo, about the bonding they did in that amusement park, about the happy, childish smile carved on the dragon's snout, hardened the man's resolve. It solidified the morality behind his actions. Even if it was going to be painful right now, he knew it would all be for the best in the long run. Veemon would thank him eventually. He didn't know when. He didn't know how it would come to that. But that's what he believed, and that's what convinced Christopher to follow through.

Because the Chosen didn't deserve to be crushed by the perils that came with this friendship.

Because Veemon's ties to this world was as strong as ever, and it was unfair for the blond to have none at all.

Because Christopher knew he was weak. For that he deserved nothing.

Besides, there was no going back now. He was in this too deep. Even if he wanted to remain friends, Chris needed to pull through and see this whole scene play out to the very end. It had to be done. It was necessary.

He took a deep breath. "I went to the Real World for a reason," Christopher reminded him. "I'm not helping your friends because I want to. I'm not here out of charity." Goldenrod eyes looked down on him, drilling deep into that scarlet gaze. His words carried a lot of weight. Much of it borne by the fact they weren't partners. "You know what I'm after and I'm **not** wasting any more time with useless shit!"

Veemon blanched. "U, u, u-u-use," he spluttered. He struggled to repeat it, to even acknowledge the connotations those two words held for the experiences, the battles, and the time they spent bonding. "U, useless… s, SHIT!"

Christopher Van Numen assaulted every "bonding moment" he and Veemon had. He attacked the ones that held great significance for their friendship. He cast them all under a doubtful light and devalued all the joys and strength the Chosen drew from the relationship to forget the loneliness, the absence of his human partner. By doing so, it'd be easier to sever the ties and cut off this relationship without the renege risk.

Easier for _whom_, was another question altogether. The idea was a simple one, but it was cruel.

Chris figured Veemon latched onto and shadowed him like an electromagnet because his faith in humanity was waning. Because he was beginning to entertain the prejudice of the non-Chosen, feeding his doubts on his human half's sincerity. Because he was jealous of the closeness and affection exuded by the other partnerships. Because he was lonely.

Manipulating the blue dragon like this was no different from abusing a little boy and mistreating him just for being a kid.

"You kept wandering off, always getting into trouble!" He ranted. "I don't want to think about how much time I lost just babying you!"

Veemon reacted immediately. "You can't blame me for that! I haven't been to Tokyo for three years. Three _long_ years!" He snarled, baring his sharp, glistening teeth. "It's not like I _knew_ humans were using dark spirals to turn digimon into… into…!"

Water shuddered inside his eyes. Tears threatened to break his ferocious glare. Even the frown on his muzzle was wobbling, barely balancing on a cliff. What was he thinking? What was he _remembering_?

Chris hadn't been with him when it happened, but whatever Veemon suffered in Shibuya's streets and at Mons' Mart left a trauma that would never leave him for the rest of his life. Now the blond was giving him another one, and it was more painful than a bunch of bigots and speciesists showering the digimon with prejudice.

The guilt was beginning to spike and hurt his chest, but Christopher squashed it like a bug. He suppressed the second thoughts like all the other times his conscience nagged at him, screamed at him. It was almost strange how these decisions **never** became easier. He ought to be familiar with moral dilemmas by now. Completely desensitized. He shouldn't be feeling anything like this anymore.

Good Lord, nothing he did softened the screaming his scruples made using Sally's voice. It was driving him crazy. Several times he thought of reconsidering, of stopping this farce.

Such thoughts did not stop the man from choosing to sweep the Digimon of Miracles off his feet and break him down into one hell of a mess.

"And then we went on that damn tour. It's—

"It was rush hour!" Veemon growled preemptively. "I _told_you, even if we got to Shibuya Station on time, we would've missed the last bus to Gotenba anyway. What else were we going to do?

He raised an accusing finger at Chris. "Besides, **you** had fun just as much as **I** did! _You're_ the one who said it's your dream to—

"I _know_ what I said." He shook his own head. "I don't even know what I was thinking, suggesting something so **stupid**!" Chris grumbled. It took enormous effort to infuse the last word with contempt.

The Chosen responded with words he could've sensed from the blond's own thoughts. "But we were **bonding**!" He couldn't have said it better himself. To just ignore it, to let it hit him without so much as a cringe, was tearing him apart. Yes, it might have been stupid. Yes, it might have been selfish of _either _of them, with Chris wanting to fulfill a childhood dream and Veemon seeking a trip down memory lane. Yes, maybe it was wrong for them to waste a day doing things they wanted. But those were overshadowed by the fact he enjoyed it.

Christopher had forgotten his own problems during that tour. Forgot all the death and bloodshed haunting him to this day. When he was bonding with Veemon, he didn't dwell on Sally. Not until Veemon asked about her did he think of the way she died for him, of how her own blood splattered on him moments before it was vaporized in the Eternal Maelstrom of the Space Between Worlds.

What he felt last night was the serenity and contentment of a simple life. Chris had completely forgotten what it was like to leave behind the past and the future and just focus on the present. He had forgotten what it was like to spend time with a great pal and deepen their friendship for its own sake without stopping to ponder on the surging storm clouds ahead.

That Veemon would never know this was regrettable.

"Now you're trying to drag me into this **pointless** rescue mission!"

A collective gasp echoed throughout the cavern. The core group couldn't believe what the man just said. Chris had dubbed the rescue operation of their most respected, most reliable leader a futile one. His tactlessness and ignorance of their surroundings added fuel to the fire. Had he considered their thoughts and opinions important—if he had a personal stake in his standing among the Digidestined, he might have regretted what he said as soon as the words left his mouth.

As it were, Christopher's thoughts circled around one thing. _Oh, we had an audience?_ Having exchanged sentences with Veemon for so long when it came to issues like this, he completely forgot they were not alone this time around.

They did not take this kindly.

The young lady standing by the entrance froze in place. Her heart almost seemed to have stopped, but as far as Chris was from her, he could tell her chest was freezing from the way he downplayed this project. He could even hear her sharp intake of breath and the rapid blinking of her eyes.

Her partner, on the other hand, revealed her fangs and snarled. "Pointless?" She whipped out her claws and narrowed her crystal blue eyes. An attempt to cow Christopher Van Numen with intimidation. "Four Gods, it's **personal**! This is Hikari's _brother_ we're rescuing."

The third digimon in the room glared at Christopher. Renamon's stare was glazed with cold, unfeeling ice. "The Digidestined doesn't have anyone else with his level of talent for field strategy and combat tactics. My partner's better than **any** of the Chosen Children in that regard, but even she can't compare." As she said this, the yellow fox glanced at Hikari and Veemon. _Hmm. Interesting…_

Chikara Hida was still seated, much like all the other members of the core group. All of them restrained themselves, and it was commendable, although they did nothing to stop their hands from shaking in fury. Chris felt the wild, erratic vibrations emanating from their hands. He didn't need to look at their faces and take note of their cadence to know they were all pissed off. "Do you even realize how important this is to us?" deplored the old man. "Taichi **inspires** the people here! We need him."

"See, this is serious!" Veemon chimed in, but his shaky tone told everyone who noticed it he was grasping at straws. Desperately.

Christopher repudiated their concerns without hesitating. "So what? That's got nothing to do with me. I don't give a damn."

That statement was true. Chris articulated this with the full backing of his feelings, thoughts, and conviction. The only one he cared about here was Veemon. He didn't care about anyone else, not even the dragon's friends. As far as he was concerned, anyone who _wasn't_ directly related to Veemon's well-being could screw themselves. Chris would never lift a finger for them. He would never go out of his way to stop them from slitting their own throats or bail them out from an overwhelming pinch. Too much effort for someone he never considered an ally.

Christopher Van Numen had no feelings for Hikari. He had no feelings for Taichi. He had no attachments to these Digidestined people. To him they were truly his tools. They were just like those monsters at the Satellite Base, who he used as shields, who he used as decoys and pawns to further his own needs. He would abandon them to their own devices or even betray them to the Digital Suppression Initiative if it suited his needs.

In other circumstances, he might have allowed himself to be dragged into this little side quest, if only because it made Veemon happy. He liked seeing him smile. He felt good when the blue dragon licked his face out of gratitude or glomped him for his help. But he had a mission to carry out, and it was urgent.

He was running out of time.

During times like these, during times when Christopher was as stubborn as a mule, Sally Xyphard usually prodded him to "do the right thing". He didn't know how she did it, but every single time she read him right and echoed whatever his conscience urged him to do. She knew how to push Christopher's buttons and even if he was reluctant, the blond listened to her all the time. Being his girlfriend helped plenty, of course.

But…

.

.

But the priestess was dead.

A quick survey of the war room revealed the rage emblazoned on every face his goldenrod eyes recorded, not only Veemon's. As a collective, they were all fuming. They were livid at Chris for devaluing the gravity of Taichi's rescue, for reminding them all he was an outside character in all this, and for refusing to help them out of the kindness of his heart.

Yet none of them could punish the blond for his insolence and apathy. To them, Christopher Van Numen was godlike in power. He was untouchable. **Invincible**. They could do nothing to him and they probably felt helpless because of it. These people had no control over him, so the only thing they could feasibly do was induce him into acting through his friendship with Veemon or through moral reasoning or guilt-tripping.

Unfortunately, not even the Digimon of Miracles grasped the extent of Chris' own control over his emotions. "What I'm after will **not** be in M&A."

"Why? Veemon released a feral growl. Finally, he snarled as the Digimon of Light had before him. "Why do you keep going back to this?" An irate scowl on his muzzle broadcast his desire to throttle the blond on the spot and pound him into the ground until all the rage at his disrespect and callous disregard was vented. "That's ALL I've been hearing from you all this time!" The dragon's feet shook from such barely suppressed aggression. Veemon's asperity was so strong its intensity startled even him. "It's _always_ æther! _Always_ that realm thingy! _Always_ the stupid balance! _Always_ about **you **and what **you **want!"

The words coming out of his mouth now summarized all the character flaws Veemon must have observed in him. It was all adding up now. His secretive nature. His preference for noncommittal actions. His apathy to the world around him. "If you can just set it aside, do the right thing, and help us—help _me_, you can really make a difference here. C'mon, stop thinking about yourself! **DON'T BE SELFISH**!"

* * *

Watching a fight break out between Christopher and Veemon struck the Child of Light as surreal. Hikari never expected something like this to happen. A few minutes ago, the blond was in control. He was dictating the meeting at his own pace, to Veemon's detriment. But the blue dragon was recalcitrant, eager to give away the news Chris had taken hostage to first pursue his own agenda. Suddenly, Veemon spilled the beans and all at once the control Chris had vanished entirely, merging him with the background just as the focal point of the meeting shifted from Digital Modification and Æther to Taichi Yagami.

The 21-year-old was not stupid. She knew the battery of problems the blond hurled at them were important in their own right. Too important. Not only were they capable of turning the tides of war, but they also portended the capability to literally changing the world overnight. Had Digital Modification and Æther been a pure scientific endeavor, unsullied by the abusive darkness of human nature, the Child of Light might have even been impressed at what her own species had accomplished, conquering the laws of the Digital World so easily—so _quickly_!

But Hikari did not focus on this. She wore her heart on her sleeve. She let her emotions swallow her. Wrap its intangible arms around the scarf that had once been Takeru's shirt and pull her where she felt she needed to go. She homed in on the fact her brother was alive and entertained nothing else.

The Digidestined, its leadership in particular, would forgive her for concentrating not on Taichi's talent, not on his legacy, not on his unnatural and freaky aptitude for strategy, but on her relationship with him—her _dependency_ on him. Everyone knew she **needed** him, her last connection to the life—to the _family_ she had left behind years ago.

Despite the Vice-Chairman's confident declaration of the Chosen Child's death, the man was apparently alive, incarcerated somewhere within the bowels of the DSI's Military & Administration Wing. The acclaimed leader and visionary of the Chosen Children was underneath Shinjuku, and surely, the fact he was announced dead to the world signaled his treatment in there was going to be horrific if they didn't act now.

Even in her daydreams, the Child of Light was already envisioning the worst, imagining the brightness in his eyes expunged by his captors. She imagined a man resigned to a hopeless life as a tormented prisoner of war, blood oozing out of his body as the DSI subjected him to tortures only a species as belligerent and cruel as humanity could ever design.

The argument that suddenly exploded between Daisuke's surrogate brother and this third party was charged by emotion. Christopher's depreciation of Taichi's life was not taken kindly by everyone around him, while Veemon took grave offense at its implications on his friendship and the man's view of the situation surrounding them.

He was an outsider, they were all being reminded. He had nothing to do with the war beyond whatever tied him to the Digital Suppression Initiative and he **wanted** nothing to do with it. He refused to involve himself further than it, and he couldn't care less if it disgusted everyone around him, poisoned the people he met with muddy thoughts.

The blue dragon's flabbergasted reaction and his focus on what he meant to the blond was a disturbing spectacle. Somehow, during the time they have spent with each other, the Chosen had latched onto the man as though he was an equivalent stand-in for Daisuke Motomiya. He projected his—_Daisuke_'s values and view of the world onto Christopher Van Numen and was now being punished for assuming he was no different from his true partner, for casting his lot in someone who possessed no obligation to stick to him, whether it be a moral or binding one.

For a long time, Christopher held a stoic expression. It was a horrendous display of apathy before the pitiful disposition of the blue dragon, who whined as he was labeled a tool, a _baby_ stricken with wanderlust and nostalgia, an unneeded burden weighing down on the man's shoulders. Only when Veemon called him out directly for his selfishness did his lips curl into an offended frown, baring teeth no differently from the way the Digimon of Miracles revealed his canines.

There was nothing they could do but watch. A man who emerged unscathed from a barrage of thirty high-caliber bullets was a force to be reckoned with. They knew nothing about Christopher and the risks of investigating the full extent of his abilities were nothing short of cataclysmic, for both their lives and the people sheltering beneath their wings.

To gamble with such stakes was foolish.

"Selfish?" he cocked an eyebrow. Hikari tightened her quivering hold on her scarf, taking a deep breath as Christopher Van Numen closed the distance between him and Veemon, his passive face erupting into a twisted scowl that was sure to haunt the young woman for days to come. "SELFISH?"

He thrust his finger out at the Digimon of Miracles. "Look who's talking!" Those crimson eyes blinked as the digit collided with the dragon's horn. They narrowed the second Veemon regained control over his reflexes. If he wanted to, the Chosen could've bitten the finger in an attempt to sever it from its owner. Christopher was aware of this, yet he showed no fear and absolutely no hesitation on his part. "Who forced me into manual labor? Who fought to go with me to the Real World? Who chose to kill time touring Tokyo?"

Christopher was already on horrible terms with the blue dragon, yet fearlessly he leaned forward, unafraid of receiving any physical harm, if not from the toothless digimon in front of him then the audience captivated by this spectacle. "Who's asking me right now to _go out of my way_ and help someone _I don't even know_?" Where was this fearlessness coming from? Why did he have such arrogant confidence? Didn't he know Hikari could change Tailmon from a petite cat to a harbinger of divine judgment by her whims alone? Did he even care? Was he truly so powerful he could act like an asshole with impunity?

"**YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SELFISH, VEEMON!**"

Goldenrod eyes flared with rage. His voice thundered in Yagami's ears, causing them to ring violently. Static resonated throughout, the kind normally encountered in concerts and at volumes far beyond what was tolerable for the human ear.

If Veemon had been floored by intimidation as Hikari and her peers were, his muzzle showed no signs of it. Neither was it shaped in a confounded expression. Instead of shrinking away, instead of backing down, the blue dragon released a bestial and savage growl. "NO WAY! Are you _deaf_? I **just** told you, friends help each other. I was just doing the right thing!"

"Don't even try changing the sub—

"BUT YOU WERE **HAPPIER**!" Veemon's ire tried hard to overwrite his grief, but it was just as feisty and competitive in its push for dominance. No longer conscious of his own words, his mouth released the sentences as soon as they came to mind. The Digimon of Miracles let his heart lead him, feeding everything he verbalized with emotions so intense Hikari felt it reverberate throughout the entire chamber. "I played with you—told you so many stories—brought you everywhere—helped you live out that old dream of yours. I got you to enjoy life and have fun! To smile and laugh and let loose! And for just a teensy weeeeeensy bit of time—for one _meeeaaasssly_ night, you forgot whatever's keeping you down, whatever you're worrying about to death. You forgot **everything**!"

Christopher Van Numen refused to talk. He responded to everything with a fierce glower. Absolutely frightening. The Child of Light shivered from fear. She knew—oh, she knew she'd be paralyzed if those goldenrod eyes peered at her instead of Daisuke's surrogate brother. Tailmon, thankfully, noticed the state of her human half and took hold of her hand, understanding her position and comforting the woman.

Her gesture soothed Hikari's shaken spirit.

If only Daisuke was around. "I know you're, you're always held up with this sadness and—a-a-and, and this need to _blitz_ through everything to accomplish _something_." From the way he bleated—forced himself to say these words in front of that twitching, acrimonious glare, Veemon clearly needed his partner right now. "You've got important things to do. I get that! This æther stuff is important and same for that realm thing and 'balance' you're obsessing over. Those are all the things _you_ want to address right away, but—b, but…

"You're not the only one who's got important stuff, Christopher! I've got my own things too—things **I **want to chase right _now_, but because we're friends, I put you first. **I PUT YOU FIRST!**" Veemon couldn't hold his tears back anymore. Drops of water cascaded down his muzzle as his mental walls collapsed, overwhelmed by the pressure and shock of the blond's betrayal. His voice became a chain of stuttering whimpers; it broke Hikari's heart to hear him like this. "So, s-s-so-why—why can't you just do the same thing? Why won't you re, _reciprocate_?" When I'm asking _you_ for help? Do it, **for me**! Harmonious Ones, even Daisuke puts his friends first!"

Suspense was replete in the atmosphere. Tension gripped all who were unfortunate enough to observe the argument. Veemon waited for an answer, sniffling occasionally, still suppressing the sorrow on his face. Hikari had never seen such an expression on the dragon's snout. Never. Not in her entire life.

Veemon was the epitome of smiles, of cheerfulness, of happiness and fun. A living embodiment of a child's innocence. This facet of him hadn't changed a single bit since his first contact with Daisuke Motomiya at the Spire of Courage ten years ago. Seeing his normally concave grin in an overturned frown was disturbing.

How could Chris do this to him?

At the mere mention of Daisuke's name, an expression of unfettered anger came down upon the man without any warning. "You don't get it at all, do you?" What should have been an apathetic and emotionless poker face suddenly contorted into a vicious scowl and a pair of fists shaking from barely sufficient restraint. "Like **hell **I'm setting aside _anything_ for you! You're just a f*cking tool. YOU'RE **NOTHING** TO ME!"

Veemon jolted from the intensity of Chris' censure. It left him nonplussed. It left him completely immobile. His snout was agape, hanging open from utter astonishment. With the dragon petrified by his declarations, the Chosen Child saw how much trauma Christopher was inflicting on the Digimon of Miracles.

"And you know what pisses me off the most?" Hikari's stomach turned. This _user _wasn't finished yet! "You keep on saying 'Daisuke this', 'Daisuke that'." Chris shoved his index finger straight into Veemon's skull. Thrust the digit hard on his head, causing the poor dragon to stumble backwards. "Damn it, you sentimental _boy_,I'M NOT DAISUKE! I'm **not** him and I'll **NEVER** be like him!"

This was too saddening to watch. Veemon was visibly upset. He couldn't talk straight anymore. "I, I, I-I-I, I know—I know you're—I know you're not Daisuke," the Chosen whimpered. "But I… B-but—Chris, I **know** what I felt from you. You, y-you can't lie about that sort of thing a-a-and…"

All the strength in Veemon's voice faded away, yielding to sniffling and sobs. The dragon stood there, in front of Christopher, broken and in tears, mired in such sadness he was no longer talking. Hikari felt sorry for him; even she felt her own eyes accumulating tears of their own.

No matter how heartbreaking this was to watch, no matter how much Hikari sympathized with Daisuke's digital half, she anchored her mind on the one silver lining her mind perceived throughout this dark cloud. The woman felt a subtle wave of cheer saturate her being, for she knew Christopher was doing her work for him, severing everything that tied the blue dragon to him.

Veemon's pain and mortification was something neither Hikari nor anyone else around her could ever deny, yet they were needed. There was a lesson to be learned here, and it was one of the hardest for most to even catch on until well into their adulthood.

People in general weren't necessarily motivated by compassion, a sense of duty, or a code of ethics as Veemon operated. As Veemon naively _projected_ on others. By projecting his and Daisuke's beliefs and worldviews on Christopher Van Numen—by assuming his relationship with the blond had a deeper meaning behind it, the blue dragon had set himself up for this moment.

Now, now he must be thinking how wrong he was to pin a lot of pressure on the blond. How wrong he was to shove that much faith and trust in someone who wasn't his partner. Someone who had other agenda on the table. Someone who refused to compromise his objectives no matter the cost. Who was willing to string an innocent along—mislead and deceive someone who did not deserve the anguish and suffering that followed a contentious confrontation for his own sake.

The Child of Light hoped he didn't latch onto her next. Ashamed as she was of it, not even Hikari was exempt from this reality, for she was just as human as the rest of the world. She, too, was selfish. She, too, was motivated not by compassion, duty, or morality, but by a self-centered desire.

What fueled her initiative for what was clearly an impossible mission _without _Chris' help was the compelling desire to seize command over her life—stand up on her own feet and fight for what she desperately needed beside her. For her dear and beloved brother.

Indeed, what drove her desire to see Christopher and Veemon separated were not her best wishes for the blue dragon, but rather her yearning for a remnant of her life during the Golden Age. Before the degeneration that succeeded the Fourth of July massacre. If Daisuke Motomiya was still alive, if her best friend was not completely gone from the Earth, then the woman had a chance at recouping one of her greatest **personal**losses of all time. At recovering from the slump she had fallen into, this utter and pathetic dependence on her brother and her digital half.

Hikari Yagami focused on the long-term benefits of Veemon's suffering.

Daisuke's surrogate brother was going to be safe. He wasn't going to die in some nondescript cavern. Daisuke was going to survive because she kept his digimon alive, well, and safe; the both of them were going to be _happier_.

Veemon would get his partner back. Hikari, her best friend.

Then they were going to push the Digital Suppression Initiative and this culture of interspecies repression off its grand throne and realize her dream—the Chosen Children's dream—the _Digidestined_'s dream of harmonic coexistence with digimon throughout the world.

* * *

Christopher Van Numen knew he falsely accused Veemon of being selfish the instant the charge went out. Yet he played the act so well, attacking the dragon where it hurt and feigning such sincerity and conviction. The fact he managed this so brazenly without flinching from the utter disconnect between his own feelings and his choices frightened him to no end.

Was this truly the person he was now? Was this devastating sham a product of the journey his accomplishments brought down on him?

Because Veemon forced Christopher into helping with the Satellite Base's rehabilitation, because he fought him to secure a place in this trip to the Real World, because he yielded to his nostalgia and memories of the wonderful past and encouraged Chris into this tour throughout Tokyo, and because of his occasional allusions to Daisuke, he was "selfish"?

All he had to gain from his friendship with the blond were the reprieve from his own loneliness and the strong possibility of a reunion with his true partner. Despite these, the little dragon did notentertain such selfish intentions. Aware of everything they've done the past week, Veemon exhibited tremendous interest in the places he's been and the people he's met, returned his inputs with stories and details of his own, and openly appreciated their relationship.

Even when he had every reason to thrust his search for Daisuke and pass on the Orange Box during that critical moment at the steakhouse, the Digimon of Miracles swallowed his feelings and encouraged the Tokyo tour, yielding not only to his nostalgia but also his desire to give Christopher his gratitude in his own little way.

For all of these, he was insulted—faulted—chastised for some selfishness that was all but nonexistent, when the blue dragon had nothing but someone else's welfare in mind. When he focused on nothing more than this friendship they shared. When he had put him first and succeeded.

Veemon was right. There was no way Christopher could lie about feeling happier, about forgetting everything that had plagued him, even if it was fleeting at best. Only those who were true outsiders at this point might have seen the Chosen's impulsive whims as self-centered.

There were three reasons why people befriended others. The first was shallow, for a friend always had some useful quality or asset. The second was anchored on the human need for communication, for a friend supplied company, allowing one to share in the ups and downs of another's life. The last was transcendental, for a friend was valuable in itself.

This digimon had somehow equated the blond with all three and placed him on a pedestal as high as that of the man he called his true partner, his human half. Receiving Chris' series of devaluations and allegations was shattering. It reduced the cute dragon into a broken shell—rendered him mute. Unable to speak anything, as anything resembling coherent words spluttered into sniffles and chokes and coughs and tears.

Christopher Van Numen locked his eyes on Veemon's dejected gaze. He ceased his attacks, hesitating at the massive wave of sadness permeating the dragon. Keen senses alerted the man to the constricting nausea that paralyzed him and all the signs accompanying the intense pain of betrayal. The palpitating breaths. The pained shine in those scarlet eyes. The open mouth. The clenched fists.

He couldn't help averting his goldenrod spheres. Chris was certain more prolonged staring at what he had done to his only friend in this universe could only eat away at the mental fortress that afforded the blond his ability to make hard and extremely difficult choices. He couldn't let his real emotions leaking out now. He couldn't succumb to Veemon's pitiful state, not when he was doing this for **his** own good. For **his** sake.

It was all because of his friendship with him that he was following through with this. God help the man see this to the very end. Clenching his fists to the extent his fingernails dug into those calloused palms was just one thing his conscience and heart could endure for so long.

In spite of such conviction, a part of Christopher hoped Veemon disregarded every word coming out of him like a running faucet. A part of him prayed Veemon sensed the disjunction that divided acts from thoughts. Lies from truth. Illusion from reality. Even his anger at those occasional comparisons and allusions to Daisuke's hypothetical actions were exaggerations, as there was simply no need for him to tell him off like this.

_Vee, _he silently pleaded, _remember what I did for you and take everything right now at face value, please. Don't believe everything I'm— _

To watch the crestfallen stupor strike the dragon numb and drain all the energy from his two-inch muzzle was horrendously disappointing. The truth Chris wanted Veemon to perceive remained hidden in the shadows, concealed by a poker face those wide, crimson eyes failed to penetrate. Truly in another life, the blond could have been one of the greatest actors of his time.

_He needs a hug._

Unable to resist, a pair of goldenrod eyes panned slowly towards Veemon. Their gazes met. Chris couldn't break it off. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't turn away from the saltwater surging down his glistening eyes. He couldn't deflect his attention from this miserable countenance. Guilt flooded his mental fortress, screaming this pathetic image was all his fault, all his doing, all his culpability and his alone.

_Goddammit, he needs a hug!_

Whatever was left of their relationship could **still** be salvaged! One retraction, one tight embrace for several minutes, and one apology profuse in sincerity and clarifications were keys to saving the friendship from complete and utter dissolution. This last thought snuck past the blond's self-restraint, prompting a sudden twitch to run through his arms.

Veemon was quick to catch the slip-up. A wordless whine pulsed through the blue dragon as he stepped forward, eager—anxious—to end this. To validate and refresh their friendship.

"I'm sorry…" He caught Veemon and squeezed as tightly as he could without harming him.

And so Christopher Van Numen yielded to his own emotional weakness.

.

.

Rather, he _would_ have.

If it wasn't for the memory of Ivan Beleegar's head being disintegrated by a cloud of æther in the hands of an enemy.

If it wasn't for the devastating sparkle of Sally's death.

If it weren't for the echoes of her last words.

If it weren't for the reminders of the sadistic Felicia Portal.

.

.

_Chartreuse orbs glared at the blond, paralyzed and pinned in place by a crown of crystallized æther. Felicia approached him, ready to deal the final blow that would end it all. "You are a curse. Bringing tragedy wherever you go." _

_She gazed deep into his goldenrod eyes. "This is __**your**__ destiny," the Realmdrifter decreed. "No matter how much you deny it, how long you keep running from it, hiding behind an anonym."_

.

.

Christopher had caught Veemon by the elbows. He did not hug him. He held him in place. He looked straight into those eyes and reached deep within himself to roar. "But I'm not one of you! I'm not a Chosen whatever. I'm not obligated to _anyone here_." He shoved him away, causing the dragon to stumble, lose his balance, and fall on his rear. "And that includes **you**!"

The Digimon of Miracles did not pick himself up. A bitter disappointment tainted his tongue. "And it goes the same way," Veemon mumbled, his disenchanted gaze trained to the ground, not knowing Chris himself shared his very discontent.

"Exactly!" the blond actor emulated an upbeat tone, sounding as if he was relieved at getting through to this stubborn dragon. "**YOU AND I HAVE TWO DIFFERENT PRIORITIES!**"

* * *

The man who called Veemon a tool, who denounced his friendship with him, pointed at the Chosen and then everyone else in this cavern, who had respected their argument since it had begun. "You and _everyone_ else in this room—in this damn mountain!—have Daisuke and Taichi to worry about!"

"As you said," he flicked his thumb and struck his sternum twice with it. "I have my _own _shit to take care of. I have my own goals. My own priorities."

A flurry of memories returned to the blue dragon. Memories depicting the few moments of bonding they shared. His head rested on Christopher's soft hair, neck flanked firmly by the two legs sitting on his shoulders. _"My conviction," _he said, holding the small metal bar that, on his mental command, transformed into the black spatha many feared._ "To alter my fate."_

"_One of the most powerful objects to __**ever exist**__,_" repeated the information Chris told him a few days before their departure from the Digital World. _"You can do thousands of miracles with it…."_

"The Realmstone." Veemon did not hesitate voicing the artifact's name, no longer caring whether it drew attention from the spectators.

"YES!" Christopher yelled, almost a little too gleefully. "And I will do **whatever** it takes to get it."

Veemon sniffled. "E-even if, e-e," he whimpered. "even…" the words were right on his tongue, prepared to fly straight into the blond's ears. But he couldn't say it. Christopher managed to say all those horrible words, all those desolate affronts, without hesitation. The blue dragon had seen a couple of signs indicating otherwise, signaling to him it was all an elaborate act, a setup constructed for the sole purpose of breaking them up.

Regardless, Chris followed through, swiftly catching these lapses. In a quick reflection, those supposed indicators pointed to nervousness, and nothing more. Truly, the man considered Veemon a tool. Never a friend as he had thought. Everything he knew about the blond was wrosng.

"**WHATEVER** it takes," he accentuated, maintaining the icy detachment he held only for those he held no concern for. He stressed the first word. This was Christopher showing his loyalties at last. His true allegiance: himself!

Everything Veemon thought about him was an utter mistake, and it had cost him dearly, prompting tears to flow down his face like a river. The feeling of betrayal gripped him, making his body quiver.

.

.

"_You __**actually**__ trust him, Lord Veemon?" Leomon unsheathed the Beast Sword, spitting on Chris's face. Veemon was sent a hostile stare. "HE DECEIVED YOU!"_

.

.

He had been warned.

.

.

"_Lord Veemon," voiced Commandramon. "Why should we trust Chris in the first place? By his actions, you said? For all we know it could be a deliberate act of deception."_

.

.

His _real _friends warned him.

And he didn't listen!

Veemon chose to remain true to his ideals, fully believing that humans can be friends, even those who weren't related to the Chosen. Those who had no idea what digimon were. And where did that bring him?

All that did was a reunion with the Digidestined and some information on Daisuke, which merely unveiled some of the enigma enveloping his failure to keep his promise. That was all the good he ever got from it. Offsetting it was the cruel astonishment of betrayal stabbing his heart. He had viewed Christopher as a close friend and after all they've been through, the blond _still _declared him a tool.

Not once did he consider the Digimon of Miracles a friend. It was all staged. A fat lie. A poker face worn for over a week.

At least Daisuke said he loved him!

Thus Veemon learned his lesson. Discovered the truth behind the beliefs adhered to by the monsters native to the Digital World. The Chosen Children and their associates aside, no human could be trusted. Any attempt by one of them was either a ruse to expose vulnerability or an outright manipulation towards an ulterior motive.

Had he listened to the late Leomon, to Commandramon, to Stingmon, and to the wise words of every digimon he argued with in the Tactician's forces, Veemon's heart wouldn't be in so much pain. The teardrops pouring from his eyes now wouldn't be perpetuating the melancholy, the gloom, that was consuming him from within.

And he would still be the innocent blue dragon who believed in the inherent goodness of human beings disconnected from the Chosen's influence. Somewhat contradictory, but true nonetheless.

"Mmmmmmm," he hummed, letting the anger and sorrow coalesce. Then his gaze swung abruptly, glaring straight at the blond-haired bully. Strong emotions invoking snarls and sobs percolated within Veemon. The regret and contrition hidden behind the cruel front exuded by those goldenrod eyes was visible to him, but only if the Chosen still possessed his lucidity.

The lucidity he had lost not so long ago, when he concluded people were unworthy of his trust, not without being screened by his human friends first. Out of the blue, Veemon reached for Christopher's shoulders and climbed on his body, ascending from the front.

Emitting the loudest battle cry he had ever bellowed in his life Veemon seized the man's head with _both_ hands and slammed his thick skull into it, intent on breaking something. The soft sound of Chris's bones cracking was music to his ears. To his disappointment, this tune evaded his hearing, if it had been evoked at all. That the accursed betrayer fell on the ground with a wound on his forehead was Veemon's only consolation. It was certain to leave an ugly blemish for the weeks to come. Christopher Van Numen got what he deserved.

"THEN GO!" Veemon seethed, releasing all his emotions simultaneously. "Get that stupid rock! GO DO YOUR OWN SHIT!" The blue dragon kicked his head. He disbursed no mercy, glad to see the claws of his foot draw blood from the right cheek. It did not matter if the wounds were shallow, were merely scrapes, because the fact he managed to bloody his feet got the point across and satiated a small portion of his anger.

"You're not my friend." He turned around, wiping the tears off his face before strolling towards Hikari and Tailmon, who were watching the entire scene, still stunned and speechless. "**YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND!**"

Testifying to Christopher's invincibility, laughter surged in the dragon's ears. "That's right. Walk away. Forget about me."

Veemon snubbed him and kept walking. An hour later, while riding Nefertimon to the metropolis, he would regret not stomping Chris's face with his dirty, noisome foot and smearing it with all the dirt it had accumulated.

"Forget aaaaaalllllll about me. You'll do yourself a big favor!"

Without looking back, Veemon replied with the middle finger. It was performed with discretion; he didn't want any of the observers to witness something so obscene. Daisuke couldn't have done it better himself.

* * *

Pity made Taimon's eyes water. Veemon needed to be separated from that man. _But not like this!_ As her best friend approached her and her partner, she could perceive the dirge contorting his face. He was fighting to stay strong. After condemning that man and officially cutting off all semblances of a relationship with him, it would do no good to break down in the war room. Not with all the spectators.

The white cat empathized with the blue dragon. Her emotions compelled her to trot forward and meet him halfway. She widened her arms and was about to embrace Veemon when he stopped her, addressing the Digimon of Light and her human half. "Tailmon, Hikari," he croaked. A voice unheard of from such a happy character spoke from his muzzle. "Let's, l-le, let's go," he urged, walking past the cat.

From such a close distance discerning the disturbing trembles Veemon's body made was easy. Warm comfort had to be applied to soothe—to assuage—the cracks that broke his heart. Betrayal can do that to someone. Even more so when the traitor was someone once considered close and tight. Whether he had known that someone for one week or one decade, none of it would matter. The pain would always be the same: unbearable to the point one wished for death, but completely harmless that anyone would survive it and walk through life, never forgetting the mental agony. Tailmon had never seen anything like it. Nonetheless she hoped any effort exerted to keep Veemon sane wouldn't be futile.

_Tch_, she grunted. How could that man be so tepid, making a great friend of hers cry? Tailmon dared to look back, aspiring to intimidate the blond with a freezing glare. She gasped.

The blond had risen, mere moments after Veemon smashed his forehead with a headbutt powerful enough to crack solid rock. Worse, his arm was outstretched, having hurled something towards them. The item, sailing through the air, had been thrown in their direction. It resembled a black strap adorned with several pouches.

It was thrown so suddenly Tailmon had no time to think on the spot and react accordingly. "Veemon," she shrieked. "BEHIND YOU!"

Fortunately he heard her. He rotated 180° instantly, eyes dilating at the sight of the projectile speeding towards him. His instinctive reaction was to lift his hands to protect his face. It astounded the Digimon of Light to witness the item zip past her feline muzzle and land straight in Veemon's hands. _A perfect catch!_

They inspected the item. "This is..."

Veemon's murmur indicated recognition. Out of curiosity, Tailmon assessed it. A utility belt, manufactured using FXT ballistic nylon. She spotted the hilt of a pistol sticking out of a holster. "This is mine," the dragon said, clenching it. She heard him breathe as he gazed back at that man one last time. There was no telling what emotions were coursing within him at that very moment.

Whatever they were, Christopher stepped on Veemon's emotions with laughter, his every breath accompanied by a sinister cackle Tailmon heard only from the cruelest of monsters, Vamdemon and Demon included. "NOW GO, YOU F*CKING LIZARD!" It was over.

"DIE FOR ALL I CARE!"

Their relationship was over.

Tailmon saw the blue dragon turn away, murmuring a name only she could hear. "S, sel, selfish asshole." Then he ran, exiting the room as quickly as possible. He was whimpering softly, sobbing, no longer capable of suppressing the imminent emotional breakdown. Anguish overwhelmed him.

"Veemon!" Hikari and Tailmon cried, running after him. For sure they would find the Chosen crying when they caught up to him in the tunnels.

Tailmon looked back one last time before exiting. She never trusted him in the first place, but the only thing she wanted to see was some sign of compunction. This sort of separation was never easy, and even the white cat wasn't so cruel as to wish for this to have happened, even if it saved a fellow Chosen's life in the long run.

One glance was all she needed.

Tailmon was convinced.

Without a doubt…

Christopher and Veemon were friends no more.

* * *

Minutes passed after Hikari and Tailmon left. Christopher Van Numen simply stood there, rooted in place, eyes trained at the thick curtain hanging by the wall.

The air within the war room was too stifling for anyone to speak up. The core group bore witness to the complete and irreversible dissolution of a young, but strong friendship. On the stone table stood the Orange Box for all to see, set there when Chris took Shuu's assault rifle. Now it had been forgotten in the wake of this terrible scene.

Renamon was anxious. The yellow fox had a knack for reading people, whether her subjects were digimon or human. Like an animal from the Real World, she could sense the emotions passing through one's own heart. Her time with Rika, furthermore, also honed her ability to read others. (After all, there _was_ a reason why someone under her feared her management. Disciplinarian aptitude plus this skill equaled terror for anyone unlucky enough to be under her.)

Though he did not show it, Christopher was vexed. As much as Veemon was. Every word that strengthened the dragon's emotional torment had hurt him as well. It was surprising to have seen him perform this act so well Renamon was the only one who saw through the blond's false self. On one hand, she pitied the man, as he didn't like this scenario at all. On the other hand, it perplexed her. Why did he do this? Why trouble both the Chosen and himself with this unnecessary, emotional baggage? Was he being a masochist?

Or did he carry a deeper burden?

Regardless of the reasons, what worried Renamon was his emotional state. Chris was laughing again. This time, instead of feigned chortles of amusement or malice, what came out of his mouth were bleats of sadness. Each laden with sarcasm. If the fox had to guess his thoughts, he was probably seeing an irony nobody else could.

Renamon studied her peers. The blond's unusual behavior was beginning to perturb them. Her ears caught his footsteps. Christopher was beside the curtain, one hand grasping the insulated material the sad dragon hastily pushed aside. He was stroking the area Veemon touched.

Was he thinking of going after them?

Was he contemplating on apologizing to the broken digimon?

The hysterical snickers expressed the answers clearly.

He pulled the curtain back, isolating the war room from the rest of the tunnels. There _was_ a reason for its thickness, after all.

Watching the laughing Chris gyrate towards them frightened Renamon. He was losing it! After witnessing the man stand up to a barrage of bullets and a digimon's attack at its strongest, the yellow fox had long realized nothing could be more dangerous than someone like Christopher going nuts.

Something obscured his left hand. Blue light formed a shape out of thin air, solidifying into an actual object. Renamon thought she saw the same color flickering in the blond's goldenrod eyes. She stifled a gasp of horror when she discovered the object had transformed into a _silver handgun_, the sleek, futuristic design catching her attention immediately.

Renamon expected Chris to train the gun at the group.

He took a deep breath, using his free hand to wipe what seemed to be the few tears that fell from his menacing pools. "This meeting—

She was right! He _was_ losing it!

Before the man could aim the weapon or utter another word, the yellow fox made her move. She had been preparing for it ever since he started laughing like a deranged maniac. Over fifty crystal shards appeared before her when she lunged at her mentally-broken opponent. "Full charge, KOYOSETSU!"

Christopher did nothing but let the crystal shards strike him and crumble into tiny pieces of glass. Inflicted damage was negligible, if not imaginary. Renamon used her outstanding agility to veer left. _Koyosetsu _was the distraction. Blue fire encased her fists as she attacked. This was the main attack.

Renamon threw a punch at Chris. "TOUHAKKEN!" The physical strike was launched so close to him he had only an instant to dodge. The azure flames licking her balled paws closed off all hopes of escape.

Then he vanished.

_Where did he—_

BOOM! Chris's combat boots struck Renamon's chin. The blond evaded _Touhakken_ and countered with a rapid gainer. He was upright in the next moment, exploiting the fox's exposed, outstretched arm. "Very slow." It was an effortless endeavor to pluck it from the air and swing it around, dragging Renamon's tall, slender body with it. The wild swings followed a circular trail, making multiple revolutions. After about ten (Or twelve? Fifteen? She had lost count.) Renamon felt her stomach turn, the involuntary urge to vomit overcoming her conscious muscles.

Then the torture ended. The blond demon tossed her to one of the walls. She crashed into it painfully. It wasn't over yet. Chris was upon her in the moment of collision. One second passed, and over twenty punches have landed on her solar plexus. Each blow was powerful, strong enough to break limbs. Despite this, the infamous intuition of the feminine gender insisted her opponent was stronger, _far stronger_ than this, i.e., he was restraining himself.

Dizziness and the cumulative power of his attack rendered her unable to fight back. Renamon slumped on the floor, still conscious. "It took Vee many hours of sparring before he could land a hit on me." The brusque remark bared Christopher's current psychological state, simultaneously exposing the immense gap between him and the yellow fox. He watched her regurgitate blood. Plenty of it.

Receipt of this one counterattack told Renamon she had been outclassed. Christopher surpassed her in combat. It was reasonable to even speculate he could pummel the likes of Greymon, Tailmon, or even Kyuubimon with the same effortlessness he used to dispatch the Child-level fox.

He was a true monster. A force to be reckoned with.

Not even those black, reptilian _things_ could match him.

Koushirou's stepfather inferred this and roared, "RUN!" All who were able were compelled to hastily dash for the curtain. For their salvation!

"This meeting isn't over…

A thunderous whine resounded in the cavern. A globe of celadon light struck the ground mere _inches_ before Masami Izumi, stopping him in his tracks. The man looked down and let a horrified gasp loose. "What the f*ck!"

"…until I** SAY **it's over."

One large pothole now existed on the cave floor, the edges so smooth and clean it was like it had been erased from existence. This was the power of æther. Conjuring oblivion on mere contact.

The core group was terrified. There was no escape. No help was coming for them. Even if there were, the futility of it was understood in Renamon's swift defeat. Christopher sauntered towards the exit, obstructing their only hope. His delusional eyes were on them. Their fear-stricken eyes flew from the incapacitated Renamon to him and back.

"Now, where were we?"

.

.

.

* * *

_Veemon, swept by a torrent of melancholy and anger, tearfully dissolves his friendship with Christopher, knowing he and his friends are secondary to the blond's own agenda. To him it was a blatant realization of the truths behind the warnings he received in the Satellite Base: humans beyond those trusted by the Twelve cannot be trusted. Oblivious to this development, Hikari, a witness to this separation, feels relief, knowing the third nightmare has been prevented - the future has changed!_

_While the Child of Light and her digital half chase after the emotionally broken Veemon in the tunnels, intending to leave as soon as possible, Christopher goes insane from the way the relationship was destroyed beyond repair: a product of mere circumstance. Frustrated by the disconnect between pretense and reality, he takes it out on the core group, transforming into the daunting, heartless monster many an enemy had come to fear._

_What will happen next? To be continued in the next chapter of _"The Interloper"_, __Irony__!_

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[7] The drama begins. Cue character development!

[8] Anyway, the previous chapter was supposed to end when Christopher tells Veemon he wasn't going to join him, Hikari, and Tailmon. But I figured I didn't have to bother with it. The story could've gone either way, honestly writing. I could've written Chris as forcing **everyone **in the room to forget about Taichi for the moment and focus on Digital Modification and Æther, which are the greater threats. Sure, everyone gets pissed off at him, but he does get to keep Veemon's friendship, _and_ infiltrate R&D as he originally wanted.

This development, however, was the better choice. Veemon would **not** let Chris get away with enslaving his friends to this particular path and he'd rebel. He's got too much of Daisuke in him to not think about a friend that desperately needs his help in the moment. In the here and now. On the other hand, Christopher is aware of this. He's in a rather awkward position because he knows he can't bring himself to harm Veemon. He can't even say "no" to him unless he's convinced he's doing the right thing, with the "right thing" being something that'll keep Veemon alive in the long run. That translates directly to preserving the status quo and eliminating any influence he has as an outsider on current events. Hence, the dissociation and his single-minded focus on the DSI's R&D Wing.

Besides, I'm betting the readers here expected Christopher to join the three in an epic rescue mission. I'm under the impression that most authors of OC & Canon stories in _any_ fandom bring the original characters and the canon cast together, or at the very least tagging along. As _The Interloper_ **should **be considered such, I am hoping this development surprised those who expected me to do the same thing most authors do by this point. I try my hardest to break the mold after all.

[9] There are references here for _Digimon World 3_ and _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ The second one is easy to spot and should be easy to recall if you just read _Priorities_, since it showed up right at the end. Good luck finding the first one, though.

[10] Interestingly, _Priorities_ was meant to be Chapter 8. Unfortunately, the story got so much longer and longer that, well, I had to push this back ten chapters. Damn.

[11] Responses to reviews (truncated) will be placed down here, as usual. :)

**Lord Pata**: When wielded properly, drama can be a fine weapon to instigate character development. About time things started picking up, I say! :P

BTW, that is exactly why I thought it'd be proper for Veemon to flash the middle finger. Given his personality in the show, you'd never expect someone like him to do something _that_ obscene. And that's the entire point! Strong ire, or rage, can provoke people into doing things that are completely out-of-character. Speaking from personal experience, nothing can be far more vexing than someone you _liked _and _trusted_ betraying you right in front of your very eyes. A case of when the strength of the relationship matters, rather than its age.

**Rets**: Well, I DID mention in _Alive_'s post-chapter author's notes that _Priorities_ was already 95% complete when I posted it (i.e. Tailmon's and Renamon's POV's at the end of _Priorities _were being written). 2 to 3 days is not a lot when all you have to do is complete the two segments and read/reread the work word-for-word to improve everything. Of course... expect at least another month this time. I have zero progress on _Psychoanalysis_ since it's still in the planning stage, plus now that I've completed the 2nd milestone in my fic, I can focus on real life shit again. Yey!

**Coop97**: I'd like to think of it as the assertion of Christopher's pre-arrival mindset (bent on self-preservation, focus on his mission). Insanity in his case is both a symptom and a catalyst. And regarding your second note, I like using material from other chapters, as it shows how everything adds up. Don't be surprised if, later on, you still see references to the 1st and 2nd story arcs even as far as chapter 50 (which is more or less the midpoint in the entire storyline).

**RazenX**: The "Priorities" story arc isn't over yet! The DSI infiltration mission is starting in 2 to 3 chapters, and you can bet there's going to be MULTIPLE points of interest in there.


	19. Irony

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] Chapter 19 stands at **18,105 words**. A bit longer than average, but still short enough for someone to read in one sitting (give or take an hour or two lol).

[2] Please note that _Psychoanalysis_ has been split, as the first half simply became too long. It sucks, huh? I'm **always** splitting the chapters in two. At this rate, I might not even be done with the _Priorities_ story arc by the time I hit chapter 30. D: Even worse when you consider we've got battle chapters coming up right after the next chapter and you all know by now my battle chapters are most often the longest by both word count and volume.

[3] Anyway, here's the 19th chapter, _Irony_. Enjoy! By the way, there are a few things I don't own in this chapter, and any of those even interested on seeing it can just scroll down to the post-chapter notes.

* * *

He had absolute freedom.

He had absolute power.

Now that Veemon rescinded their friendship, self-restraint on Christopher's part was no longer necessary. He could do whatever he wanted without a second's contemplation over the political ramifications of his choices.

Contrary to initial impressions, the notion of zero restraint did not negate the noninterventionist principles Christopher embodied in his dealings with those he meets in his journey across the multiverse. The unrestrained ability to do anything was necessary to exercise these tenets.

Especially now.

The Digital Suppression Initiative possessed æther technology, and anything they could _possibly_ do with it was sure to cause massive ripples—repercussions on a global scale—the annihilation of the Digidestined would never compare to. Ruminating further, so long as humanity had the capability to harness this limitless power, not even the utter destruction of the DSI would prevent these changes.

Rectification must be sought and fought for at all costs.

"Listen up," boomed Christopher's voice. It echoed off the walls. His unwavering eyes fixed their stare on the Digidestined's leadership. "I'm after the DSI's R&D." He sauntered to the stone table and set his left hand on the Orange Box. "I will **not** hand you the Orange Box until you tell me where I can find it."

The core group's eyes did not leave the gun hanging in his hand. It was an ultimate weapon. The perfect firearm. It was literally oblivion, erasing anything it strikes from existence itself, if the small, cleanly-formed pothole between the stone table and the curtain could speak words.

Still, they resisted. The resistance aimed at _reasoning_ with the blond. Silent litanies prayed in this room hoped Christopher Van Numen still had an ounce of humanity left in him, a pinch of compassion. Of mercy.

"Why are you doing this?" questioned Shuu. "Why did you cut ties with Veemon? You made him cry! I thought you were friends."

"Answer the question." He refused to let Shuu wrestle control away from him. The tone of his voice _should_ have given away the consequences befalling the failure to do so.

The elder Kido clamored. All the fear he was suffering from reflected itself in his quivering legs and diffident voice. "Don't threaten us like this. You don't have to—

An orb of pale green light whizzed by Shuu's face, about a few centimeters from his cheek. "Stop wasting my time. I'm done with formalities. I'm done with meetings. Tell me where R&D is." He glared at the middle-aged adult. "Or else."

Masami Izumi was undeterred. He rose defiantly, mustering courage from Shuu's bravery. Or what was left of it, rather. "This is pointless," he asserted. "Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon are infiltrating M&A tonight. They're going to destroy the DDS." Koushirou's stepfather did not back down from Christopher's resultant glower. "When they do, we won't need your Orange Box!"

It was a good point.

The Orange Box was designed to completely bypass the firewalls, detection and tracing programs, and other regulatory measures blanketing the Internet and the underlying Digital World. Since the Digital Dive System was the source of all those, any idiot could figure out its destruction would neuter the Orange Box's usefulness.

Well, Christopher was no idiot.

He knew about this hole in his logic. Good thing he already took steps against such ratiocinations.

He shook his head. "How about this?" he propounded, walking towards Masami. "You don't give me the info I want"—Chris stuck the barrel of his gun up Masami's jaw.—"and I'll blow your head off. Kill everyone else while I'm at it."

"G-go ahead," stammered the man. All eyes were on him. The social pressure was enough for Masami to struggle with keeping up this illusion of bravado against one so powerful. "Kill me. Kill us all. I won't let a terrorist like you win."

_Damn people trying to play hero._

"You don't understand anything at all," Chris stated. His goldenrod eyes averted to the white staff for a split-second. "I can **kill** everything in this base. Every man, woman, and child. Every digimon."

The moment he said this, Mantarou, Ayumi, Kiriha, and Shuu started sweating profusely, afraid that death was on the brink of claiming the Digidestined. The funny thing was, its scythe wasn't coming from the enemy, but from someone completely unrelated to the war between men and monsters.

Fear paralyzed even Masami. Christopher knew it—his hearing and unnatural senses detected the change in his heartbeat without effort. Everyone in the room palpitated at his words, realizing Christopher held not only the key to changing this war, but also the lives of every person and monster underground.

Their eyes veered to Renamon, their lone protector. Slumped on the wall, she finally succumbed to unconsciousness minutes earlier. Not even a digimon could withstand over twenty powerful, precise strikes at a weak spot. Then they returned to Christopher.

The core group was silent, waiting. Waiting for Hikari, Tailmon, or even Veemon to return and liberate them. Waiting for **anyone**—**anything**—to come and save them from the villain terrorizing them. It didn't matter who!

"Nobody can save you," he darkly reminded. He had absolute power and absolute freedom. Nothing could stop Christopher Van Numen from carrying out his threat. Chris had a mission to accomplish, and he had sworn to see through it no matter the cost.

He didn't care if it made him a messiah loved by many. Or a devil abhorred by all.

_I will alter my fate_, he vowed. _Stop this accursed journey._

He would commit mass murder and other acts of terrorism if it meant completing his mission. Dissuasion was impossible. In fact, the only consolation he had from this moment was the fact Veemon was no longer around to coax him out of this like the sad, embittered child that he was deep inside. At least Christopher didn't need to deal with the inner struggle that would undoubtedly arise from the thought of killing the blue dragon.

Power and freedom was in his hands. Christopher dished it out without fail. And yet…

And yet…

It all felt so… **empty**. Meaningless. Their disbursement did not quench the pain weighing his chest. Neither did they abate the guilt setting his heart aflame. Worse, Chris couldn't comprehend why. Why was he feeling such remorse? Why was grief taking over?

This was what he wanted, didn't he? To be free. To be unrestrained. He didn't need friends. Every acquaintance he befriended on his journey ended up becoming time bombs anyway, time bombs his antagonists wouldn't hesitate to detonate.

"_Bringing tragedy wherever you go."_

Subconsciously, Christopher knew it wasn't that he didn't need friends. He _wanted_ it. He yearned for it. Now that he was completely alone, his loyal comrades were dead, and his beloved was dead, there was nothing left to lose but his life, yet that was the objective of his enemies.

Chris wasn't one to let his enemies win, especially when he still needed to find out _why_ they sought his life so strongly.

"_You are a curse."_

Sally's voice echoed in his mind, her ghost haunting him. _"Stop running!"_ The tone reflected an insistence to correct the predicament. Apologize to the core group. Reconcile with Veemon. Help him. It was the right thing to do.

_No._ Christopher steeled himself. It was what he _wanted_ to do. What he wanted was a completely different thing from what he _needed_. All the crap unraveling before him at this very moment was necessary. Personal feelings **must** be set aside.

Then his eyes centered on the only senior in the group. Chikara Hida, grandfather to Iori, the Child of Humility and the Digimon Tactician's right-hand general. The old man's unflinching eyes glared at him. His heartbeat was stable, indicating a calm, collected disposition.

The straight expression he wore was the perfect poker face. Not even Chris could tell whether he was afraid like the rest of his colleagues in the core group. The fact someone was actually undaunted despite the threats made startled the blond.

But was Chikara really lacking fear? Or instead, did he **doubt** Christopher's ability to follow up on his threats?

The thought of someone being _skeptical_ of his abilities infuriated him further. His goldenrod eyes soon shone bright blue, overtaking their natural hue. _Activate._ The glowing eyes stood out amidst the fluorescent lighting, seizing the core group's attention. Ayumi Ichijouji opened her mouth in a silent scream.

_Expanded map._ A three-dimensional image of the Digidestined's underground base appeared in the Realm Scanner's HUD, albeit still incomplete. It didn't matter though. Christopher intended on correcting this deficiency. _Scan and map environment._ The R-Scanner began its work, processing its order. However, he wasn't done yet. _Run simultaneous program._ Chris assured himself of maximum efficiency, having the bracer-shaped device count every person and monster in the tunnel network after he mentally set the parameters of the scan and its concurrent program.

While it worked, he kept his glowing eyes on the core group. The six people stood, aware of Chris's distracted attention yet afraid to court death itself. Chikara Hida, however, kept a watchful eye on him.

"Do you doubt me?" he sauntered closer. The core group backpedaled, ending in defensive stances. Only the old man remained stationary. Purposely immobile. Christopher hated Chikara's eyes. He wanted to rip them out, for they made him feel he was being judged. Being analyzed. The blond leaned close to the senior's wrinkly face. Azure blue eyes staring into russet brown. Neither blinked.

Was Chikara immune to terror? Or did this wizened old man possess the erudition to see through Christopher's veneer, discerning the emotional damage he tried to hide with this callous display of heartlessness?

Irked, Chris gave the edge of the stone table a light tap, not minding his own strength. The stone not only cracked, but a chip of it also fell. This not only highlighted the power he wielded unarmed, but also cautioned the other spectators of the fate awaiting them should they try disarming him or launching a concentrated ambush.

A small window appeared in his HUD. It had only been a couple of minutes, yet the Realm Scanner was already finished, to his surprise. Though he owned this machine for over a year, Christopher Van Numen had yet to fully explore and test the limits of this god-sent technology.

"There are exactly twelve thousand, five hundred, and thirty six people and digimon combined in this base," Chris murmured just loud enough for the core group to hear. "I can suffocate them all in less than fifteen minutes."

Then he felt the air molecules behind him move, making way for swift movement behind his back. He gyrated swiftly, moving so fast the person who dared to sneak up behind him backed away.

It was Mantarou.

His pupils were shivering like jello.

He was only trying to plop his hand on Chris's shoulder. To get his attention.

"Look, dude," chanted Mantarou. The man failed to conceal the dread coloring his words. "Shuu's right. Why **did** you cast Veemon out like that?" He challenged the blond terrorist, remembering—believing—he could reach Chris's buried humanity. "He didn't deserve any of it."

Veemon appeared in his mind. The phantom image of the blue dragon took its spot on the floor next to the stone table. He could envision him standing right in front of him, eye to eye with his waist. Veemon was staring up, beholding Christopher with crimson eyes mired in a melancholic quagmire, producing saltwater that gushed down his sad muzzle, glistening.

Insulting him further was the visage of the late Sally Xyphard ripping into his imagination. A ghostly apparition of his beloved, the priestess shook her head in disapproval, in utter, condescending disappointment.

"Shut up!" Chris banished the images from his view. Banished the thoughts clouding his head. He silenced Mantarou Inoue, confronting his assertions. "You don't know anything—

"Just what's there to know?" he disputed. "All I saw was you being a god-effin' prick." Mantarou glared at Chris, willing the courage to make eye contact with the blond's glowing orbs. "You want us to give you the info? Then get out there. Follow Veemon. Kiss and make up. You know what I mean."

"I won't retract what I said to that effing lizard."

"Don't be selfish, dude."

That word.

It was that damn word again!

"Don't, be, selfish."

_Veemon questioned Tina. He choked when he verbalized his thoughts, yet struggled to follow through and accentuate the last two words. "W-why, are you humans so selfish?"_

A feeling of misery ensnared him, holding him at bay, injecting grief. Injecting guilt. Chris was silent, trapped by his stupor. Already he was reliving the downcast feeling he got when the blue dragon spoke that word.

Selfish.

He hated it.

He despised it.

Abhorred it.

Him?

Selfish?

These people knew **nothing** about him! Yet they were JUDGING HIM. And on what? The sole basis of his actions?

What he did to Veemon, what he was doing to the core group… they did not reflect his fundamental stance. Hell no! Everything that was unfolding before them this very second was all politically correct. The separation between Christopher and who could've possibly been an awesome friend. The threats he was making on the organization. The intimidating ruthlessness present in his every action—pummeling Renamon until she passed out, firing at Masami who _could have_ lost his legs, and scaring Shuu with a warning shot zooming centimeters near his gaunt cheeks.

They were all correct. He was right. Politically.

**MORALLY**.

What Christopher was doing was for the sake of the greater good. The greater good, of the greater number.

Yet this bastard was calling him what? A selfish, "god-effin' prick"? Christopher Van Numen? Selfish? SELFISH? _F*ck you. _He was not selfish! No, he was the complete opposite of selfish!

_F*CK YOU!_

Who the hell was Mantarou to judge him like that? Everyone in this room was technically older than he was, but in the end who was more mature? Christopher underwent hardships none of these people would ever see in their lifetimes. This little conflict with the Digital Suppression Initiative was nothing.

_The war I fought in my teen years was far worse than your stupid war! _

Melancholy morphed into fury in a speed seen only on people with short fuses. Mantarou Inoue struck a mark, and the blond wasn't letting him get away with this transgression! Christopher Van Numen trained his gun on Mantarou. He did not murmur a single word in response. Neither did Chris release a feral growl.

A yell of protest erupted from Shuu. "CHRIS, NO!" He reached for the gun.

"MANTA!" So did Masami Izumi, but on both counts Christopher was just too far.

They were both too late, too slow to keep up with Chris's superhuman agility. The trigger had been pulled the moment both Masami and Shuu took a single step towards him.

Strangely enough, Mantarou had been spared. If God had been with the Digidestined at that very moment, He certainly must have been present.

Kiriha Ichijouji made his move precious seconds before Christopher raised the ultimate firearm. Chris had probably been easy to read, too consumed in his own emotions to realize this early on. The Digimon Tactician's beloved father managed to swat the gun away before the celadon orb flew out the barrel.

Kiriha's act of heorism, however, came at a great sacrifice. Christopher seized Ichijouji's left wrist, reacting instantly with a ferocious toss towards the rock wall across the room.

How the impact did not turn Kiriha's body into scarlet paste astounded the blond. The impact instead cracked his ribs. The rapid retaliation had also demolished his left arm. Both the shoulder and elbow joints were dislocated; furthermore, Kiriha's left wrist was crushed to the point he'd never regain use of it again even if he recovered.

Somehow, Christopher's enormous strength was suppressed during this counterstrike. Was this muscle memory, gained from constant, playful sparring with that whining lizard in the past week? Was his own body subconsciously resisting his attempts to harm the relatives of those he cared about?

Ayumi and Masami ran to Kiriha and verified the injuries sustained in the brief melee. Whatever happened just now was serendipitous. Providential. _Consider yourself lucky_, he thought, watching agony consume Kiriha's wife. _You're supposed to be dead._

Mantarou finally collapsed, falling on his butt. Shuu on the other hand was petrified, rooted to the spot. With Kiriha severely injured, Renamon fallen, and the threats Christopher had made on the lives of the Digidestined, from the leadership all the way down to the refugees being sheltered within the network of tunnels, thoughts of outright capitulation were already being entertained in their heads.

In fact, someone already executed these thoughts.

"Odaiba," replied a hoarse voice. "R&D's in Odaiba."

Masami roared, livid at the accession. "CHIKARA!"

Shuu and Mantarou both mumbled. "Mr. Hida…"

"What's that?" Christopher rotated. "I could've sworn you just said R&D's in Odaiba." Thirteen paces brought him to the old man. Chris towered above him, looking down at the shriveled body sitting on the rock chair.

"You heard me right."

Chris scowled. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he scoffed. "I spent last night in a motel there and I **never** saw anything like a military—"

"I admit," interrupted the grandfather, "that our info on R&D is limited, but the Digidestined _has_ executed reconnaissance missions on it in the past."

"GODDAMMIT!" Masami cursed, censuring the wisdom of the old man . "Are you mad, Chikara? Don't give in to this terrorist's—

"Terrorist?" Chikara repeated. "No. We're dealing with a political problem here." He looked at Christopher for only a few seconds. "This boy here only wants to **keep** the status quo. He is on no one's side but his own."

"Status quo?" reiterated Masami, his tone mocking and doubtful. "Garbage!"

Chikara ignored him. "This æther technology you spoke of," directing his words to the blond. "How great will be its effect on the human race?"

Christopher knew where he was getting at. Inwardly, the blond was relieved. At last, someone who actually understood his position! "Believe me, if I leave this alone, your world will change. I guarantee your society's level of technology—military, infrastructure, scientific, lifestyle—will advance several millennia in less than a decade.

"From what I know, you aren't even ready for this." Chuckling, "You haven't even sorted out this issue with digimon!"

"That's exactly why I'm giving him the information, Masami," Chikara concluded, flicking his head in Chris' direction. "The boy's"—admittedly, Chris hated being called 'boy'. He was already a full-fledged adult! Ascription to it always evoked condescension—"involvement in our war is escalating it to unforeseen proportions, auguring unprecedented consequences. We can't allow any third-party intervention.

"I suppose this was also why you cut ties with Veemon?" he asked Chris.

Christopher bowed his head. "Yes," he retorted, speaking after five seconds of silence. The blond's eyes—goldenrod once again—rolled to Shuu's direction. Of everyone in the core group, he had expected the middle-aged man to understand his actions more than anyone else. He sought a glimmer of comprehension in those beady black eyes, only to be disappointed.

Obviously Chikara's erudite demeanor came only with age.

"I won't condone your dissolution." The wizened senior was scolding him, fueling Christopher's shame even more. But he didn't dare retaliate, not when he was on the verge of receiving information. "You could've ended your friendship with him in a better way. One more peaceful. Less painful. Veemon did not deserve any of that."

Christopher Van Numen grew tired of the chastising. "How I deal with my problems is **NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS**!" His eyes narrowed. "Now get to the point, old man," he growled. "You _know_ I got a mission to accomplish ASAP."

Chikara surveyed the War Room. So did Christopher. Nobody liked the way the conversation was going. The Digidestined, through Iori Hida's grandfather, was effectively acceding to the blond's stipulations, verbalized concurrently with threats of death and genocide. In the long run, resistance was crucial. Securing Chris's alliance would've been a far better scenario, as the balance would easily tip to the Digidestined's favor.

Nonetheless, Christopher's reasoning, once clarified by Chikara, promulgated the point. The blond's presence was too influential, its consequences too unpredictable and encompassing. He was too dangerous to even associate with. The Digidestined, no, the Real and Digital worlds both, were better off without him and his alien technology.

"Past recon missions on R&D were mostly unsuccessful," continued Chikara, beginning from where he left off. "Most M&A soldiers don't know its location, and unfortunately, they're more common than the DSI's administrative workers. The only solid intel we got on R&D was an underground train running between M&A's and R&D's lowest levels."

"Don't you have anything on its actual location?"

There **had** to be a door or secret entrance somewhere! Logistically speaking, DSI employees who lived within Odaiba and nearby wards would be vexed to commute to M&A, descend the Shinjuku building, and take _another_ train all the way to R&D. It just wasn't logical. Not everyday.

"At best," answered Chikara, "We only unearthed rumors of it being in Odaiba."

"Just… rumors?" Christopher couldn't hide his disappointment. He came all this way, only to discover this? This wasn't what he came to Mt. Fuji for! "That's it?" He would never admit it, but Chris was now feeling the same disappointment Veemon underwent when he learned Daisuke was never in Mt. Fuji to begin with.

The option of going to M&A for R&D was rejected immediately. Not only would it be a waste of effort and time but also the resulting confrontation with Veemon, however awkward, could derail Christopher from his true goals. Distraction was something he couldn't afford. Not when he was operating on borrowed time. After all, Felicia Portal could show up at any moment. "Nothing solid?"

The old man shook his head. "On the Odaiba entrance, no. Only someone who worked for R&D would know where it was. Unfortunately, we never captured someone who had a history with R&D."

Christopher was no longer listening. Unlike the Digidestined, unlike the Chosen Children, he **had** a contact. He knew someone who worked for R&D. That woman he met at Konata's. Tina Fujieda. The ex-Modifier. Chances were high the retired soldier wouldn't relinquish the information so easily, but at this point, Chris would do anything to get it. Even if it meant breaking her.

As far as the Digidestined were concerned, he stood, turning his back on Chikara. He gazed towards the curtain. "I'm done here." Christopher walked to Shuu and, before the man could retract, seized his elbow and dragged him out. "But I'm borrowing Shuu until I find my way out. He knows the quickest way out of here, **plus** I might"—his eyes passed over the others: Ayumi, Masami, Mantarou, and even the downed Kiriha and Renamon—"need a hostage."

He smirked. "Just in case." _You guys do something stupid again_, Chris completed in retrospect.

* * *

The Chosen Child of Light did her best to follow Veemon, but the blue dragon ran too quickly. She lost him within seconds of exiting the war room after him. Hikari swore under her breath. The Digimon of Miracles must have wanted to flee the room so badly he absconded on all fours. It was the only explanation for his sudden burst of speed.

Finding herself lost, standing in a room of diverging paths, she turned to her loyal and faithful partner. "Tailmon, can you track his scent?"

With a smirk, "It's hard to miss the smell of earth and new leather." She watched the white cat lift her nose and sniff the air for a few seconds before bounding off towards the farthest tunnel. "This way!"

Veemon could _definitely_ run. If it wasn't for Tailmon's sharp nose, they wouldn't have found him in the tunnel he decided to take refuge in. Her coquelicot eyes following the Digimon of Light's movements through the tunnels—whose fluorescent lighting and well-made signs failed to dampen their twisting, labyrinthine temperament—Hikari thought the blue dragon had been so hurt and affected by the sudden dissolution of his friendship with Christopher he did not bother to read the signs, but instead went for passages of, as she could clearly see from the decreasing transient population, devoid of anything that would require social interaction.

Tailmon decelerated. Hikari huffed, regaining strength from the exhaustion. She had been jogging for a good fifteen minutes. Tailmon could've gone faster if she wanted to. It wouldn't have mattered if she had escaped from the younger Yagami's sight. Her digivice was more than sufficient to guide Hikari along the feline digimon's path.

Of course, Tailmon was quite courteous to her partner.

Correction: to her friends.

When she slowed down, Hikari finally took in the surroundings. The tunnel led to a dead-end. Seeing the lack of people, _not a toilet._ Fallen pieces of gravel and rock, moist and dry alike, littered the sides of the cave, resting below obvious cracks and alcoves in the walls. If she had to guess, these were the marks of Veemon's punches and his trademark headbutts, executed out of frustration, performed to excrete the grief and fury his heart fueled, pound by pound.

"Veemon!"

Tailmon's shrill chirp brought Hikari to reality. They had found him, squatting in a rather tight, barely-noticeable nook of the dead-end passage. The young adult witnessed her digimon partner sprint to the blue dragon's side, locking him into a sweet embrace within her arms. So tight it was virtually intimate.

She understood this was necessary the moment Hikari assessed the Chosen's disposition, scrutinizing his entire body. Top to bottom. Head to toe.

Veemon's red eyes should have been bright, made lustrous by the intensity of his cheer and exuberance. His behavior was supposed to be lively, echoing his childish and playful disposition.

Instead, the state of Daisuke's partner was pitiful. Absolutely pitiful. Daisuke Motomiya himself would be all over his surrogate brother, pampering his faithful partner with care and emotional concern. He also would have taken the initiative to fight and floor the heartless cretin who induced this appalling state.

Those bright, cheery eyes were mired in melancholy and grief. Dried tears lined Veemon's muzzle, the part where the jaw began its outward protrusion. The knuckles of his fists and the center of his forehead (conveniently recognized by the eponymous V-shaped mark) were bleeding lightly, indicating the sheer ferocity and frequency required to completely drain his troubled sentiments.

The rest of his body was limp. Unresponsive. So severe were the separation's effects on him, the Digimon of Miracles did not make any sign or grunt of acknowledgment when Tailmon hugged him.

"—mon, it's okay," Tailmon was saying.

"No it's not," he whimpered, still perturbed by the division. "It's not."

"Listen to me!" She shook the blue dragon. Hard. "_That man_ is a jerk. A tight asshole who's only in it for himself." Tailmon flicked her hand, gesturing to Veemon's pathetic exhibition of himself. "Look at you! A **real friend** won't do this to you!"

Tailmon hugged him again. "I'll always be here for you, Veemon."

Silence.

"I promise."

Life returned to Veemon's eyes. Those crimson pools of his flickered upon Tailmon's verbalization of the two words.

I promise.

It was a statement all the liars, cheaters, swindlers, and other lowly dicks in the world dished out like fliers and marketing advertisements. Circling among them was the axiom that promises were made to be broken.

Nonetheless, there were those who were so naïve, so innocent, or so idealistic these two words were held as high as God Himself, its very implications elevated on a pedestal sitting high above the clouds.

To them the _I promise_ was a commitment. A personal guarantee. Nobody made promises that were _likely_ to be broken. That was asinine. No. For adherents of idealism, promises were made when they exuded the conviction to carry it out **no matter what happens** and **at all costs**.

Being unable to keep a promise was a great dishonor, an act—a scenario—that annihilated all bridges constructed over time by trust. Granted, there was a fine line between a fragile promise and an unbreakable covenant (delineated by the profession called lawyers), but for idealists, fundamental moralists, and for naïve, innocent creatures like Veemon, a promise was technically no different from an oath. Or a covenant, for that matter.

What came out of Veemon's mouth did not surprise Hikari. "Can you really promise that?"

She could relate. The lady Yagami, in her preadolescent and teenage years, was once upon a time as idealistic and innocent as Veemon. The blue dragon's skeptical inquiry summoned memories. Memories of her older brother. Taichi and the many promises he made to her.

Promises that had all been broken.

To protect the Digital World from human exploitation.

To maintain the cordiality and munificence of the relationship between men and monsters. (And for that sake, hunt down the perpetrators of the Fourth of July massacre.)

To support Hikari's lifestyle and ambitions to become a renowned teacher.

To keep the Yagami family and their digimon together under one roof, safe from any attempts at assassination.

To restore communications between the Digidestined and the Digital Monsters.

To find Takeru Takaishi's corpse (and give it a proper cremation).

To determine Daisuke Motomiya's fate.

To remain by her side and never leave it.

Indeed, Taichi Yagami shattered each one. Yes, some of it was not his fault, but many times, it was made with an ulterior motive. Every promise was made to conceal from her the nightmarish currents flowing underneath the still surface of politics. He did not want Hikari worrying about him, or about anything else.

All he wanted was for his younger sister to live a carefree life. A normal life. Where she would grow up to be a mature, independent woman.

Taichi was a person who did not see promises the way she did. Hikari did not need to know Veemon in and out like the back of her hand to believe he looked at promises the way she did. It was so obvious from his hopeful eyes alone.

"Can you, **really**, promise that?" Veemon asked again. He sniveled. "I, I-I, I've been, b-betrayed three times already, Tailmon." Raising a hand, "F-first, by Daisuke. Then, by, b-by, Ken, and now, n-n-now, b-b-b-by, by, C, C… Chris." He used his fingers to count. Hikari easily discerned its shaking.

"Yes, Veemon," coolly comforted Tailmon. "I can."

A scary thought intruded her thoughts as the Child of Light watched her digimon partner reaffirm her words. The _I promise _was exercised to abate the blue dragon's weeping. Hikari was fully aware Tailmon couldn't be expected to keep it.

A promise to Veemon was and never will be first priority.

It struck her: the white cat was acting just like her idiotic brother. Who knew she and Veemon shared this philosophy on promises?

Hikari's experience on the path of disappointment she had trodden for the past ten years prompted her to saunter to his side. She knelt. Cupping his muzzle in her clothed palms, "Veemon," she said warmly, "the **least** we can promise is our help in finding Daisuke." This way, he would be spared from further disappointment.

The blue dragon replied with a nod. No verbal reciprocation. Hikari struggled to keep tears of pity from surging out her shimmering, coquelicot pools, seeing the uncharacteristic sadness etched so ostensibly on his snout. _Thank God he stopped crying._

Moss-colored arm warmers impregnating her arms wrapped themselves around Veemon and hugged him for a good three seconds, adding a pat on the back for more comfort. It was the least she could do. It was the least _anyone_ in their right mind and heart could do.

Tailmon lingered close to the blue dragon, probably wondering what else could be done for her sorrowful friend.

"Please," he requested, "leave me alone. Let's just, l-let's just get out of here." Veemon gazed at both her and Hikari pleadingly. "Please. I'll just follow you…"

The Digimon of Miracles had just started on the road to recovery. Hikari's instinctive propensity for empathy insisted she assent to his requests. They had to leave as soon as possible. Thus, the group had little time to prepare for the infiltration mission ahead.

Hikari couldn't help but smile. Even in this sorry state, the blue dragon was living up to his mythical reputation. The tunnel he chose to isolate himself in led directly to an armory, and one for combatants.

Good thing she was keen and observant.

Good thing the Digimon of Light paced herself.

* * *

"I still don't understand it."

Shuu Kido was leading Christopher to the nearest exit, both hands tucked in his olive blazer's pockets. All three of its buttons were closed, providing some security against the man he escorted to the surface.

A _false_ sense of security. Chris's threats, however pompous and ridiculous they sounded given his human form, weren't something to be taken lightly. He already proved his fearsome disposition for battle and mass destruction.

The tunnel their feet were taking them through ascended with a manageable incline. What used to be slippery rocks strewn across the cavern floor was pavement. A thin layer of cement spread across gravel, as far as Chris could observe. Even the width and height of the passage was growing in size.

Chris noticed Shuu had remained silent the entire time, brooding over what had happened in the war room. The blond had effectively silenced the Digidestined with a hostage, not to mention the fact he could demolish the entire base in a heartbeat at his heart's desire. Not wishing to socialize any further, Chris simply opted to watch where they were going, his goldenrod eyes shimmering in its eerie blue hue. A clear indication of the Realm Scanner's activation.

The indestructible bracer on his left forearm had been mapping out the passages they were taking in more intricate detail. Though æther particles were present in every molecule in every location on levels far below subatomic, ensuring everything followed the order of the multiverse as designed by God, the fact remained three-dimensional imaging techniques utilizing these had their own flaws.

Æther mapping, as Chris dubbed it (for he was not _that_ inclined to science, especially with concepts far beyond the comprehension available to his era of origin—he had been born on the onset of the 21st century, after all), required the collection of data sourced from the diverse, constantly-changing properties of æther particles in the environment. Conceptually it was similar to sonar and ultrasound, but more penetrating and vulnerable to the effects of many more variables, which meant increased effort for the onboard supercomputers embedded in and protected by this fascinating piece of machinery to discriminate, sieving out the desired information.

Cutting to the chase, the end result of Christopher's mapping of the entire tunnel network was, suffice to say, grainy and convoluted, even though it provided a rather accurate—an inference derived from the look on Chikara Hida's face—census of 12,356 living creatures underground. He knew he could've had the R-Scanner produce something with a cleaner resolution, but why bother? It did the trick, guiding him to the right place.

Nobody in the DSI knew Mt. Fuji sheltered thousands of rebels and recalcitrant refugees. It may have been something worth keeping a secret for those Fujieda sisters, but for Christopher it was an opportunity. If something, somehow, got in his way and he entered tomorrow with his pockets empty, then perhaps he could exchange the information and the map, though crude, for the Realmstone Fragment.

Rotating the 3D map displayed on the HUD blanketing his entire retina, Christopher noted something peculiar. The caverns they were approaching were humongous, about several storeys high. Hills dotted the landscape east of Mt. Fuji, and they were _hollow_. Artificial or natural formations would be a topic of great, speculative dispute.

Christopher would've started looking past the Scanner's blue sheen if it wasn't for Shuu breaking his concentration. He forgot he wasn't alone.

"I don't understand," the middle-aged man grumbled. He took off his glasses and wiped them with a clean handkerchief. Placing them back on, "Not at all."

The blond regarded him with a blank stare, moving forward as Shuu did. The elder Kido hypothesized his silence as attention.

A correct assumption.

"I told you to take care of Veemon, didn't I?" He stopped in his tracks, eyes trained on the widening path ahead. Flora was beginning to creep down the cavern walls and the pavement was disappearing. Even the tunnel was more natural than manmade, credit going to the multiple stalagmites and stalactites scattered across the cave. An obvious camouflage technique against government surveyors.

"And you said you will!"

Shuu gyrated to face him. His body was trembling. Clearly Shuu was afraid to confront the powerful, godlike figure that was Christopher Van Numen. Yet he mustered the courage to speak! Amazing how human curiosity and inquisitivity could move ordinary men beyond their comfort zones. "So why did you do that?"

A cold glare was Chris's reply. Nothing more.

"I don't know what Mr. Hida's thinking." Shuu refused to be intimidated. "Giving you the information so effing readily," he grunted. "So asinine! I'd much rather die than set you loose outside, chasing your **stupid** mission."

Chris scowled at the gross insult of his aspirations. At least Shuu knew he shouldn't ask about them. Still, the man shook his head. "You and Veemon looked like good friends. I can't believe it was all a lie—

This had to stop. "And I thought you'd empathize with me. Like that old man in your little group."

"E-e, e-_empathize_ with you?" Shuu reiterated, thunderstruck."You said you used him! Like a tool! No, he _was_ a tool to you. Veemon meant absolutely nothing to you!"

"It was necessary."

Shuu was taken aback. Before he could respond, the blond pressed on. "I know Veemon would've been a great friend. But he has his own place here. I don't.

Christopher took a step forward. Their faces were so close, Chris's goldenrod eyes looked like they were melding with Shuu's black ones at a glance. "You gave up your girlfriend to protect her and further your cause. I gave up what could've been a very strong friendship to accomplish my goals."

He began his rebuttal. "But the way you dismantled it…"

"Exactly as I intended," the blond cut him off. "The more he hates me, the better. I'd rather live with it than…"

A memory flashed in his mind, overtaking his thoughts and his words. "Than…"

The last time Christopher had been with his closest friends was set in the depths of space, within a carrier-class starship whose dimensions spanned for miles, traveling with a fleet of spacecraft towards a military installation orbiting the planet Klaus III, located several million light-years away from Earth's solar system.

Christopher, Ivan, and Sally, representing their party of five, were being awarded by the fleet's commanders for their participation in an immense battle that secured the second Realmstone Fragment _and_ a major milestone for the fleet's controlling organization when the entire group of starships was attacked.

One second they were in complete, utter safety. Christopher was being awarded with a medal of honor and courage, with his entire party being given "honorary membership in Quark". Sally was socializing with the many friends they had made during the battles. Ivan was flirting with a young human female, without much success.

Then it happened. Kinetic barriers were bombarded by black, organic-looking objects. Waves of green energy, wielded effortlessly by a human-like figure _in the vacuum of space_ demolished starships, bypassing their shields. Then they finally broke through the hulls.

Ebony-hued reptiles were born from wisps of darkness, materializing onboard and invading the corridors, ripping apart anyone they came across. Futuristic weapons, railguns and energy-based firearms, were useless against them. Abilities invoking the power of nature through symbols and mental strength were just as futile.

Worse, relentless suits of near-indestructible armor, brandishing 10-foot blades with ferocity and speed, sliced their way to the bridge of each starship, crushing the armory, and overwhelming other critical areas, no doubt commanded by an intelligent tactician.

"NO!"

Christopher Van Numen stood before Felicia Portal, who hovered high in the hangar of small and medium sized ships. Her hands on her hips, bombastic features outlined by her tight, beryl blouse and miniskirt, the despicable Realmdrifter had just kicked—literally—Chris's spaceplane into the swirling vortex of light and energy beside her. Into the Space Between Worlds.

A look of horror was etched on Chris's face. The Green Aurora had been disposed without difficulty, with Joshua, Millena, and Peppita—a resident of this universe—housed within. The environment of the Space Between Worlds, without the safe passage granted by the black tunnel, was harsh and destructive. Even if the spaceplane survived the destructive energy binding each realm together, the vastness of the multiverse ensured their permanent separation, even with the detection abilities possessed by the Realm Scanner.

They would never meet again.

It was tantamount to death. "Shit… no…"

Floating in the air, positioned as if sitting down on a chair with legs crossed, Felicia displayed her sneer, tipping up the tip of her wide-brimmed hat.

Sally, sympathetic to Chris's sentiments, stilled herself and remained steadfast, facing off with the Ereba and Gatespawn in the massive hangar, littered with dead bodies, scrap metal, and fire blanketing them. Her mace, the Quadrille, quivered in her hands, her azure eyes gazing from Chris to her monstrous adversaries and back.

Felicia vanished, leaving behind her telltale ripple in the air. She reappeared directly beside Christopher, brandishing a long sword of crystallized C-grade æther in hand, exploiting his vulnerability. Before it could land a hit, movement from Chris's right was detected, and Felicia disappeared into oblivion before a sword wrapped in blue-white light descended where her shoulder was.

"Haa, haa," breathed Chris's blue-haired savior. "Damn, she makes the Executioners look like child's play." He regarded Christopher, seized his shoulder, and shook him. "Chris, snap out of it!"

"F-Fayt," mumbled the blond. "J-Joshua and Millena," he struggled to speak. "And Peppita. They're… they're all…"

Fayt Leingod slammed the hilt of his sword on Chris's face. "I said snap out of it!" An ereba attempted to exploit Fayt's opening, when the human avoided its shadow strike and slammed his fist on its head, igniting an explosion of light-blue energy that destroyed the Gatespawn. "Get out of here while you still can."

Fayt turned towards a couple of approaching Hadraal, matching their katzbalgers with his longsword. Felicia Portal levitated, watching their verbal exchange condescendingly. Just _seeing _her do this would irk anyone. Angel wings comprised of energy itself formed on his back. "Don't worry about me. I'll make her pay for Sophia's—"

"I'll back him up, bro." Ivan Beleegar cut in, standing beside Fayt. He tightened the long, red scarf on his neck. It went well with the jet-black vest covering his torso. "Open the portal and escape with Sally. We'll follow."

Chris knew any direct encounter with the Realmdrifter, with any of his enemies, would lead to death without his participation. Still, there were too many Gatespawn. Plus, the shells of his former comrades were going to follow suit. "You better," he urged, hoping—praying to God they would make it. A blue sheen covered his eyes as the Realm Scanner went live. _Activate._

_Phasing into Felicia's hand was the head of Ivan Beleegar. "He's right here." Christopher recognized the rugged face, the many scars it borne, and the trademark chinstrap beard Ivan always considered an important asset on hooking up with women. _

"Hell yeah I am!" Ivan rejoined, taking out a small handgun identical to Christopher's and a one-handed sword whose blade was encased by a grey blob of absolute-zero superatoms. He gazed at Chris and grinned. "I still need to turn you into a real bro."

A "real bro" by Ivan's standards was someone who spent a night with him having sex with at least two women, sharing the girls and comparing their carnalexperience. For him, nothing bonded men more than a night of pleasure and competition. "No offense, Sally," he added, knowing the priestess's disapproval of this unfaithful act.

_Æther accrued around Felicia's hand, completely disintegrating the sole memento they had of Ivan. "Oops, so much for burying the body." Christopher Van Numen had never forgotten the contorted sketch of utter terror and agony present on the space pirate's countenance, seeing it in his dreams every night._

Snap!

Christopher blinked, returning to the present. "H-huh?"

Shuu had snapped his fingers. Chris obviously spaced out. His desire for understanding was so strong the adult did not bother to escape from his captor."Than what?" Shuu's voice trailed, awaiting his swift reply.

"Eh?"

"You'd rather live with Veemon hating you than…?"

"Than what would've happened eventually," muttered the blond, completing the sentence.

"What **WOULD** have happened eventually?"

This question took it a step too far. "Let's go." Christopher brushed past him, snubbing Shuu.

Shuu clamored. "W-wait a min—

"Ask again and I **will** kill you," the blond snarled. He took Shuu by the sleeve and pulled him forward. "Now lead."

.

.

The cavernous atrium hollowing the hill out led to a narrower tunnel of approximately thirty feet, concealed by shrubs, bushes, and trees. The lack of cobwebs and what looked like a rabbits' pathway indicated this was one of the more common entrances for the Digidestined.

Christopher inhaled, taking in the fresh air with much relish. Shuu had apparently done the same, taking his sweet time. For one second, the blond pitied the black-haired male. Since when did Shuu take a walk outside the base?

He shook his head. _Not that I care._ A bright light illuminating the lower left corner of his eye seized Chris's and Shuu's attention. It was momentary, but the radiance lasted long enough for Chris to pinpoint its location at a nearby hill about a kilometer away. A shorter one, too.

Taking flight into the air was a winged, feline animal the size of a large horse. Thanks to the clouds blocking the full moon, it was a bit hard to make out its characteristics in extensive detail, even with his 20/20 vision. Even the two passengers it ferried were hard to distinguish fully, though he could tell the figure sitting on its back was a human lady, working from hints supplied by the flowing hair caressed by the wind.

The other figure was more difficult to discern, but from the onset he knew it was Veemon. Not only did it resemble him, but also there was no other creature among the many he had met during his travels who had skin of the brightest blue.

Still, Chris was so sure the winged creature's white rear resembled that of Hikari's partner—Tailmon was it? It definitely had the striped tail. The black claws, impregnated by clothing of pear green and crimson stripes, came from Tailmon as well. The funniest thing was, the front body looked **nothing** like the Digimon of Light.

She was a sphinx. A sphinx. _How strange_, thought Chris, already looking at Tailmon's "form" as weird and anomalous. Tailmon had become another animal coated not by rock, but by metal. Ornate metal, to be more precise. The bracers and pauldrons provided some protection, but the gold and jewels added some flair to the equipment. Even Tailmon's breastplate was emblazoned with an image resembling the sun. A triband suppressor—presumably fake—was worn on the sleeve of her armor.

_So that's evolution… wow._

"That's Nefertimon," apprised Shuu. "It's Tailmon, evolving with the Armor of Light." The only useful trivia he got from it was the new name.

"Uh huh." It didn't make sense to Chris. Besides, he was looking at Veemon. Though they were too far for him to see the dragon's muzzle clearly, judging by the downward angle he carried himself and his seat on the rear end of the cat-turned-sphinx, the Digimon of Miracles was still seriously depressed over the separation.

For some reason, the blond could feel Veemon's hand giving him a warm, friendly pat on the back. He heard him snort in amusement. _"I wonder,"_ he was saying, _"if we _were_ rushing, you could've just let me ride on you and run all the way up there from the very beginning. I bet we'd be there in fifteen minutes,"_ he estimated, grinning. _"Even less."_

"_What,"_ Chris remembered his own words, _"you think I can do that?"_

"_I know you well enough."_ He imagined the dragon nodding, standing right by his side, looking up. _"But I didn't say anything,"_ he chuckled and smirked. _"Thought you enjoyed my company."_

The blond's head was bowed. _Never thought I'd miss it._

"You can still reconsider, you know," Shuu hinted. To think his words were tickling Chris's conscience.

"_Maybe it's already too late,"_ his guilt attacked, hitting him where it hurt. _"Reconsider your decision."_

"It's none of your—

"Don't give me that crap," countered the adult, speaking already with the wisdom of age. "I can tell from—

Sally's ghost reverberated in his ears, drowning out the sound of Shuu's matured voice. _"You're just scared."_

"—ling guilty about this—

"_BUT I'M YOUR FRIEND!"_ Christopher recalled the dragon's astonishment. He clenched his fists, like he tried to grasp the phantom warmth of the Chosen's hand. To feel it once more. To recognize the presence of a loyal comrade and ally.

"—ave no idea what you went through or what your mission is—

"_We're friends. And friends, help each other."_

"—ll-grown adult, yet you aren't mature enough—

"_YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND!"_

Chris's fists tightened significantly.

"—can't handle it, you're better off following them and—

"SHUT UP!" Christopher snapped, palpitating. "SHUT UP! **SHUT, THE HELL, UP!**"

With Shuu Kido stunned, Chris took this chance to leap onto the nearest tree, balancing on a thick branch. "What's done is done," he stated with cold finality. "I… I have no regrets."

Goldenrod eyes were fixed on black. "I HAVE NO REGRETS!" he rang angrily, summoning his confidence and buoyancy in full desperation.

Shuu had only one last thing to say. "Remember, you're no longer welcome here."

"I know." Azure light shot from his left hand, coalescing into a cerulean trench coat that dangled in his hands. He wore it, rolling up the left sleeve, and turned around. Chris descended the mountain, leaping from tree to tree towards the highway in sight. "And I don't care."

* * *

"How you holding up, Nefertimon?" Hikari ran her hand across the sphinx's bare neck, caressing it lovingly. "It's been ten years since we used this form."

Her angel wings flapped in the air, maintaining their lift as their altitude soared. "Like riding a bicycle." Hikari chuckled. _She knows human euphemisms well._

"Is there a difference though?" She glanced at the striped tail, where the Holy Ring—enlarged to remain proportionate to the Digimon of Light's size—was secured.

"Stronger," admitted the Armor-level. "I feel like I can go faster."

"Think you can match Perfect digimon in that form?"

Spoken with full confidence, "Yes." The junior Yagami expected the affirmation, and was happy to hear it. Tailmon's Holy Ring was the key to the tiny Adult's immense power, a fact she learned in her first trip to the Digital World on her fifth grade. Many times, during the Twelve's battles against the Digimon Kaiser and the villainous figures pulling his strings, Hikari imagined how different everything would've been her digital half did not lose the ring in the first place.

Would her armor evolution be as strong as it was now? Would she have been the one to claim the Digimental of Miracles when they fought Kimeramon in the Kaiser's base? Would the six of them—Daisuke, Ken, Takeru, Iori, Miyako, and herself—have been able to access DNA Evolution?

Tailmon never evolved again since the Digital Revelation on December 2002, since their battle with BelialVamdemon. Even during all the issues concerning the racism and discrimination of digimon were breaking out. Tailmon had always proven the need for evolution unnecessary, being an Adult level by default.

Looking back on those events, reflecting on what her digimon partner had gone through, Hikari Yagami had reluctantly admitted to herself, if it wasn't for Vamdemon's constant abuse of the white cat, she wouldn't have been able to protect Hikari from danger in the political chaos exploding after the Fourth of July massacre in the United States.

Imagine that. The moment Hikari realized this in her own bed, a few weeks before her 18th birthday—before Takeru's deathday—she had taken the initiative to pray for Vamdemon's soul, wherever it went to after his deletion by Imperialdramon's cannon. Tailmon would never forgive the megalomaniacal bastard for all the torment, abhorrence, and abuse she underwent under his rule, but Hikari, being the innocent, naïve girl she was from childhood to present, did.

Maturity could do that to people, she supposed.

Though she was excited to use Tailmon's full powers against the Digital Suppression Initiative, when Hikari's coquelicot eyes glanced at Nefertimon's Holy Ring, they did not ignore the dismal figure sitting on Nefertimon's rear-end, legs and feet dangling in the air.

Veemon was quiet ever since they took a tunnel leading to the large, hollow training areas underneath many of the hills on Mt. Fuji's eastern side, which inevitably brought them to narrow exits concealed by undergrowth and wilderness. The experience of being around a _noiseless_ Veemon unsettled her.

Hikari had known him and his partner Daisuke long enough to know how similar they were, despite their own divergences. Daisuke and Veemon were practically brothers. Both were rambunctious. Both were mischievous and playful (considering the innumerable amount of times Veemon licked Daisuke's face just to tease and induce laughter at his expense). Both _definitely_ enjoyed talking about the most random things. They even wrestled each other over food, over games, and over trivial things, aside from the heartwarming reason that was "just because".

Yet now, here was Veemon, seemingly back from the dead. Whatever buoyancy and playfulness he displayed prior to the separation were dampened—extinguished—by the clouds of melancholy fogging his cheerful eyes. He would normally hum in the face of silence, or do some form of affection only he was apt to do, but…

At this very moment, only a sad sigh escaped his snout, the blankness of his stare ostensible. His eyes and ears took in everything they saw and heard, and simultaneously discarded their capture. It was a disconnection from the world.

A disconnection Hikari herself had exhibited when news of Taichi's death (or so the DSI alleged in public channels) reached her sorry ears. Like him, she did not listen to everyone around her, did not pay attention to _anything_ around her, wallowing in her own pit of despair.

Reality could be so cruel, exchanging Hikari's happiness and newfound hope for the blue dragon's grief and loneliness.

The pathetic sight moved the Child of Light to carefully—she didn't want to fall! The ground was about sixty, seventy, feet down and the vertigo she'd get from the drop and the immediate rescue would terrify her—inched towards the forlorn Digimon of Miracles and embrace him.

He did not respond. No verbal grunts. No physical clues. Nothing.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE! A distant sound of engine brakes smashing into asphalt and a booming crash of a car seized their attention. They turned their heads, both Hikari and Veemon, to the highway a couple of kilometers on Nefertimon's right.

An accident had occurred, but fortunately, no one died from it. As they already passed the cloud cover blocking the moonlight, they could see what caused the mishap: a human-like figure running at a constant speed of no less than a hundred and twenty miles per hour. From this distance, its blond hair—blown by nature's resistance to this unnatural velocity—was unmistakable, as was the blue coat it wore. _Christopher._

Not only did he catch up to them _so easily_, but he was also traveling faster. Way faster. He already passed the distance Nefertimon gained from her headstart and was cruising along the highway towards the shining lights of the Tokyo Metropolis in the distance.

Seeing the blond demon run to the city on his own filled Hikari with joy. It was repetitive of her to think about it so often, but that Veemon was no longer at risk from the third scene in her dream brought peace to her troubled mind. The Chosen's safety equated to Daisuke's safety. Hikari sought nothing more but a reunion with her best friend, who struggled to keep her afloat when the Child of Hope's demise was still fresh in her memories.

It was harsh, even heartless, to treat Veemon's own situation in that perspective, as doing so had put the Chosen Child and Digimon of Light on the same level as the despicable Christopher, using the blue dragon and his own feelings to further their own agenda. In the end, it was what mattered the most.

"What was it?" queried Nefertimon, whose eyes were glued to the front. It was almost funny how the white sphinx could see through the steel eyelids of her mask.

Hikari did not answer just yet, too busy on observing the Digimon of Miracles, who also saw his former friend. She squeezed Nefertimon's soft, warm body. A subtle gesture for her to wait. She held back for seven seconds, before proceeding to ask Veemon, "Are you alright?"

The dragon's red eyes rolled in her direction and held their gaze for a fleeting glance before returning to the highway beside them.

She drove forward. "You still thinking about—

"It's hard not to." Veemon's tone was filled with noticeable anguish. "Christopher's the first human friend I've had in three years. Since…"

His muzzle bowed lower. "Since… Daisuke, left me…"

Hikari's digital half couldn't help but interject and say her piece. "Weren't the others with you?"

"Others?" he reiterated, a bit puzzled.

"Ken," the Child of Light supplied. "Iori. Koushirou. Joe. They all moved to the Digital World a year after…" Either one of two things were intended to slide out her lips. Takeru's death. Or Daisuke's desertion—she wasn't even sure if _that_ was the right way to put it.

Instead, she settled with the perfect conclusion, one that went well with the nature of their conversation. "…you know."

He shrugged, shaking his head and sighing. "They were too busy. Never got time for me…"

Hikari interpreted his trailing voice as possessing a reluctance to carry on. There was something else bothering him, something about the four Chosen Children who, thanks to the DSI, were forced to abscond to the Digital World and take refuge there, even if it meant losing their own connection to the Real World, to their families, allies, and friends.

She knew it wasn't her business to pry. Curiosity was powerful, but her own willpower was stronger. If it wasn't, Hikari's emotions would've broken her after Daisuke vanished on the onset of the war. Veemon would reveal this in his own time. The best thing they could do for him now was to let him have some more time alone.

The Armor-level digimon ferrying them across forests, rural towns, and wilderness on air, however, called him out, succumbing to the temptations of inquisitivity. "There's something else, isn't there, Veemon?"

A wall of glacial stillness responded to her prodding. The dragon fidgeted nervously in his seat, hesitant to clench Nefertimon's skin and hurt her while being scrutinized by her human half's gaze.

"Isn't there?" she asked again.

"Nefertimon," Hikari scolded. "Don't pressure him. He'll talk when he's ready."

"Thanks," murmured the blue dragon, probably relieved from being spared the duty of answering the sphinx's inquiry.

She retorted, "No problem," squeezing his warm, leathery body one more time before returning to Nefertimon's front, to her faithful and loyal partner.

* * *

A couple of steel slates split apart, permitting the Modifier Aldo Kikuchi to disembark from the carriage it housed within. The black-skinned American-Japanese hybrid rubbed the crust off his baggy eyes, lips puckered and quivering as a yawn was suppressed.

He did not pay attention to the otherworldly nature of the car he rode in. Its whitewashed frame. The grass-green floor. The steel poles dotting the car every few paces. He did not care at all that this carriage—the entire train itself—was made entirely out of digital particles, converted by an onboard Zone Emulator, modified by technology that undoubtedly improved the train's resilience and speed.

The only thing Aldo gave a damn about was his wristwatch. The numbers displayed on its screen were an hour before midnight. The sight of it made him grumble, reminding him of the growls his stomach made and the pains assailing it.

The scout's belly throbbed. "Ooooooohh.," he mumbled, clutching his belly. Aldo rubbed the dark-blue clothing separating the skin from his palm. He had been battling hunger since that morning, with nothing but small meals that could barely count as such!

Akihiro Kurata's method of "debriefing" was cruel and highly inconsiderate. "Effing nerds," he grumbled. That man never gave him a decent meal for stealing the day away! His belly would be satisfied and happy by now, filled with the glorious food of the Japanese straight from the best diners close to the M&A Wing. In fact, he would be somewhere in Tokyo drinking, or hanging out at a strip club, raining those lascivious dancing women with wads of ¥1000 bills.

But no.

Instead, Aldo was meters below the surface, shuffling across the platform, heading for the wide corridor ahead. It would bring him straight to the Ninth Gate and consequently, to an intersection of hallways, one of which would _definitely_ lead to the barracks reserved for Modifiers and veterans.

"Tut, tut," chided a derisive voice.

_Speak of the freakin' devil._

Kikuchi rotated towards the speaker, finding Akihiro Kurata himself. He knew it was the head scientist the moment he heard those two arrogant syllables. How could anyone make the mistake? Kurata spoke with a high pitch and always—always!—employed the company of an irritating tone.

Akihiro's black eyes beheld Aldo condescendingly, maintained by the false sense of security the circular lens of the scientist's spectacles provided. The smirk on Kurata's face and the _constant_ waving of his index finger were downright annoying. If it wasn't for the exhaustion laying claim to his countenance **and** body, Aldo would've slammed his boot into his testicles.

"The debriefing was necessary for my team's data processing," he verbalized, appealing to the Modifier's reason.

"Debriefing?" scoffed Aldo. "HA!" The urge to punch Kurata in the nose became harder to resist. "Some debriefing! More like an interrogation." He accentuated, "**Lab arrest**!"

R&D personnel normally possessed a sense for professional dignity and consideration for others. It was the tight-knit bond they possessed as a group and the respect they held for everyone they worked with in the organization that supplied this, whether they actually _had_ collaborated together at some point or not.

Mitsuo Yamaki, for instance, may be the second-in-command, but the very fact the Chairman never showed his face in annual shareholder meetings, press releases, or internal meetings with administrative employees, researchers, and military soldiers alike made it very, **very** easy for one to mistake him for the president, commander-in-chief, and esteemed leader of the Digital Suppression Initiative.

The Chairman always spoke and operated through Mitsuo Yamaki, and the man exhibited a loyalty and passion like no other. Flanked by the Twin Towers—two carefully selected bodyguards who were among the most talented soldiers of the Military division, handpicked by the Chairman himself—the Vice-Chair always consigned in every word and act a demeanor of professionalism and seriousness. It was often surprising he treated everyone under him like equals. Now that he thought about it, the Modifier could not recall an incident he witnessed in person or heard about via random chatter that damaged Yamaki's unsullied reputation with fits of anger, derogatory remarks, or offensive actions.

Even though Yamaki himself managed **all** of R&D's operations along with a multitude of responsibilities involving M&A, it was funny—though in an absolutely pitiful manner—how his best traits didn't flow downstream. Otherwise, Kurata wouldn't be laughing so hard at Aldo's comments. Neither would the Modifier be balling his hands into fists and clenching them so tightly they shuddered violently.

The good doctor never saw this and, letting the hilarity fade into soft chuckling after a minute, leaned on one of the many concrete pillars scattered across the entire platform and wiped the water gathering in his eyes the moment he was comfortable.

"You've got quite the imagination." The sarcasm was discernable. Easily discernable. Kurata did not play subtly. "Please, Kikuchi, whatever you call it, it'll help us enhance your digivices and dark matter—I mean, æther," emerged the self-correction. He was still acclimating to its usage, "weapons in a couple of weeks."

"You **better**," Aldo snarled, stretching his neck 'til something cracked, providing much relief for the russet Modifier. "After all those tests you put me through?"

Colluding with his rumbling stomach, those damn tests aggravated his crabby mood. Dr. Kurata, on Yamaki's behalf, had him perform Digital Modification multiples times, pushing it and his own stamina to uncharted limits.

At the very least, Yamaki would have the respect and consideration to bring him some food from the cafeteria.

Another reason why Aldo despised nerds overtaken with the obsessive compulsion of following through their experiments to the very end without a single break.

"But, I **have **to admit," Aldo pulled back the right sleeve of his uniform, revealing the thin digivice attached to the catchlock device worn on the wrist. "Playing with this thing was **sooooo** awesome."

One of the more memorable experiments involved the exploration of _Biomorph_, a new type of digital modification that _literally_ imbued the destructive power of a digimon on the Modifier. Blue lines of energy carrying this power would coalesce around the user, forming a resilient armor embedded with strength and revitalizing energy. Ready for combat.

It was the human equivalent of Armor Evolution. Of course, the fact Colonel Reeves managed to draw the power of Paildramon—an Ultimate-class digimon, by DSI standards—out of his digivice _instead_ of Fladramon or Lighdramon meant every Modifier could access the latent abilities of a digimon's underlying evolution line.

This in itself trumped the original ability possessed by the SCAI's possessed by the Twelve.

Aldo Kikuchi, of course, was thrilled by the prospect of wielding Imperialdramon's glory in Paladin mode. Childishly thrilled.

"Still," he resumed his complaints. "You **should've** scheduled this tomorrow or something. God, being cooped up in that godforsaken room for one day's just too"—his stomach growled again.—"Effing…!" He yawned. "Damn, I've _never _been this sleepy _and_ hungry..."

_If I recall right, the nearest cafeteria's_ _close to the Eigth Gate_. It was a fifteen minute walk from the Ninth Gate's stop.

As if privy to his thoughts, "There's a 24-hour McDonald's in the Eighth Gate's cafeteria." Kurata brought out a rather fat wallet from his black slacks and handed a ¥10,000 bill to the Modifier. "Grab a value meal and coffee. It's on me."

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Aldo snatched the money and pocketed it, thinking it atonement for the theft of his time. He fixed his dark blue uniform, pulling up his pants. Then he turned the opposite direction and sauntered across the platform, heading for the other end. Aldo, having been employed by the DSI's military division for a few years, was keen on the layout of its corridors.

It felt relaxing, actually, to walk alone. Normally, the train platform would be bustling with activity. Administrative workers and low-level managers, along with researchers and technicians, were the most frequent users of the train line connecting the Odaiba and Shinjuku wings of the headquarters. Oftentimes, mundane conversations struck with a fellow DSI coworker at random revolved around technical subjects involving the nature of digital particles or the particulars of certain equipment, as well as more quotidian choices, such as gossip.

Though the Digital Suppression Initiative was a military organization in its own right, it was still a commercial authority with overreaching arms and a world-renowned reputation. The DSI Chairman, whoever he was, didn't wish discomfort on his non-military subordinates by forcing them out of Shinjuku to take a long commute to Odaiba and vice-versa.

_Assuming_ what Yamaki said during the commencement of its construction reflected the Chairman's words.

Aldo basked in the serenity the thunderous silence of the platform emitted, taking in the rather artistic way the surrounding walls were painted. Even the escalators, situated in the center of the platform on either end, directing its passengers to the corridors leading to the First to Fourth Gates, weren't spared.

Tap.

Their sides were colorfully decorated with the image of men and their families living happy lives, with SCAIs on the ground around their feet, staring up with a kind of happiness only one could associate with a domesticated mind. With an animal. A pet.

Tap. Tap. The sound of leather shoes slapping the solid floor.

Aldo had taken only a few steps when he noticed something wrong. His ears registered footsteps coming from behind, dogging him. Knowing it was so late very few people were using the train, not to mention the area of the platform he was just at was devoid of life, there was only one reasonable explanation.

Tap.

Kikuchi wheeled around. As expected, Dr. Kurata was sauntering right behind him. The Modifier raised his eyebrows, directing his green eyes at the R&D PhD holder. He raised his arms in frustration. "Yo!"

Kurata replied with nothing but a puzzled glance, like there was nothing wrong with _stalking_ the scout.

"You following me?" he interrogated. "Isn't our debriefing over already? Or are you tagging along for **more **observation?"

The moment he said those words, Kurata started chortling. Again. Did he not sense the sarcasm in the last one? Letting out a snarl, Aldo Kikuchi stepped towards the scientist, closing the gap. He prepared his fist for a swift uppercut to the chin. That man was _definitely _getting on his nerves.

"I'm already **done** with you, Kikuchi."

He stopped.

"Well, why—

Kurata pointed to the escalator right behind Aldo. "I'm heading to my office," he retorted, adding a grunt in the next moment. "Hmph. Unlike you, I still got work to do." Some blather followed, "Plus, there seems to be something I'm forgetting…"

Aldo heard neither the complaint nor the rambling. All his ears recognized was Kurata saying he had an office. "Your office?" This was interesting. R&D personnel never had offices in the M&A Wing, with the exception of Mitsuo Yamaki, but only because he was the second-in-command. "You have an office?"

Kurata rolled his eyes. "Yes, Kikuchi," he said dully, obviously thinking the topic was stupid, even for Aldo. "I have an office. Every lead researcher—

"In M&A," pressed the scout, interrupting him. "You have an office. In M&A."

A nod. "It's on the 83rd floor." The flat tone gave away his disinterest along with his intent on walking away that very second.

In fact, Akihiro Kurata had gone on and did it, passing Aldo, veering for the escalator. The two sensors five feet before the steps detected the Head Scientist's approach and promptly activated the track. (If it wasn't for Aldo pondering on Kurata's answer, he would've marveled at how the underground train connecting R&D to M&A was just like one of the many subway stations plying the rest of Tokyo.)

"Eighty-third?" repeated Aldo, muttering to himself. _That's where the high-level executives reside. _Naturally, the Chairman had the eighty-fourth level all to himself.

He eyed the scientist, who planted his leather shoes on the steps. "Wait a f*cking minute!" the scout chased after him. "Why the hell does a fool like **YOU** get an office way up—

"AHA! There you are!"

Waiting for Aldo and Kurata atop the escalators was the strangest-looking man he had ever seen within the confines of the DSI headquarters. The scout's green eyes gawked at the stranger's finely-shaped abdomen, surprised even more to realize someone in this disciplined building was half-naked underneath his azure trench coat.

The next thing Aldo stared at were the goggles strapped to his hairline. Yellow lens. Red frame. It looked like it was made for industrial-type work. Further entrenching the rather unprofessional aura he exuded were the denim pants and heavy-looking boots. He approached the head scientist. "Akihiro Kurata."

Aldo easily mistook this man for a hooligan who somehow bypassed all security measures and snuck into the lowest levels of the Military & Administration Wing to sully the pristine corridors. He would've taken out his sidearm and aimed it at this intruder if it wasn't for Kurata approaching him with a sly grin and, in a gesture of welcome, shook his hand. "Simoun Prime," the scout heard him acknowledge.

They chorused, "Good to meet you."

_What the eff._

Simoun stuck his left hand into the pockets of his denim jeans (very deep pockets, it seemed) and dug out a crumpled piece of paper he stuffed in it. "The Chairman's memo told me to meet you by the First Gate's elevator an hour ago."

To the scout, it was positively astounding. Only men of considerable talent and success would warrant the Chairman's attention. A brief screening of Simoun's clothing was all Aldo needed to categorize him as a "punk". Neither did he look capable of taking on administrative and scientific roles in the DSI nor could Kikuchi picture him doing something decent.

And if he was truly a man of talent and success?

Aldo would fall back on the ancient adage: first impressions last.

To the head scientist, instead of dumbfounded disgust, a flashbulb somewhere within his head brightened. "Ah," muttered Kurata, ignorant of Simoun's boorish attire. "So _that's_ what I forgot."

"You forgot?" reiterated Simoun. He was stunned. Regaining his composure, he lifted up the scrap of paper and gave it a light slap. "Didn't the Chairman fax you this notice or something?"

It was a chance to pull down Kurata's reputation further than it already was (Aldo was assuming Akihiro's coworkers weren't glowing when it came to peer reviews). "Apparently," he began, inserting himself into the conversation. Insolence impregnated his sentence. "the _good doctor_ here ignores **everything** when he develops an obsession for experiments."

Aldo wanted Kurata to crash and burn in his own game of sarcasm.

"Psh!" harrumphed the Head Scientist, pouting. "Someone in my position isn't as irresponsible as you described."

"Tell that to my stomach, you effing nerd," Aldo retaliated. "Locking me in your lab for the entire day with little to eat," he grumbled at a volume loud enough for Simoun to faintly hear.

Simoun stared at Kurata, who pushed his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You seriously did that?"

Aldo's lips curled into a mischievous smirk. _Gotcha._

"Sacrifices must be made for the pursuit of knowledge and improvement," asserted Kurata, defending himself with a sentence that sounded more like a quote than a real answer.

"Fool! Sacrifices aren't made on _someone else's expense_!" rudely rebutted the Modifier.

Simoun, letting Aldo's words pass through his ears, shook his head. Speculating the scientist's autonomy and tinge of recklessness, "Whoa, guarding you's gonna be hell."

"Actually," Kurata prepared his correction, "it's going to be prrrreeet-ty fun."

"What do you mean?"

Aldo was pissed off. "I'm talking to you, fool!"

Dr. Kurata slung his hand over Simoun's shoulder and escorted him towards the descending steps. "We'll talk some more in the Chairman's laboratory…"

"Damn nerd!" he followed. "I'm—Wait a minute." He gaped at the R&D employee, then the hooligan beside him. "The Chairman's giving you a bodyguard?"

This time Kurata heard him. Or rather, the scientist _acknowledged_ his voice, much to Aldo's intensified annoyance. "Exactly what you just said."

"Why?"

Akihiro Kurata shrugged. "Who knows? Nobody's ever met the Chairman in person sans Yamaki. Everyone else connected to him just get memos."

"But aren't we going to his private lab?" posed Simoun. "I **DO** know he's the only one with access to it. Not even the Vice-Chair's allowed to—

Kurata's new bodyguard was silenced by the sight of a white card held between his index and middle fingers. Possessing a microchip within, the card was emblazoned with the logo of the DSI. The scientist's name was embossed on it, clearly visible, even to Aldo, who stood a few feet away.

"Your worries are pointless," Kurata grinned. "I have full access."

"Anything related to the Chairman's top secret," Aldo debated. "I **really** doubt that little thing will get you past all the security."

"I'll say it again," he asserted, his assault carrying a tone of finality. "**FULL** access," Kurata emphasized, pocketing the passcard in his lab coat. "Immense comprehension of and closeness to the Chairman's vision for the DSI provides many, _many_ benefits."

Aldo couldn't believe what the man just said. "You're shitting me! You're ranks below Yamaki!"

"Too engrossed with his _Digital Modification_ project," Akihiro listed. "Vision of DSI deviates sllllllightly from the Chairman's; lacks managerial experience despite achievements; and _refuses_ to personally lead our soldiers in the Digital World."

It left the scout stupefied. _Whoa._ Mitsuo Yamaki had a contender for the Vice-Chairman position, and he probably didn't know it!

"Need more?" offered Kurata.

"I've heard enough."

"Great!"

Before Aldo Kikuchi could leave Akihiro Kurata and Simoun Prime alone to wait for the train's return and head for the 24-hour McDonald's, "Don't forget, Kikuchi!"

_Huh?_ He stopped and glanced back at the scientist. "What?" Aldo heard the train's slow approach, the sound of its wheels plying the steel tracks echoing in the empty platform.

"Keep your digivice safe! There's no shortcut to recharging your battery."

Aldo rolled his eyes. He didn't need this nerd coddling him like a mother! "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "Conventional charging doesn't work, but it recovers power over time, I know." He groaned. "Sheesh."

"Good job," Kurata praised his memory.

The compliment felt degrading. Condescension was Kurata's style of attack, and this deceptive praise was no different. Aldo's heart sought nothing more but his fist pounding the Head Scientist's eye and breaking those circular frames while he's at it.

His body however, protested. Aldo's stomach had become so impatient it denied the scout's ability to follow through on this sudden urge and snarled, hitting him with pain worse than getting a headbutt in the solar plexus from Daisuke's Veemon.

Aldo kept himself calm and maintained his speed towards the corridors. The last sounds of life his ears seized in the train platform were the reverberating footsteps made by Simoun and Kurata's embarkment.

As the train's doors closed in with a subtle _swhick, _the Head Scientist shouted with glee, "IT'S SHOWTIME! Haha!"

The Modifier shook his head and groaned.

_And Tina asks me why I hate nerds._

* * *

"ACHOO!"

Despite the heavy rain assailing the roofed porch and the nearby streets, Janyu Li's sneeze overcame the continuous noise of the torrent raining down from above. Tailmon's ears twitched at the sudden sound, her blue eyes gazing straight at the corpulent man before them. The cloud of spittle that would've struck the three Chosen went straight into the sleeves of his gray blazer, which was hastily worn on top of a cobalt-dyed t-shirt.

Obviously Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon herself weren't expected to visit the Li family. Especially not when it was a few minutes past midnight. The Digimon of Light conjectured Kiriha Ichijouji took his sweet time notifying the head of the Li household of their then-impending arrival.

Besides, even if they _did _show up unannounced, the group of three wasn't likely to encounter rejections from people connected to the Chosen Children, particularly the Twelve. Each one of them was famous, having made appearances in television and in magazines such as _Time_ early in the past decade.

Still, that was simply Hikari's theory, formulated as they were traveling several hundred feet in the air above Tokyo, where the naked eye would have trouble spotting them. Tailmon, as Nefertimon, had been instructed to raise her altitude as they closed in on the metropolis's skyline.

Sitting on her back, with one hand taking a secure hold on the metal breastplate, the Child of Light had her cellphone flipped open, its screen displaying a satellite map and their location, determined by GPS.

It was funny, or pathetic rather, how neither the Japanese government nor the Digital Suppression Initiative figured out the connection between Hikari Yagami and Kari Kamiya, the name given to NTT DoCoMo for her mobile plan. How Taichi managed to setup phone plans for all high-level Digidestined personnel including the few Chosen Children in the political group _when they were being hunted down worldwide _was a logistical mystery to everyone but the man himself. (Koushirou might be more informed, though. Being the computer geek had its advantages…)

"A few more minutes to Tetsugakudo Park," Nefertimon heard her human half mumble.

"Should I descend?" inquired the Armor-level. The clouds have thickened, threatening to pour rain over the group. They couldn't afford getting sick, not tonight!

In an instant, Hikari squeezed the exposed fur she could see from her seat. The go-ahead signal.

Not one to dive in without warning, "How's Veemon doing?" Hikari may have forgotten about the extra passenger sitting on Nefertimon's rear end. Luckily for the Digimon of Miracles, sitting on her _body_ ensured constant awareness of his presence.

A few seconds later, the white sphinx felt the blue dragon shifting towards her torso, latching onto her armor, steering clear of the stubs from which her wings protruded.

Still, Veemon's safety wasn't the only thing clouding her head. He was an important friend of hers, well above the others aside from Patamon (duh) and Agumon (moreso!), and keeping track of his emotional and psychological state was just as important.

Without uttering a word, Hikari caressed one of Nefertimon's humerus, deliberately but gently.

It was another signal.

"No changes," the gesture communicated.

Nefertimon banked left, diving towards Nakano at a frightening rate. It was expected for her passengers to tighten their grips, however…

"WHOOOOAAAAAAA!" Veemon, presumably taking cues from Hikari's relaxed state, underestimated the intensity of their descent. He had been gripping the sphinx's armor so tightly, beads of sweat formed a greasy film around his fingers. The lubricated digits were useless and, the inevitable scenario, his hands literally slipped.

The dragon's survival instincts kicked in. The rapid descent, Nefertimon's prolonged acceleration, and the constant sensation of falling, all **combined** with his brain's recognition of his body no longer in contact with the diving Armor-level's body had Veemon immediately seek out the closest thing he could get his hands on.

His limbs shot out towards the direction of his lost grip. Fortunately for the entire group (and especially for him), Veemon found something to hold onto and seized it as tight as he could, to the extent he dug his tiny, white claws into it.

_Unfortunately_ for the entire group, the Digimon of Miracles jabbed Nefertimon's exposed fur and, it went without saying, her unprotected skin. Pain took over the sphinx mid-descent. "AAAHH!" she curtly shrieked, jerking sideways, nearly bucking Veemon **and** Hikari off her back.

"NEFERTIMON!" exclaimed the younger Yagami, her dainty hands clutching both the armor and her humerus. "What happened?"

The Digimon of Light eased the angle of her fall. "Look behind you," propounded her voice. "Then slap Veemon for me," she dryly added. "_Please_," Nefertimon emphasized, feeling warm liquid trickling down her sides.

"Why? He hasn't"—Hikari stopped, probably catching sight of the shallow wounds that almost cost her and the culprit their lives. "VEEMON!"

Though it was only his name she spoke, it was fully intended as an admonishment. A scolding.

The one responsible for this brief and definitely unwarranted stunt recognized the reproach from her acerbic tone. "Sooorrryyyy!" the apologetic whine was verbalized. Nefertimon was visualizing an uneasy Veemon blessing her human half with a gauche stare, scratching the back of his head. "At least we're still alive, right?" he tried to downplay. "You know what, maybe you should consider doing stunts—

Hikari Yagami slapped the blue dragon so hard it shut him up for the rest of the landing. It was a perfectly reasonable and mature decision: Nefertimon, for her part, also swore she would never have the Digimon of Miracles ride on her back for _anything_ other than serious business, i.e. matters of life and death.

Veemon leaped off the moment they touched down on the street. "YEEEY!" he exclaimed, kissing the gritty asphalt without regard for the shining light behind him. His relief and comical manner of expressing it was understandable: falling from that height wouldn't bestow any chances for survival for him so long as he was Child-level. "Back on the ground at last!"

The light of devolution encasing Tailmon dispersed like a bursting firework, releasing the white cat from its bosom. As she emerged from the bright light, Tailmon found herself analyzing the feeling of devolution.

Evolution felt like the receipt of limitless energy, adding euphoria and much confidence as the body changed form. The changes were all instantaneous, and anyone undergoing evolution wouldn't feel a thing. In human context, it was similar to fridge brilliance. One moment one was stupid and stumped over something, and the next one acquired an insightful comprehension, wondering how it wasn't perceived earlier when it was "so simple".

Devolution wasn't the exact opposite. Hikari loved analogizing it to the release of exhaustion, to the stripping of the burdens carried by the heart and body. Much of the pain borne by the higher form would vanish along with the light, alleviating the problem slightly. The keyword, though, was _slightly_. In battle, a digimon that had its arm sliced off would, upon devolution, still have its limb attached _but_ be in terrible agony from the attack, enormously enfeebled.

In Tailmon's case, her sides were still aching from Veemon's claws. The sight of the blue dragon prostrating himself to the very earth out of reprieve annoyed her. Didn't he realize Tailmon's devolution was bright enough to attract the attention of _anyone_ who saw it? Besides that, the scene of a digimon kissing asphalt and a digimon-human pair beside it was more than likely to rouse suspicion in the neighborhood.

Walking towards him, Tailmon was all set to bash his thick head in physically _and _verbally for these careless—and childish—mannerisms before they were seen. Never mind the fact the rainclouds were starting to drizzle. The need to satisfy her urge to hit him overrode the need to find shelter.

This desire was consequently overridden by the door of a traditional-styled Japanese house being opened by a rotund, blue-haired adult, who buttoned his gray blazer. Thoughts of anxiety and fear of being chased by peacekeepers and, later, DSI soldiers rooted Tailmon to the spot, until she discerned him waving them to come over.

Janyu's timing was perfect, too; the drizzle was swiftly becoming rain. Denser by the minute.

"I was looking out the window when you landed," explained the family man. "You three are pretty lucky." His eyes sent a passing glance to the street, now inundated by raindrops, not noticing Hikari's and Tailmon's brief stare on Veemon.

"Kiriha forgot to give me your number when he called an hour ago, err, Hikari, was it?" He tendered his hand for a shake.

Hikari accepted the offer, confirming her identity. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Li. I really appreciate it. We didn't want to bother you like this in the middle of the night but—

"Don't worry about it!" Janyu twittered, maintaining the warm hospitality. "Always an honor to help the Twelve any way we can."

"THE TWELVE?" screamed a young girl from inside.

"Xiaochun, wait!"

A preadolescent girl, clothed in a fuchsia mandarin gown, suddenly burst from the doorway, her head inserting itself through the gap between Janyu's waist and the wooden frame. Xiaochun Li eyeballed the three of them for so many seconds Tailmon felt awkward. "Ooooooh, it reaaally IS the Twelve!"

Her light brown eyes moved from one to another. "There's Hikari… Tailmon… and…"

The little girl squealed when she recognized the blue dragon. "OOOHHHH IT'S VEEMON!"

Veemon glanced nervously at Tailmon just before Xiaochun ran forward and _tackled_ him on the spot. "He's sooooooooo cute! In person's waaayy better than the animé!" She started rubbing her face on the dragon's white chest and belly in pure adoration.

Tailmon giggled at the sight, on the verge of breaking into ostensible laughter when she caught the redness on Veemon's muzzle and his struggles to liberate himself from this awkward _and_ uncomfortable position on the floor. (In retrospect, it reminded Tailmon of the encounters with _her_ fanbase. God, each rabid fan was a **terrible** experience. And then there's the whole fanfiction crap…)

"Can, uhh, someone get this fangirl off, me?" Veemon pleaded. "Anyone? **NOW**?"

"Xiaochun!" called a stern voice. A teenager in an orange vest, of no more than fifteen, walked past the open door. A white digimon resembling a terrier was perched on the top of his head, its long ears reaching down to the tatami's wooden flooring. Tailmon recalled meeting another member of its species ten years ago. _A terriermon._

"You can't just pounce on guests like that," the teen censured. "It's rude."

"But Jianliang!" she complained. "Look!" Xiaochun held Veemon for her brother to see. "It's Veemon! _The_ Veemon!"

"He's still our guest, little sis…"

"He's right, Xiaochun." Janyu kneeled before her, gently prying her fingers off Veemon's body. ("Thank you.")

"But…!"

"_Especially_ if they're celebrities."

"O, okay," she acceded with a tinge of shallow gloom.

Hearing three stomachs growl in front of him, he proposed, "Why don't you go see what we have in the fridge? I don't think they've eaten yet."

"Okay!" The youth acceded once more, her disappointment turning into joy. It wasn't surprising to see her happy as she returned to the house; the thought of having three famous people and feeding them was an effective incentive.

Jianliang beat Janyu to the apology. "Sorry 'bout my sister," he articulated. "Xiaochun's really playful and all"—a chuckle—"and you can say Veemon's been her favorite digimon since—

"Since _Zero Two_, I bet," the dragon grumbled. "Dammit, why are so many people _obsessed_ with me? **I** personally think Tailmon's cuter than—

"Are you alright?" interrupted Jianliang, tilting his head. "You sound angry."

"He's been having a rough day," Tailmon and Hikari answered simultaneously. They looked at each other for a split second. It was rare for their minds to be in sync.

Upon hearing that, Terriermon's mouth exploded, hurling what was obviously a foreign language at the group. "无问题!" The grin on his lips and the cheerful beads that were his eyes were trained on the blue dragon. _Is that supposed to cheer him up? _Tailmon wondered.

"Remember," Jianliang murmured. He was whispering at a volume audible only to those on the porch. His words took on a veil of slight disapproval and criticism. "You're _not_ wearing your triband." Just then Tailmon realized they could still be seen by curious neighbors and passersby so long as they were on the porch.

"Heehee!" the Child-level grinned. "Sorry, Jianliang! I'll go back now." Terriermon kicked off Jianliang's head and returned into the house.

"Ow!" The tamer's fingers scratched the spot his digimon partner leaped from, rubbing the ultramarine-laden head he inherited it from his dad. "Geez, he didn't have to do that." Then he turned to Veemon, dropping to one knee. "But Terriermon's right: you don't look so good."

"You _think_?" the Chosen spat, cranky from all the unnecessary attention. Tailmon could discern a desire to be alone for the moment.

Fortunately, so did Jianliang. "We got some beer in the fridge, if you want."

Veemon didn't provide a real response. "Well…"

This time Janyu intervened, first addressing the dragon digimon. "You can have Xiaochun's old room while you're getting ready for your mission. I think the time alone would do you some good."

"R-really?" Tailmon heard a subtle anticipation in that remark.

The family man nodded. "Yes. Hasn't been used in a bit." Attending to Hikari and Tailmon, "You two can use our guest room, then. That good?"

"Highly appreciated," muttered the Child of Light, grateful. "Thanks."

Afterwards, Janyu stood aside and beckoned for them to enter. "Now come in, let's get you settled in a bit and we'll call you once the food's ready."

"You don't have to do that," said Hikari.

Janyu ignored her. "I insist."

Jianliang rotated and sauntered back inside. The teen turned to Veemon, head twitching towards the doorway. "C'mon, Veemon, I'll walk you to your room."

The Digimon of Miracles followed the teen in. Janyu looked expectantly at Hikari and Tailmon, waiting for them to enter the house. The lady Yagami's feet were about to start pacing when she suddenly stopped and, digging her hands into the pockets of her auburn pants, pulled out a rectangular, clamshell device about six inches in length and half as long in width.

It was her D-Terminal.

Tailmon noticed the sudden dilation of her irises the moment her human half flipped open the cover and read the screen. "Hikari," she accosted, looking up at her beloved friend and surrogate sister. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing, Tailmon," she reassured her. "Let's go in."

The reassuring display did not convince the white cat. Something was wrong. Hikari did not bother pocketing the D-Terminal when she marched into the Li family's house, letting it dangle by her side, held precariously by her delicate fingers.

Tailmon understood this strange behavior when she glimpsed the Kanji on the sender's data field.

Hikari Yagami had received a message.

From **Miyako Inoue**.

* * *

Christopher Van Numen won the race to Tokyo, arriving at the outskirts of the metropolis about forty-five minutes ahead of Nefertimon and her two passengers. Exploiting his extreme strength, the blond bent his legs and leaped straight to the rooftops of medium-rise buildings. Proceeding with his eastern run, the blond jumped from one roof to another, whether it was a commercial building, a condominium, an apartment complex, or a hotel.

When Chris finally stopped, a good ten to fifteen minutes had passed. Standing on top of the Grand Prince Hotel Takanawa in Minato, the blond found himself balancing on the narrow concrete fence running the perimeter of its roof. Falling from the low height of a hundred feet would produce a medium-sized crater and a loud, crashing sound that would be far more detrimental than the negligible injuries sustained from the impact.

The fear of heights, however, did not consume Christopher, as it would for most people. What made him pause was the scenery unfolding two kilometers before him. From the top of the hotel, Chris could not only see the Rainbow Bridge but also the Daikanransha Ferris wheel.

_Just what I needed_, fumed Christopher, _another reminder._

It was a spectacular sight. The white towers supporting the world-famous suspension bridge were painted in a curious combination of red, white, and green. At twelve midnight the transient population was low, although the few cars plying across its two decks would be showered upon by the spectrum many a local believed—_asserted_—contributed to its colloquial name.

Christopher Van Numen, however, did not feel any sort of amazement take hold of him. The only thing that _did_ capture him was a heavy weight on his chest, one easily (and temporarily) relieved with a long sigh.

_Face it, Christopher_, he told himself, fighting whatever ensnared him. _You're in this too deep. Remember, man, remember…_

"It was for the greater good." Exhaling his troubles, the blond dived forward.

The walkways running on the Rainbow Bridge's sides were closed to the public by midnight, but Christopher paid no heed to the "NO ENTRY" signs beside the entrance. With one leap he leapt over the divider and landed on the thick cables suspending the structure itself, lifting up the blend of asphalt, concrete, steel, and flesh, its massive size providing Christopher with a five-foot walkway.

No guards. No through traffic. Accompanying the blond were the radiance of the lamps responsible for the bridge's eponymous trademark and the strong gusts of wind blanketing the upper area of the structure. Chris had no problem with it, so long as he watched where he was going.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't. The Realm Scanner had been activated the moment he set foot on the massive cable, with the HUD covering his eyes set onto the expanded map, zoomed out just enough for an inch to represent half a kilometer. _Retrieve DNA sample._ _Keyword: Lalamon._

The R-Scanner's target was none other than Yoshino's partner digimon, that floating flower bud. She wasn't Chris's prime objective for this task. Her older sister was. Tina, until last week, once worked for the Modifiers. _She_ would have information on the Odaiba entrance. No doubt about it.

_Seeker_, he mentally commanded, initiating the program that would track the digimon based on the DNA sample Christopher obtained from the saliva coated by the spat-out bolus he rubbed onto the Scanner's azure orb.

Another tab was opened simultaneously. _Storage_, he ordered, quickly demanding for his precious, digital camera, forcing his high-tech bracer to open its memory card. The first photograph it opened was one of a young, raven-haired teenager of about twelve years, whose arm rounded the shoulder of an older, pale-skinned man Christopher recognized as Chester Wilferson. Both faced the camera, holding glasses of frothy liquor in the air with nothing but mirth on their faces.

The only thing Christopher had in common with the youthful adolescent was the medallion dangling on their necks

Ignoring this picture, he went straight to the end, seeking only to view the photos Veemon took when he was playing with his camera during the previous night. Even though the shots prominently featured the dragon, the many expressions (ranging from formal to wacky and cute) he could make with his muzzle, and random shots of the passing scenery, the blond went through each one slowly. No matter how well or horrible they were taken.

Each time he came across a photograph of Veemon grinning, the only emotion he would feel was immense remorse. The sight of the Daikanransha, though obscured by the HUD's translucent sheen, did not make him feel any better, for it was a cruel reminder of the few times he had truly acknowledged their brief, but tight friendship.

"…_You're feeling guilty about this…"_

The second tab then prominently displayed a rather cute picture of Veemon sitting on Chris's shoulders, mesmerizing the blond. Left hand propped on his head, with face directed towards the camera he lifted on his outstretched right hand, taking on a big grin. Thank to the angle of the shot and the way Veemon held the Canon Ixus, it was a photograph that captured his entire body, if one didn't count the fact Chris's body obstructed his tail and legs. _"Now that's a keeper!" _the blond recalled the Chosen saying with a happy chuckle. _"Chris, check this out."_

Who knew he'd be _that _delighted with his digital camera?

He took a deep breath and sighed, letting Shuu's analysis exploit his vulnerability. _"Like me, you're a full-grown adult, yet you aren't mature enough for this sort of decision."_

Before the memory could replay further, Christopher felt gravity pull him down with nothing to resist its force. Air began flowing upwards and his stomach felt the familiar sensation of floating.

Falling, rather.

So engrossed was the depressed blond he _slipped_ in his footing. He made a grab for the nearest hold—the giant cable, any one of the thin but strong wires lining the sides, or even the very road they held up—but Chris was just too far. He stuck his hands into his pockets, reaching for—

Never mind.

Christopher fell into the icy waters of the Tokyo Bay just as the Realm Scanner found Lalamon's current location, adding a pink triangle to the map displayed in the first tab. Cursing the ill-fated timing, _Goddammit._ Now he was forced to swim.

It didn't matter, still. While most people would be frightened to death and shivering their way to hypothermia in this situation, Christopher was rather calm and actually comfortable with the temperature and buoyancy. The fact he wasn't normal like most people helped immensely.

As he swam to the shoreline of the artificial island, Chris's mind wandered once more, thinking about the emotions intermittently consuming his every thought.

They numbed him, burdened him. The sheer thought of it tempted him to go on a bloodthirsty rampage, killing everything and everyone in sight. Was this how Shuu felt when he and Jun broke up? This reg—no, regret was not the proper word.

What Christopher felt was closer to anger. To undying rage. Directed at the very threads of fate that brought about the despicable circumstances he continued to operate in. He only had nothing but justified rage and cruelty, rationalized consequences for being deprived of _relationships_ in general, arguably the most important thing in life.

Surely this was the very same emotion gripping Shuu Kido. Christopher believed, despite Shuu's insistence he no longer held regrets, the elder Kido still had some form of compunction lingering within his soul somewhere. Breaking up with one's significant other for the sake of that person _and _one's principles was just as bad as dissolving a strong friendship for the very same reason. No matter how many years would pass, there would always be regret lurking deep within his psyche.

It was precisely this reason that prevented Christopher from disposing his digital camera. It may be primitive in comparison to everything on his person, but in its memory card were his most precious memories, every photograph backed up in the Realm Scanner's immense memory.

Exacerbating Christopher's guilt was his own confusion of his dissolved ties with the Digimon of Miracles. The blond had never betrayed anyone he considered true friends, those who were worthy of knowing who he truly was beyond the ruthless, noninterventionist renegade veneer he took on in the presence of others.

If he never considered Veemon a friend, why was he feeling this bad about the separation? Until now he still couldn't forget the tear-drenched eyes and the grieving expression on his muzzle. Chris never had exceptional people skills, and back in the past, it was usually Sally or Ivan who took on the job of "training him".

This emotional rollercoaster was another reminder of his losses.

Beep.

The HUD flashed red, beeping a few more times to seize Christopher's attention. He gazed up at the 10-floor apartment complex before him. Then he blanched, wishing he could slam his fists into the road and throw a piece of the asphalt at the nearest car. He clenched his fists at the sight.

The blond had no problem with the architecture. The layout of the building was rather simple, really. One normally entered the building through any of the ground-level entrances centered on its sides. Visitors and residents alike take the elevator to the floor of their destination, walking through the corridor to the rooms. Some of these rooms, however, on certain apartment buildings, could only be accessed via corridor decks enclosed by a concrete fence.

Christopher did not need his holographic map to pinpoint Lalamon's exact location. Adding filters and other visual icons to his sharp vision were all that's needed to direct his goldenrod eyes to a green door on the 8th floor, third from the very left. It was discernible from the ground.

What caused his recoil was not the realization he spent so much time thinking about his compunction he found himself standing before the destination with seawater _still _dripping from his clothes.

"Wait!" chirped Veemon, asking the blond to stop and let him leap down from his back. Since their first pit stop in Odaiba that afternoon, the blue dragon had been directing Chris to the elementary school his human half and friends attended ten years ago when his crimson eyes discovered this building.

Though the two of them were a couple of streets apart from the 10-storey building, Veemon could not help but take three to four steps towards it. "Whoa, it hasn't changed a single bit."

"_What_ hasn't changed?" Chris felt compelled to ask, giving the Chosen an inquisitive stare.

"What do you think?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. Veemon pointed at the tallest building in the vicinity as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "**That**."

Chris did not say anything. He merely nodded. A silent cue for the blue dragon to initiate an explanation of some sort. The Digimon of Miracles picked this up quite easily. "I used to live there," he said. "Daisuke, me," he breathed, "and the rest of the family, until we all moved out in 2005."

The blond pretended to take note. He was going to forget about this in the next fifteen minutes anyway. There was no point to entertaining Veemon's worthless details of the past except for respect and, as always, genuine curiosity.

Before Chris could insist for them to move forward, the blue dragon seized his attention by leaping straight up to his chest and, taking hold of the blond's shirt, identifying his old apartment. "See that brown door, Chris?" A blue digit was trained straight at a door on the eighth floor. "It's the one on the farthest left. Unit 825."

"Uhm, I don't…"

Veemon exhaled an exasperated grunt and, taking hold of Chris's jaw, shifted his face in the right direction. "See it?" he babbled like a child. "See it?"

He wasn't so blind he required the Chosen's assistance. Chris already saw the door the moment he pointed it out. The blond could even read the number nailed to the wood itself. "Yeah, Vee," he acknowledged. "I see it." Then his goldenrod eyes fell on Veemon's muzzle. "I see it alright."

"Now let me go." It was impossible for Veemon _not _to notice his frustrated stare. His snout was so close the dragon could probably see the annoyance in Christopher's countenance. "Haha," he sheepishly laughed to dispel the tension.

He failed miserably. "Ha, ha." His palms released the blond's jaw.

"Dude, do **not** do that again." Chris couldn't look at Veemon straight. "It's humiliating," he admitted.

"Okay," the Digimon of Miracles acceded drearily, planting his foot on Chris's chest. Veemon swiveled around his neck to take a rather comfortable seat on his shoulders. "I won't," he pledged, fixing his tail so it ran down the blond's back. "I won't."

"You happy?" Before Chris could answer, Veemon pinched the blond's cheeks and pulled them apart in the shape of a forced grin. He giggled playfully. "Heh, thought so."

Apparently he did not forget about the Motomiyas' old apartment. Unit 825 was still there, just as he remembered it. Still brown. Compelled by his thoughts' short brush with the memory, Chris juxtaposed it to the door marked by the R-Scanner's seeker program and uncovered a useless piece of information.

"Haha…"

It just so happened Tina's unit was right next door.

Chris laughed, because he perceived the tragic irony of this revelation. "Hahaha…"

No doubt the trivia would make his former friend wonder whether the Fujiedas and the Motomiyas were once neighbors, or were actually acquaintances. Better yet, friends.

But the blond was not thinking about this at all as he dashed and, through a powerful leap, jumped all the way to the eighth floor. His mouth had curved into a frightening grin, constantly exhaling a cacophony of laughter gifted by malevolent stains.

Chris laughed, because the R-Scanner just indicated the full restoration of its **Assault Mode**.

"**BWAHAHAHA!**" he celebrated, slamming the green door with a powerful kick. He literally made the wooden panel fly airborne in not less than ten shards of lumber. Anyone who heard the sudden crash and mustered the balls to investigate would be greeted with a blast of æther. No one could stop him now!

Christopher Van Numen wasn't leaving Unit 824 without his precious information.

.

.

.

_Ignoring his troubled conscience and sticking true to both his mission and philosophical ideals, Christopher invades Tina Fujieda's home in the middle of the night, seeking information that would allow him to pursue his only lead to the third fragment of the Realmstone. Emboldened by the restoration of the Realm Scanner's _Assault Mode_, Chris continues to make bold moves without fear, his power multiplying immensely to the horror of those who realize his lack of emotional maturity._

_On the other hand, as the trio of Chosen prepare for a three-hour stay in the Li family's house, Veemon begins to show signs of recovery__. However, the message from Miyako's D-Terminal unsettles the Child of Light._

_How will Christopher Van Numen carry himself during his home invasion? What was written on the message displayed in Hikari's D-Terminal? Coming up next on "_The Interloper", _Psychoanalysis.  
_

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[4] Before I say anything else, I'd like to point out that all characters and concepts from _Star Ocean: Till the End of Time_ and _Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann_ are not mine. _Tetsugakudo Park_ can be found in real life, as is the telecommunications company _NTT DoCoMo_.

[5] The characters "无问题 " actually represent Terriermon's catchphrase "Moumentai." This is a Cantonese saying that means just as Terriermon said it did in _Tamers_ ("No problem"). It is funny, though, how its Mandarin version, 没问题 (pronounced "mei wenti"), literally reads "No question". I guess the implicit meaning of "no problem" and "no worries" comes from the subtle implications behind inquisitive remarks.

Now that I mention it, the Li family (Janyu, Xiaochun, and Jianliang) are actually the Wongs from the English dubs of _Tamers_. Of course, as I prefer to stay true to the original... :D

[6] For your reference, here's the "piece of advice" Shuu was giving Chris (which mostly flew in and out of his ears):

_"Don't give me that crap. I can tell from your actions and the way you spaced out just now that you're feeling guilty about this. Really guilty. Now, I have no idea what you went through or what your mission is, but as far as I can see, you need to reconsider. I mean, like me, you're a full-grown adult, yet you aren't mature enough for this sort of decision! I know exactly how you feel, Christopher, but since you obviously can't handle it, you're better off following them and reconciling with Veemon."_

[7] Responses to reviews will be placed here if this chapter receives any. Truncated of course.

**Coop97**: I'm hoping it's either your exhaustion, or the fact my chapters are long. When I read it word by word, I don't really feel the confusion, but then again, that may be because I am the author. I simply wanted to emulate my favorite writers on this site (they're the ones who wrote the high-quality stories in my favorites) and one of their techniques was by inducing flashbacks without the need to resort to italicization or other significant signs depicting otherwise, as if it was blended into the narrative...

Skipping paragraphs and sentences happen to me too, whenever I'm reading the long but well-written fiction posted here on occasion. I don't complain though. All I do is reread it a few days later and try again at getting a better grasp at what happened. It's a written story after all. No need to rush through the entire thing. **  
**

**RazenX**: You forgot to add "determined" to Chris's ruthlessness XD Well, the next chapter will be dwelling into the "tortured psyche" of the two for one last time before we officially enter the DSI Infiltration mission, and you **know** I've been planning it. Funny how I have time to do this... lol.

Indeed, Kurata is the perfect villain for the story. But so is Yamaki! XD Simon is there, yes. He'll be a villain in the story, but he won't be controlling Gurren Lagann. C'mon, that's overkill. I don't do cameos like **that**. :P_  
_


	20. Psychoanalysis

**Pre-chapter author's notes:  
**

[1] Word count stands a little below 14,500 words. Pretty good. Falls within the average.

[2] Chapter content has been split **once again**. I found a pretty good split point, plus with what I've already written for the next chapter it should come up to more or less around my minimum 10K when I'm done with it.

[3] BTW, I encourage you all to read my companion piece to this update: _Being Famous_. It's a two-shot between Taichi and Tailmon! The first half shows Taichi and Tailmon doing some catch-up while watching the _Digimon Adventure_ anime, with the second featuring Tailmon regaling the Child of Courage with a crazy story. Don't forget to tell me what you think, since I've been experimenting with my writing style. :D

[4] As usual, if you have any comments, criticisms, or any other feedback regarding my story, please don't hesitate to leave a review. ESPECIALLY if you have a anything to say about my pacing or my portrayal of the canon characters. Your opinion matters and I take quality writing **very seriously**. Not surprising given my desired profession. Anyway, I now present Chapter 20, _Psychoanalysis_. Hope you enjoy it. ^_^

* * *

Strands of hair, streaked with burgundy, draped the sides of Tina's face as she meticulously filled several sheets of yellow pad with information. Information concerning her plans for the future, beginning with her next line of work as part of the peacekeeping forces, up to but not limited to how she intended on investing her hard-earned money in financial instruments to help finance Yoshino's future expenses. Expenses spent on fulfilling her dreams.

Budgeting and financial planning were tough responsibilities facing every grown-up, one even the most immature of people must embrace. Abdication on the grounds of infantilism or lack of confidence in one's ability to control personal finances would never be valid.

Especially when the results affected the quality of life over the long run.

If there was something Tina liked about planning for the future, it was the sense of control she felt from it. She wasn't one to commit sacrilege and think everything would follow through the way it had been planned out to be. Life cannot be mapped out, after all. It was a truth humanity has failed—and would forevermore continue to do so—to internalize.

Nonetheless, there was always that erudite axiom to retreat to: it never hurt to be prepared.

Thus, Tina found herself toiling over her future plans the moment she completed the paperwork necessary for her new job application, stashed in her sling bag ready for tomorrow morning.

In spite of this strenuous labor, Tina Fujieda felt happy. Tonight had concluded perfectly.

She was granted an honorable discharge from the DSI's military divisions.

She had officially ended her career as a soldier.

She now had more time to spend with her younger sister.

She also made the wonderful discovery of liberated SCAIs being very good company—before brunch at Konata's that afternoon, Tina obviously considered Lalamon an exception rather than the rule. Such lines of thinking weren't astonishing, considering SCAIs—she should **really** call them "digimon" now— unequipped with domestication devices (i.e. the triband suppressors) were constantly purported by the Digital Suppression Initiative as belligerent, barbaric, treating human life with condescension, and unable to accept, let alone _tolerate_, the existence of a sentient species far weaker than them in terms of physical capabilities. Not to mention walking entities of mass destruction.

Barring the Chosen Children, the Digidestined, and their SCAIs—damn, she **really **should start calling them "digimon"—the collective public obviously found it hard to contradict such slander considering the information was "fully backed" by the DSI's in-house statisticians, sociologists, and research teams.

All the negative publicity coming from Hollywood didn't help either. A few years ago, Tina once saw a trailer for a movie depicting the liberated SCAIs—_digimon_, she corrected herself. _Habits __**REALLY **__die hard!_—as covert manipulators of the families taking care of them. Taichi Yagami, then the United Nation's sole representative of the Digimon World, was reported to have thrown a fit on global networks over the implications.

When Veemon forgave her for, well, trying to kill him in the names of duty and humanity last week, Tina was dumbfounded. More astounding still was how he warmed up to her during the brunch and the fact they parted as friends, considering the open hostilities permeating the onset of their gathering. Since then, it was hard to think of Veemon as a mere creature or a "belligerent, barbaric, condescending entity of mass destruction".

After they left Konata's, Yoshino actually asked the ex-soldier what she thought of the Chosen, having shared her opinion of him being fun-loving (and Christopher being someone who always looked like he was hiding something).

"He's still a child," Tina recalled her response, giving the question some time for proper rumination. _A child holding on so desperately to whatever was left of his naivete and innocence._ How he coped with the sight of all the corpses slowly disintegrating into data particles in the Great Forest during the Midnight Assault was a thought that accompanied this supplementary comment.

A thought that made Tina shudder.

She sighed as she brushed her hair back. It was regrettable how she didn't have any information on Daisuke to begin with. Information on the Chosen Children's whereabouts were available only to the highest ranks in the chain of command, disbursed to subordinates on a need-to-know basis only.

At least, Tina hoped, Christopher would take care of Veemon in Daisuke's place until the two were reunited again. Despite the warning signs, their relationship was quite strong.

Tina Fujieda was so engrossed in her cogitations, she lost track of time.

She forgot about her plans for the future.

She did not hear the maniacal laughter approaching from the door, audible in the tranquil night.

Neither did she realize how portentous it was until the moment the wooden door hiding Tina within the confines of the living room away from the unsafe environs without shattered into fragments and splinters; and by a force so strong it tore the mahogany panel from its hinges **and** dragged part of the concrete doorway with it!

Seven hours from now, basked in sunrise, Tina would be **so** happy for Yoshino and Lalamon being deep sleepers.

Christopher Van Numen's form, poised amid the scattered remains of her door, could be described as ominous. Every shaggy breath exhaling from his gaping mouth evidenced the recklessness of his figure. He flexed his left hand, its knuckles producing a stark crack that glued Tina with fear, the silver bracer it perpetually equipped portending disaster in the near-term.

She did not like the glint of malice radiating from those goldenrod eyes. Neither did she find his creepy smirk as pleasant. Not when it was so wide it formed dimples. Not when her intuition **insisted** it was written with intent and nothing but.

The grip Christopher's sudden invasion had on Tina Fujieda was so strong it rooted her to the spot beside her white, leather sofa, allowing the blond to narrow the twenty-foot distance between them in less than a second.

A breeze generated by the sudden move flung the sheets of her future plans to the corner, where it would stay neglected and forgotten for days, as if all the endeavors she had made the past hour or so was pointless. **Meaningless**.

Tina had only a fleeting moment to recognize the person who barged into their home so nonchalantly.

She was terrified.

Petrified into immobility.

Her eyes scrutinized the vest protecting the man's torso. She didn't realize it earlier that afternoon, but now that she was—by force, unfortunately—so close to it she could even she buttons and zippers, Tina noticed it was tailored similarly to those worn by the Commandramon from the Tactician's group in the Digital World, its black hue deceiving her into believing it melded seamlessly with his pants.

It was also reinforced with Chrome Digizoid. Probably, she figured.

His blue trench coat, open and unzipped, flapped about, moving in concert with the night winds flowing into her living room. Along with the ashen staff secured stiffly through what were obviously built-in folds and creases in the coat, it emphasized the atmosphere of danger.

Christopher may not be openly flaunting his fearsome equipment, but from her experience with him, he was death itself. A force nothing but a Modifier or a high-level digimon—oh, _wow_, so she got it in the presence of danger—could defend against. If conventional weaponry could barely damage the blond, what more an unarmed ex-soldier with some years of combat experience?

There could be nothing more unnerving than knowing your life could be easily snuffed out on a whim.

Especially when anger and deep-seated frustration seemed to influence the man in control, if that wasn't already apparent in the madness clouding in his eyes, shaking his tightly-clenched fists.

Only one word came out of his lips. "You."

Before she could react, a rough hand seized Tina by the neck and lifted her above the floor. She gasped, clutching Chris's unyielding grip. _This is no way to treat a lady in her late 20's!_ Tina choked from the stress of inhaling precious air.

"Ha," she coughed. "How…?"

Although the way he held her enabled her to breathe with severe discomfort, speaking was a different matter altogether.

Her voice died so easily, but the message was enough to be carried from one word alone.

_How did you find my home? __**Why**__ did you attack?_

Tina hoped their brunch—and their brief conversation on Digital Modification—would compel Christopher to be a **little **more polite, explain how he found her residence, and perhaps apologize for destroying her door.

His response was disbursed in moments. "I'm going to be brief."

Sadly, not the one she sought.

The lack of insouciance on his part informed Tina he no longer cared about their previous correspondence. She was no longer a human person in his eyes. She was a mere creature, relegated to the position of a stranger.

Anyone debased into unfamiliar grounds, by decision or by random encounters, would be treated with actions infused with indifference and detachment. The lack of amity, of _knowledge_ of the "other" lubricated the ability to act for the good or ill of the stranger in question.

If one told a zealous terrorist to fly a plane into a commercial skyscraper in the middle of a busy day, he would do it without hesitation. But if the same man was ordered to gun down his own family and his closest friends, diffidence would be his rejoinder, for it was an act only the most heartless of people would commit. Loyalty to a cause would never make dealing with loved ones, with _respected_ persons, any easier.

Not knowing someone facilitated treating that person as an "it". The misunderstood and discriminated digimon were the most ostensible examples of modern day.

This was a truth Tina had seen for herself in her deployment in the Middle East some years ago, when terrorist cells exploited digimon to their advantage.

A truth she experienced that afternoon.

Now its reciprocal was being applied to her. The blond, by virtue of his insensitive act, had discarded their short-lived acquaintance like it was nothing. "You used to work for DSI's R&D," he spoke.

The words Christopher verbalized was indeed laconic and straightforward, concurrently carrying a deeper meaning only the context of this dialogue could unravel. A hidden message Tina deciphered from his retort alone.

_I'm not answering you. I came here for business and I intend to keep it that way_.

"You **obviously** know where the entrance is." They made eye contact. Locked into mutual focus, the more Tina gazed into Chris's goldenrod pools, the more she was compelled to look away, to break it—she couldn't. The power of his ferocious gaze ensnared her, overpowering her willpower into maintaiing the visual connection. "And you're going to tell me."

Her inability to do nothing but watch and let herself be maltreated by someone as strong was dumbfounding. What petrified her? Why was the fear so strong, she felt no drive to fight back, although it obviously would've been as effective as attempting to hurt a god—a monster beyond reckoning?

Was it the way he regarded her?

"The fact you live here in Odaiba validates the intel in my possession."

Was it the way he _looked_ at her?

A ruthless declaration followed. "You **BETTER** not lie to me," he growled.

Tina perused her captor and invader one more time before it came to her. Why didn't she realize it sooner?

It wasn't the menacing equipment. It wasn't the nonchalant maltreatment she was receiving.

It wasn't the somber, frightening glare that had been cast upon her.

.

.

It was Veemon.

Rather, it was Veemon's _absence_.

She remembered the strong influence that digimon had on Christopher's behavior. Though far, far weaker than the man himself, the nature of their friendship allowed the blue dragon to quash the man's impulses and enforce (indignant) compliance to **his** code of ethics, to **his** naïve and innocent ideals.

Tina was impelled, for an instant, to forget her own predicament and bask in the irony of their relationship. The Chosen Children believed, against the hypothetical clout of DSI's research, that humans often actuated the actions and ideologies of their digital partners. Assuming that was true, didn't Christopher and Veemon—himself a partner to another human—subvert this structure by the very fact it was the latter who had an imprint on the former?

So why wasn't he here now? Why was the blond alone, doing whatever he wanted?

What happened in the twelve hours between brunch and now?

The elder Fujieda would've voiced these concerns had the devil holding her life in his hands—literally!—disseminated his impatience. "Make me wait a little longer and I'll do **more** than strangle you."

Forcibly recalled to reality, Tina started to sweat.

Defusing the situation was not going to be easy, not without the Digimon of Miracles to help.

* * *

The term "midnight snack" understated what the Li family prepared for them within thirty minutes of their arrival. Hikari and Tailmon ogled the large tray of _onigiri_, rice balls filled with delicious meat and crisp seaweed, brought by Mayumi Li. Hikari found herself wondering how amazing it was a simple woman like her could look _so_ beautiful despite the sleep-disheveled hair and the brown apron that had been so hastily draped over her pink sleeping dress.

Janyu was definitely one lucky man, Hikari would certainly muse.

"Go ahead," encouraged the mother. She watched them expectantly, as if it had been a deep, hidden desire for her to get feedback from those who were neither family nor friends.

Tailmon heard her stomach rumble, screaming for it to be fed, having been deprived of dinner since the bento box Mantarou had so thoughtfully given to her that afternoon. "Don't mind if I do," she murmured, her dainty voice audible for everyone at the table to hear, with "everyone" being Hikari, Janyu, Mayumi, and of course, herself. Jianliang was busy tucking the rambunctious Xiaochun back in bed.

One bite was all she needed to realize these were better than any of the wrapped ready-to-eat _onigiri_ commonly found in convenience stores. Far better. "Hikari," Tailmon recommended, not minding the few rice grains that fell from her feline muzzle. "You should try this, it's really good!" The white cat took another bite, feeling the warm, marinated meat land on her tongue. "Whoa!"

Tailmon didn't know whether the wonderful taste came from the way it was prepared, or from the hunger that had been pestering her since they left Mt. Fuji. Either way, she could care less. "It's **scrumptious**!" she jolted, grabbing another one with her free paw while tossing what was left of the first into her open mouth.

She swallowed it in one gulp and licked her lips as she bit into the second. These weren't just better than the ones anyone could merely buy; not even Yuuko's homemade riceballs could match up to them!

Mayumi Li blushed. "Thanks," she said, appreciating the praise. "It's a family recipe."

"Wow, Tailmon, you're right," Hikari bit into her first one. Unlike her digital half, she chose to savor the sweet, yet salty flavor and the firm texture that complemented the softness of the rice and the crispness of the seaweed. "Mmmmm," she hummed in content. "You know, Mrs. Li, you should sell this in schools."

With a flick of the wrist, Mayumi courteously rejected the idea. "You flatter me!" she said, the red on her cheeks becoming more apparent. "I don't think this family could handle having another business. The _Monster Makers_ takes so much of Janyu's time as it is…"

"Oh," Hikari replied, sounding a bit disappointed. If she had been selling it, the Chosen Child could've asked Mayumi to supply the Digidestined with her _onigiri_. Though it was a different recipe from her mother's, the enamoring interaction between the firm meat and soft rice reminded her of Yuuko's cooking, invoking warm memories of the past.

A past that was out of her reach—another brutal reminder that Yuuko and Susumu were no longer her parents, now bearing the name of "Kamiya". Of course, that was Taichi's idea to begin with.

"Oh," Mayumi spoke, noticing something was amiss. "Wasn't there someone else with you? That digimon Xiaochun's been raving about?"

"You mean Veemon?" Tailmon propounded, regaining her senses after swallowing what was her 5th rice ball.

She nodded. "He's missing out."

Ruminating, Tailmon realized he _was_ missing out. But why? Veemon was a voracious eater, even when he was in his Baby II form, Chibimon. Literally a "garbage disposal", a bottomless pit where all leftovers would disappear into! The white cat knew for a fact Veemon would _greedily_ consume one riceball after another without even chewing, steered by wanton disregard for others and a pure desire to devour everything on the table.

So why wasn't he here? This was completely out of character!

Her purple-tipped ears drooped. Then again, she knew the root cause of the distressed, atypical behavior he had been displaying these past few hours.

Janyu Li detected the change in Tailmon and attempted to veer the subject away from the blue dragon. "Terriermon's fetching him at the moment. Knowing that little rascal, they'll be here in a few minutes."

The programmer's wife apparently understood the silent cue to withdraw and promptly obeyed his request, but as she took her seat beside her husband to take one piece of _onigiri_ for herself, Hikari raised her voice. "The truth is, he's had a rough day."

A new voice replied, "Isn't that what you told us back at the porch?"

Using a green handkerchief, Jianliang Li wiped the sweat gathering on his forehead as he walked. He reached for one of the cabinets in the dining room and brought out a tall glass, which he filled with water via the dispenser sitting on the corner of the room, alone and neglected for the time being.

Tailmon eyed him, training her gaze back at her human half when he leaned on the kitchen counter, observing the group… and waiting for a story from the Child of Light. "Let me explain," Hikari went on. "Mr. Li, you know about the state we're in right now, do you?"

His reply was a puzzled glance, prompting the young lady to jog his memory. "I don't know if Mr. Ichijouji told you, but the Chosen Children have been scattered."

A laconic rundown of the situation was given. Three of the Chosen Children were dead. Four, stranded in the Digital were virtually AWOL, their activities and whereabouts unknown to the vast network available to the Digidestined.

Hikari hesitated to speak about the Child of Miracles, but considering how his fate was crucial in explaining Veemon's odd conduct as of late, "Daisuke vanished a month before the war began in 2011," she narrated. "We tried to look for him but when we… when we couldn't find him, we, w-we, all thought he was dead. Abducted, murdered, and dumped somewhere in Tokyo in bits and pieces. T-taichi told me people **actually **do this in the Philippines..."

She gulped. Tailmon kept her cerulean eyes on her. Her paw, concealed by the table, went to Hikari's thigh, squeezing to provide some emotional support, to tell her that everything was okay, that she was there for her. The Digimon of Light felt her reciprocation: a soft, gentle palm wrapping itself around her furry appendage.

"But Veemon's alive," she went on. "Searching for his partner. He came from the Digital World to Mt. Fuji just to look for him."

Mayumi didn't know how to react but merely nod, content with the choice of listening some more.

Janyu was more critical of the tale. "He went to the Real World **ALONE**?"

Tailmon knew where this was going. No sane digimon could ever hope to journey through the Tokyo metropolis without earning the attention of the peacekeepers, the digimon they enslaved, or the occasional military patrol, **especially** if it was one unaffected by the triband suppressors. Humans were generally afraid of "wild monsters", no thanks to the propaganda spread heartlessly by the DSI.

Digimon incapable of stealth, in broad daylight or otherwise, would never make it to the safe refuge only a Digidestined-affiliated family could provide, _let alone Mt. Fuji_.

As the Chosen expected, her partner mentioned _that man_, but only in passing. "He wasn't alone," Hikari apprised the programmer. "He was with," she paused, not knowing how to describe the bastard who manipulated the innocent, playful dragon without lament. "With…"

Of all the nouns available to her, Hikari went for something that not only spoke truth, but also highlighted the emotional investment Veemon had placed in _that man_. "A good friend." Tailmon balled her small paws upon hearing it. _Good friend_, she repeated in a manner that expressed disgust. _Don't make me laugh!_

Thanks to _that man_, Veemon was going through a period of change. For better or for worse, she'd only realize through the eagle eyes of hindsight. But if there was something Tailmon would never forget, it was the ghastly, lifelelss stare Veemon's big, red eyes adopted and the melancholy he constantly exuded, replying to external stimuli with fierce glares and nothing more.

It was as if he blamed the world for bringing about the circumstances that now dominated modern society, as if he blamed **himself** for being too trusting, too gullible to perceive the lies and duplicity permeating the realm of adulthood. Tailmon's balled paws quaked.

How dare he?

Using him like a tool to manipulate? Discarding him as if he was worthless? Exploiting the remnants of his innocence and naivete?

And for what, his own selfish mission? For an effing **rock**? It was wrong to just _use_ one's friends and throw them away! _IT'S WRONG!_

Since meeting her beloved Hikari, Tailmon had lived and worked in an environment of solidarity, fidelity, and teamwork, where no one—**NO ONE**—was left behind or discarded.

If there was something the Twelve could be proud of as a group, it would be the fact these values trickled down to every member of the Digidestined, to every tamer guided by them around the world.

What _that man_ did spread excrement on those core values, spitting on them, defiling them, as if they were nothing. How couldn't he feel an ounce of regret from the way Veemon pleaded to retract his words, to affirm their friendship? Did he even realize the blue dragon relied on him as an anchor, as a buoy to hold onto, when he couldn't find his partner? When he learned his best friend (i.e. Tailmon's significant other) was dead? When human society had changed so drastically? When everything was crumbling down before his eyes?

Tailmon suppressed a snarl. Veemon was her best friend and what _that man_ did was unforgivable. The blue dragon wasn't likely to move on from the psychological trauma, not for the next few hours. Not for days. For that reason, and for that reason alone, Tailmon swore she would give _that man_ a vicious beating the next time she saw him until he either died or she was somehow stopped.

Hikari never noticed the anger consuming her digital half, as she had been trying to describe Veemon's companion. "Someone he trusted," she depicted. "Someone he liked very much. The first **real**"—the Chosen Child stressed—"human friend he made since Daisuke left him in the Digital World."

Her face darkened. The sad form her lips had taken twisted into a frown. "But… that man… refused to accompany us in this mission. Veemon was practically begging him to reconsider and," she sighed, pausing.

Hesitating.

Tailmon could barely imagine what she was going through. Recounting the events behind the dissolution of the friendship between Veemon and _that man_ inadvertently evoked the memories of the night before. Earlier, before the meeting in the War Room, Hikari disclosed her brief meeting with Taichi before he left for Shinjuku, having caught him stealing Daisuke's—his—goggles from the memorial.

However, she obviously omitted certain bits and pieces of information. Despite Tailmon's prodding, Hikari had chosen to take these secrets to the grave, the very secrets that threatened to break her once again as she told the story.

But… she hadn't said a single thing since the last sentence. Hikari was silent, the riceball idle in her hands. "Hikari," Tailmon squeezed the Child of Light's clothed hand out of concern. This time, she did not respond.

Tailmon shook the flaccid hand. "Hikari…"

A few more seconds passed. "Snap out of it, Hikari!"

The ejaculation was enough to rattle her. The lady Yagami blinked, regaining her senses. Her subsequent display of emotion was one of embarrassment. Understandable, having spaced out in the middle of her narration. "Sorry," Hikari provided a meek apology. "I didn't mean to—

"It's alright," Mayumi consoled, giving the Chosen Child a hug. Even though she was 21 years of age, Hikari didn't mind. Not a bit. She gave in, responding with a hug of her own. "You don't have to continue."

Janyu remained seated, opting to shake his head. A gesture of disappointment? A gesture of sympathy? Or a mixture of both?

"Betrayal," Janyu deduced. "No wonder he's cross."

Jianliang spat, "That **doesn't** give him an excuse to be terse," recalling the rude exclamation the Chosen directed to his own father minutes ago.

"JIANLIAAAAAAAAANNNGG!" Terriermon's voice rang in the air, fast approaching.

All heads turned towards the corridor, leading to the rest of the house. The tiny digimon that was Jianliang's partner was seen sprinting towards the group with all his might. Tailmon would've found the sight comical had she failed to discern the tears streaming out of his eyes, the sadness exuding from the Child level, and the helplessness detectable in Terriermon's voice.

Jianliang started towards his partner, only for the latter to make a powerful leap with one flap of his excessively long—and wide—ears. The cream-colored digimon instantly buried Jianliang's face in his bosom. Terriermon buried his face in the teen's dark blue hair and nuzzled the scalp as he cried. "Jianliang! He was so mean!"

"Huh?"

"He kept on saying nasty things!"

"Nasty things?" repeated Jianliang.

He blathered, "Yeah! Like you abandoning me, kicking me out, or, or-or, or—

"Terriermon! I'll **never** do that to you."

The small, terrier-like creature ceased his cries and regarded Jianliang with a sniffle. "R-really?" he asked.

"Really." The consolation was smooth. Terriermon's tamer never once lost his composure.

"Really, really?" pressed the digimon. Tailmon's eye twitched. _If he asks again..._

Jianliang pulled the tiny body away from his face and, staring into the black, beady eyes, wiped off the tears with his handkerchief. "As you always say, Terriermon, 无问题!"

The teenager rolled his eyes the moment Hikari opened her mouth in response to the foreign language. He had been expecting it since their arrival. "What did you say?" she asked, curious, trying to verbalize the syllables. "Mo… men… tai?"

An appeased Terriermon whirled around to look at the Child of Light, unintentionally striking Jianliang with his humongous ears ("Watch where you turn!" he hissed.)

"Sorry," sheepishly apologized the white digimon before returning his attention to the younger Yagami. "Yep, that's right! 无问题! It's Cantonese," he expounded, chirping as if all the distress had melted.

"And what does—

He smirked. "It means 'reelaaaax, no worries, take it easy'!"

"Like _hakuna matata_, huh?" grinned the young lady.

Ignorant to this adorable scene, Tailmon excused herself from the table. "**THAT'S IT**!" she snarled, her striped tail as rigid as her anger. "He and I need to talk!"

Had Hikari watched her exit, she might have seen the Holy Ring clipped on her tail shine an ominous glow for one moment. In fact, she _would_ have accompanied her digital half, preventing Tailmon from getting herself lost finding Veemon's assigned room.

Unfortunately, neither Janyu nor Jianliang wanted her to leave. The last thing Tailmon's ears deciphered was the programmer's inquiry on her "mission plan". Tunnel vision filtered everything out of the white cat's hearing, maintaining her determination to have a one-on-one with that sickeningly emotional dragon.

* * *

Everything about the room filled him with nostalgia.

The shelves lined with toys and dolls.

The tidied bed lying on the corner, neglected, though big enough for a four-foot, ten-year old.

A few sheets of paper were strewn on the carpeting, some depicting scribbles. Others, unfinished drawings. One even had a drawing of Terriermon, a russet version of him, and surprisingly, Veemon himself, with arms slung across each other's shoulders. It was a crude drawing, clearly speaking for the artist's novice skills at the time.

He looked around, finding discarded textbooks for elementary math, books of children's stories from both Japan and abroad.

Heaving a sad sigh, Veemon sauntered to the window next to the bed and opened the blinds. If he hoped to see the sky and the blinking sparkles of the stars, he would be sorely disappointed. Cumulonimbus clouds concealed the moon and the stat-spangled atmosphere, inundating the Tetsugakudo area with icy waters.

The Chosen took his seat on the bed and buried his face in his hands. Ears drooped, tail flaccid, and hunched back, Veemon epitomized the word cogitation.

Everything within this room invoked a sense of familiarity.

Of poignant, bittersweet nostalgia.

How long has it been since he had seen a Daisuke Motomiya who was worried more about grades, cram school, and "getting it on with Hikari"? A family who, though never treated him as anything higher than a talking pet, still entertained his playful whims and ravenous appetite despite the dents he made on the family budget?

How long has it been since he played a friendly match of football with his dearest friends?

Indeed, how long has it been since people of his kind—of his race—were widely accepted in public, and looked up to as role models for many to emulate?

The nostalgia that gripped the Chosen was rooted in the past rather than the room, founded in the hope and joys present in his ignorant bliss. Founded in the petty problems and the sheer simplicity of their solutions.

Whenever Daisuke was depressed, the Digimon of Miracles had been there to help him cope. If affection and the fact he'd have Veemon—rather, Chibimon—for the rest of his life didn't work, licking the Chosen Child's face 'til it dripped with his own slobber would.

Whenever a digimon terrorized the metropolis, the solution was to rush out, evolve, fight, and then celebrate. There was no need for extensive ruminations on far-reaching consequences beyond short-term salvation.

Whenever Veemon was bored, he'd play to while the time away, even with the other members of the family. It didn't matter if they weren't close.

He even thought of Patamon. That hamster was so nervous whenever a confession was discussed—the best solution was a nudge forward and cheerful encouragement… and perhaps Takeru's help if _those_ didn't work.

Now... ten years older and ten years wiser, Veemon couldn't help but reflect on how—why—things had come to this. Why did the world deviate from their expectations? From their goals? Why were the problems so effing complex the "right solution" was never as right as it seemed? Since when were the concepts of "good" and "evil" so hazy? So blurred?

Why did Taichi and Hikari run away from home? Why did Ken Ichijouji take on the mantle of control once again? Why was Daisuke so confident leaving him in the Digital World was all for the better? Yes, why were the Chosen Children making decisions so hard it would burrow deep into their hearts?

Life transformed from a world of wonder and joy to a cruel and hostile environment that would surprise one with every step, that would kill without prior notice.

Even friendship, the most innocent, prevalent, and comforting fact of life, was not spared by this grotesque transmogrification. Otherwise, Christopher would be with him at that moment, and right now the two of them might even be sitting at the dining room, sharing the midnight snack (whatever it was) and, with Hikari and Tailmon, planning their infiltration and rescue.

Having thought about the food, the Digimon of Miracles had an inkling he should stop sulking like a depressed child and start eating.

A shame he didn't feel like it.

After he was abandoned by Daisuke...

Ignored by his fellow Chosen…

Hardened by war...

Debased for his ideals…

Stupefied at the state of the world…

And trusted someone he thought was a great friend, only to be deceived and discarded…

After enduring all the agony these past three years—and this past week _especially_—have shoved to his shoulders, everything seemed so… **pointless**. Never in his life had Veemon felt so, so lonely.

Perhaps despondent was a better adjective.

_Disillusioned_, propounded his thoughts.

His ears caught the mechanical sound of the doorknob, clicking and shifting as it made its 270° turn. Expectant eyes glanced up towards the door to his right, bearing witness to what he would've found highly amusing as Chibimon, or his younger self: Terriermon hanging from the doorknob like his life depended on it, swinging the door in a widening creak using the kinetic energy borne from his weight.

"Veemon?" accosted the terrier's voice. "The food's ready," he piped. Whether Terriermon disregarded his emotional state or failed to see it, the dragon couldn't tell the difference. "It's mom's specialty: homemade _onigiri_!" He bounced on the carpet. "You'll never have another one like it, I promise you!"

The only response he received from the Chosen was a passing glance and a faked smile that could only be interpreted as miserable. "I'll be there," the dragon lied—wow, so **now** he was lying? Since when could he fib like this so casually?—intending on warding off the white digimon and his oversized ears. "Give or take fifteen minutes."

In a manner that eerily reminded Veemon of himself, Terriermon's childish demeanor concealed his abilities of observation. Unfortunately, his manners of addressing anything requiring delicate care and prudence was as blunt as the dragon's own. "You're just staying here, aren't you?"

That Terriermon saw through his feint so easily didn't faze the blue dragon. Honestly, he couldn't even explain it to himself. Even so, there's no undoing the reality this white terrier monster penetrated his feeble attempt at deception and attacked. Veemon had no time to collect his thoughts.

He couldn't formulate a reply, either.

Terriermon stepped forward. A bold move. His first attempt to break the ice was a casual reference to the _Digimon Adventure _animé. "You know this already, but Xiaochun's a big fan of the TV show. A **really** big fan." His gaze shifted to the right, towards the shelves lined with toys.

Veemon followed it, discovering something he missed in his earlier scan of the room: _Digimon Adventure _and _Zero Two _merchandise. Plenty of them, populating the lower levels of the shelves. It was likely the darkness dominating the entire room concealed them from his sight, until someone pointed it out.

Many of the figurines—stuffed toys, tiny plush dolls, and the like—were of his friends. However, the largest stuffed toy was one of Chibimon. Life-sized, to boot. The creases present on the doll's fabric and its derelict state, apparent even from the bed and hidden in the shadows, confirmed this must have been that little girl's favorite.

"_You_ were her favorite," resumed Terriermon, turning his tiny head to look at the blue dragon in the eye. "Hehe, I can't count how many times she forced me to watch the show with her," A slight chuckle. "Ugh, I hated recordings," the suppressed murmur grumbled, sizzling in Veemon's ears.

This conversation was becoming awkward. Terriermon caught on to this gaucherie and pressed his point. "In the animé, you loved food. You were so cheerful. Bursting with energy!" His childish laughter emerged again, but it failed to dispel the seriousness of the conversation. Terriermon released a low whine. "Now the _real thing's _right in front of me! But you're so"—his tongue ceased its flapping, shaping itself in a grotesque attempt to find the right word—"You're so… **different**."

Veemon cringed. Disappointment was the last thing he thought he'd sense from the tiny Child-level before him. Yet that word carried it. He could _feel _it: in the tone, in the body language, even in its slow, accentuated enunciation.

While it was a common occurrence for fans of the animé—or _any fandom _for that matter—to undergo some sort of disillusion after meeting their favorite celebrities, Veemon still felt an innate obligation to explain himself.

Why he should do it and why he even _considered_ this instinctive duty were questions that darted out of comprehension's reach. Whether Terriermon was the right outlet for this proved to be just as elusive. The Chosen's scarlet eyes made eye contact with Terriermon's black for a transient moment before breaking off, unaccompanied by any elucidation from his snout.

To end this callow dialogue, Terriermon murmured that foreign phrase under his breath and gyrated, intending to leave.

That's when Veemon found himself talking. "How would you feel," he was compelled to say, "if your tamer abandoned you?"

Provoked by a single remark, the small digimon revolved to face the Digimon of Miracles and bare his teeth. "Jianliang will **NEVER** do that! HE—

"He loves you?" Veemon proffered. "He won't leave you alone, no matter what?" He got on his feet and ambled to Terriermon, standing over him by a foot at least. The Chosen glared angrily at the white critter, and for the remainder of the conversation the horns on Terriermon's forehead and Veemon's muzzle were aligned. "Through thick and thin? Trouble and peace?

"You really think he'll stick by you when every human wants him dead? When they want **you** '_domesticated_'?" How he despised that term! Veemon only heard that ex-Modifier Tina use it once, and he grew to hate it ever since.

"Yes!" clamored Terriermon, his bark stained with a defiant anger and full loyalty.

"Hahahahahaha!" assailed Veemon's amused, condescending titters. "If someone asked me that **three years ago**, I would've said the EXACT SAME THING!

"Don't you even know how **ADULTS **_really_ think?" His rants were relentless. Unforgiving. Trampling upon the lone possession of Terriermon: the pride and joy of innocence, that blind fidelity to his partner—to his human half—his surrogate brother. Veemon knew it would break the naïve Terriermon and send him away crying with ears flapping behind his back, running to his tamer.

But it felt good. Releasing all the pent-up frustrations building up in him felt **REALLY GOOD**. Every time he looked at Terriermon, he saw _himself_. His innocent, naïve self who believed all problems had simple solutions, who believed morality was a slate of black and white…

Who believed friends would never betray friends!

"Daisuke's family saw me as a **pet**! **ALWAYS!** I bet the same goes for _your _family. Except your 'Jianliang' and that sister of his, they'll never"—he just had to emphasize it—"**NEEEEVVVEERRRR**, see you as an equal! To them you're just another immature kid to feed."

As he anticipated, the stinging words shook the terrier digimon. Veemon was not yet finished. "So Jianliang won't leave you alone still, right? What if he did it **to protect you**?"

Terriermon sniffed. "He, h-he, won't. I, I know he won't," whimpered his weak protests. "He'll nev—

"He **WILL**," asserted Veemon, cutting him off. His high, child-like voice boomed, colored by a jaded maturity found only in the most cynical of men, "as a last resort."

His "opponent" shook his head, refusing to accept the reality awaiting him as an adult. "N, n-n, n-n-no! I-i-if he, if he ever did, I'll—I'll!"

Veemon no longer answered. He had nothing else to say. What came out of his snout was enough. He turned away and set himself down on the bed, red eyes gazing at the cloudy sky. When was it going to stop raining?

Nothing distracted the dragon from his isolated self-reflection, not even the scurrying of tiny feet and Terriermon's shrill scream for his "beloved" partner. _Veemon_, he chastened himself, _what did you get yourself into now?_ For all he knew, Tailmon was probably stomping to this room at that very moment. She'd kick the door open within the next five minutes and give him one hell of a scolding for yelling at an innocent kid.

If it wasn't for the tense situation and the pangs of shame and anger still churning within the blue dragon, he would've been amused this was **exactly** what happened after sixty seconds.

* * *

Tina Fujieda was trapped.

"A-and," she coughed as she answered, hoping Chris would at least have the compassion to loosen his monstrous grip. "What'll you do when you have your answers?"

She didn't like his diabolic grin."Isn't it obvious?" he laughed, his chortles only serving to increase Tina's anxiety, to amplify the heartbeats pounding her head. "I'll attack the place **immediately**!"

"W, wha, what about the security?" she stammered.

Christopher Van Numen shrugged. "Anyone who gets in my way **dies**."

Fear's hold on the ex-Modifier strengthened. Truth be told, she didn't know **what** to be afraid of! She knew what this man—this _demon_—was capable of. Bullets wouldn't hurt him, modified or not. Explosives dealt negligible damage. One punch from Chris could _literally_ turn someone's insides into paste.

The DSI's R&D facilities underneath Odaiba—indeed, underneath Tokyo Bay itself—was tightly secured, guarded more stringently than M&A in Shinjuku, for reasons that made common sense. R&D was where all the technological innovations made in pursuit of mastering the Digital World and its bizarre laws of physics, each capable of coexisting with the laws of the Real World… to an extent, at least.

Combining the two would result in a phenomenal evolution of mankind's dominion over nature. Though Tina was too stressed to think of this now, over the next couple of weeks, she would find herself speculating over the true costs of advancement, now that she was aware of the similarities between digimon and humanity through her experiences with "free-thinking" digimon like Lalamon and Veemon.

Would Man lose what defined Man through innovation and mastery over nature?

Such thoughts were absent from her in present time, directed instead at the throngs of soldiers, veterans and novices alike, idling in designated locations within R&D, ready to meet any intruder with deadly force upon deployment. They numbered hundreds, far below the figures populating M&A, but that didn't mean they weren't as dangerous and as determined to repel any invader.

Tina didn't know what in God's name Christopher was after in there. The blond's firearm was her only hint, powered by dark matter like the guns that were issued for the Midnight Assault, relying on extremely advanced technology, enough to eliminate the need for cooldowns, enough to fire a constant stream of green energy so long as the shooter could keep up.

The perfect weapon.

That's when it hit her.

Were the dark matter rifles borne from _his_ technology to begin with? How did the DSI even get their hands on it in the first place?

"D-dammit," Tina cursed. Now that she knew what this demon was after, it was obvious to her he had no intentions of surrendering the power of dark matter over to the Digital Suppression Initiative. He was going to destroy every last bit of research, probably taking whatever was its very source.

Dissuasion wasn't possible.

Nonetheless, the ex-Modifier appealed to ethics. "You're comfortable with genocide?"

No response. Not unless a frightening glower was considered one.

_A different approach, then. _"What would Veemon say if he found out?"

Christopher's form did not move from the mere mention of Veemon's name. Any outsider watching this unfold would conclude the man as cold and heartless—Tina knew better. Being so close to him, subjected to this humiliating interrogation, she saw the goldenrod eyes dilate.

She hit a weak spot. Hope was inflating her; she could get out of this ali—

CRACK!

A foreboding snap resounded through the air, shattering the "intimate silence" of the night. Both Christopher and Tina turned to the source, to what remained of her front door. The former soldier paled—one of her neighbors, a young professional full of life and ambition for the future, had been peeking in, stirred from sleep by the boisterous thunder that slammed the wooden panel, and driven by concern upon hearing the malicious overtones of Christopher's every breath.

He may have been the only one impelled by a selfless concern for others' welfare, but for all Tina knew, other people could be right beside him, or hidden in their homes, listening to the drama unfold.

She palpitated. Did anyone call the police? Tina prayed they didn't.

Christopher wanted to ensure they never did. "I don't know how many are listening in but," he announced. "IF ANYONE CALLS FOR HELP, **I'LL SEE TO IT THIS BUILDING IS WIPED FROM EXISTENCE IN AN HOUR!**"

To assure nobody doubted his words, nobody dared to be skeptical of his threat, the blond whipped out the silver gun on his free hand. One pull on the trigger and the apartment was filled with a shrill whine.

A blast of celadon light flew from the barrel to the concrete railing in the open corridor. A round hole the size of a large tennis ball appeared at the point of impact. So clean and smooth was the damage it was like an artist rubbed an eraser on it until it vanished in less than a second.

Neither Tina nor Christopher saw the eavesdropper. Hearing his frightened shrieks and the rapid scampering of his flip-flops was enough to apprise them of his retreat…

Of course, the blond returned his attention to Tina Fujieda. His grip solidified. Tina gasped and choked; some spit actually landed on Christopher's face—he made no attempt on wiping it off, not when he was after something so important. "No more delays, Fujieda," he scowled. "**Where **is R&D?"

"A-ack!" she coughed. "W, well," Tina spluttered, "I could ask you the same thing: where… is… Veemon?"

The demon flinched. Although he maintained his hostile glare, Chris's monstrous grip eased, allowing the redhead, for a second, to breathe—to continue her assault. "You and I _know _he won't approve all"—her purple eyes scanned the room, taking note of the wooden shards that were once her door, the wind howling in the living room, scattering the sheets of yellow paper that were on the glass table situated between the leather sofa and the LCD TV—"**THIS**!"

Tina felt his clasp tighten. Chris's hand was shaking—he wanted to snap her neck, to kill her and be done with it, but something was stopping him. It was probably his self-restraint, insisting he refrain from such actions until he withdrew something from her head. The ex-Modifier hoped it was his conscience instead.

This was the best she could do in the Chosen's absence. "A, aren't you two buddies?" she choked, struggling to breathe—to speak! Some spit actually landed on Chris's face but neither did he bat an eye or attempted to wipe it off. Either he acclimated to something so disgusting being applied on his face intermittently _or_ he was too focused on his task to even care. Tina rambled on, "You two were _always_ together, s-s, so—ack!—why isn't he with you right—URK!"

Christopher silenced her tongue, his hand tightening to the point all Tina could do was let her respiratory system work, her purple eyes delivering his chilling glare to her vision. The ex-Modifier found the man's weak point and exploited it, for all the good it did for her.

"That **lizard** no longer concerns me," he proclaimed, willingly throwing around the derogatory insult Tina heard only from Aldo's mouth. "He's got nothing to do with my mission—he's just a distraction. That's all he ever was."

The blond claimed he no longer held any care for the Digimon of Miracles. If that was so, why was their a strong emission of rage in that sentence? Why did the hand that rendered her mute shake so violently? Surely it had nothing to do with his self-restraint or his immutable anger. Tina summoned the audacity to look into Christopher's goldenrod orbs, allegedly shimmering with malice and vexation. All she saw instead was a lustrous sheen, a quality more associable to sadness than rancor.

It took all of Christopher's willpower to cast his evil gaze upon her and act so wickedly without heeding the potential consequences. The fact he could perform the vile acts meant he had done so before in the past, probably driven to desperation before executing it. Still, that never meant he was immune to the psychological trauma his conscience was forced to endure.

Tina Fujieda was incapable of supplying the blond devil with an apposite rejoinder, but for some reason, he opted to speak, to elaborate and expound instead of discarding the topic completely when he could've done so from the very beginning. "I h, _hate_ him. That dra—lizard taunted—tempted—me to a path I _always _regret taking."

Talking about it slackened Chris's hold on her neck, allowing her to retort. "Is 'your mission' _that_ important?"

"YES!" The blond roared, deafening her, inundating her left ear with temporary static. "I must sacrifice **everything** for it!"

Perhaps that was all Christopher needed: an outlet to expel his issues, to voice his frustrations. He was like a little kid expressing his bitterness to the world.

As long as he kept talking, as long as he forgot what he drilled Tina for, there was hope for a peaceful resolution, devoid of bloodshed. Thinking of Yoshino and Lalamon worried her. The last thing she wanted was for them to burst from that door and provoke Christopher into a fight. In his emotional state, she knew he would kill a child without a second thought.

* * *

"VEEMON!"

The Digimon of Light faced the Digimon of Miracles. Her cerulean eyes gazed into his scarlet pools.

"I can't believe you!" Tailmon censured her fellow Chosen. "Terriermon just wanted you to eat with us and you **yelled **at him? You know he isn't as old as us!"

She expected the blue dragon to retaliate with a snappy remark and spark a verbal confrontation between the two of them. It was a miracle Veemon suppressed his natural urge to interrupt the white cat mid-speech and allowed her to rant. "You're **TEN**! You're one of the Chosen! We're supposed to be the most mature digimon in the Real World and you just _had _to take it out on a kid!

Tailmon shook her head, and sauntered to the Digimon of Miracles, every footstep burdened with weight. The white cat was prepared to resume her reprimands and bless his white snout with a good slap of her paw when she noticed the gloom and regret in Veemon's eyes.

The Digimon of Light paused and examined the blue dragon for a second time. Compunction wasn't merely sitting in his eyes. It was also manifest in his posture—in the way he carried himself and allowed Tailmon to lecture him like a rabid mother cat.

She brought a palm to her face and scratched her furry head. What's the use? Veemon committed a grave mistake, shouting at a young digimon, but he was compelled to do so by so many fronts. Disappointment and betrayal were only the tip of the iceberg. Tailmon was certain of it.

"Veemon…" her voice trailed, murmuring his name in a softer, gentler tone. "You weren't like this three years ago." Her big ears wilted. She couldn't stand to see her best friend like this. He had changed.

He had completely changed.

_What would you do, Patamon? _Tailmon sent her prayer to the spirit of her dearest, wherever it resided. Then she took her seat on the small bed beside the blue dragon. She did not leave him.

Tailmon's paw went over Veemon's hand and clasped it tight. It would be easy to mistake them for a couple. "What happened to you…" she mumbled, her forlorn enquiry audible to both speaker and listener.

The answer she received was a passing glance, unknowingly the same, lifeless stare Veemon gave Terriermon a few minutes ago. Beyond this, silence reigned supreme.

Minutes passed.

The minutes felt like hours.

During all that time, holding Veemon's hand was awkward. By now the dragon digimon should have responded. Opened up to her. The silence rattled Tailmon to no end, yet she forced her hand still, refusing to relinquish the blue hand, refusing to give up on the Chosen, no matter how long it took for him to respond.

It didn't occur to the Digimon of Light the roles had reversed. Like Veemon entreating for Christopher's reconsideration, Tailmon pleaded for the dragon's recovery. The circumstances were so similar it was uncanny.

Approximately twenty minutes elapsed when Tailmon realized the futility of this exercise. Veemon wasn't going to let her in. He wasn't going to let anyone else in. The white cat exhaled in defeat. She proceeded to hug her best friend and pat his back. "Just remember Veemon, you still have us."

She released his hand and rose from the bed, stretching her muscles for a few moments. "You still have me," flashing a small smile.

Only when she was in the process of leaving did Tailmon hear a child-like voice break the wall of silence isolating the dragon from the cruel world.

"Jealous."

Tailmon stopped and looked back, her eyes focused on Veemon.

"Ken and Wormmon. Iori and Armadimon." His fists clenched. "Koushirou and Tentomon." He shut his eyes tightly, scrunching his cute muzzle. "Joe and Gomamon. I was jealous of them."

She came closer. "You missed Daisuke, didn't you?"

"He wouldn't be my partner if I didn't!" Veemon couldn't look straight at Tailmon. Uncomfortable as it was to be under her piercing gaze, the blue dragon moved from his seat and sauntered to the shelves of toys.

"Having someone stand by me no matter what," he recited, pulling out a life-sized doll of Chibimon—himself—from the shelves. "Acknowledging me." Veemon slapped the dust off the soft plushie and retreated to the bed. "Playing with me."

"Being the best friend I could have." Then he hugged the stuffed toy, sniffling as he did so. Tailmon noticed some teardrops falling from his eyes. "And me doing the exact same thing." He wiped them off. "I, I miss it, Tailmon."

Another whimper. "**All** of it."

Tailmon empathized with him. If Hikari had left her in the Digital World like that, she wouldn't know what to do with herself. Would she despair like him? Would she blame Hikari for making such a hard decision?

Even _she_ knew, deep in her mind, that abandoning one's digimon partner was comparable to betraying the very partnership that bound them. They were supposed to be together, to be bound for life, to protect each other and be there for each other no matter what problems and tribulations life threw at them. Desertion for the sake of protection went against the spirit of this unseen contract.

It was an egregrious cop out, nothing else. Wouldn't it be hypocritical for someone to think one could protect the digimon partner by leaving them alone somewhere and **still** call it a partnership?

Tailmon certainly thought so.

Everyone privy to his actions criticized Daisuke for it. Naturally, his innate stubbornness followed through in the end, unwilling to yield to the demands to retrieve Veemon from wherever he was in the Digital World. He employed a firm belief in his choices to the very end.

Adults _truly_ thought differently than children. Perhaps that was why the Harmonious Ones—the Order—the Digital World itself worked with kids, molding humans in their most malleable state.

Veemon kept talking, slowly but surely. "Daisuke promised he'd come back for me, Tailmon." His voice still shook, threatening to dissolve into sobs. "I hung on to that promise for a long time." He sniffled. "And you know, because of the war, because humans wanted to… to _enslave _digimon like the Kaiser, all digimon started… **h-hating** humans. All except the Chosen. Except our friends.

"They mocked me for believing in Daisuke. Told me he played me for a fool—left me on File Island just to get rid of me." More tears fell. "T-they said Daisuke's friends didn't care about me, 'cause they were TOO BUSY for me!" He whimpered. "Those three, y-years were, s-s, were so long, I eventually thought—I eventually thought… Daisuke r-really, r-r-really a-a-**abandoned** me!"

Tailmon understood why Veemon felt so close to _that man_. Why the turmoil crushed him flat. Sheer desperation and loneliness fueled the initial stages of the relationship. In his position, it must have been developing into a beautiful friendship when the proverbial wool was lifted from his eyes without warning.

_Only a sick person would exploit someone like that_. Now Tailmon had a second reason to torture that heartless bastard.

There was still a lingering question in Tailmon's head, one that continued to baffle the white cat _and_ the Chosen Children. Voicing it as her own, "But why **did** Daisuke leave you there?"

Veemon used the Chibimon doll to wipe the saltwater off his snout. He didn't notice the hole his nose-horn created on the fabric. The blue dragon emitted a foreboding laugh. "You won't understand. Daisuke… has a 'unique way' of solving problems."

"Vee—

"Daisuke **always** puts his friends first. His loved ones first." His gaze was fixed on Tailmon, looking pensive and sentimental. "And I came right on top, Tailmon. Even when he had to consider the safety of his family, he didn't forget me. He **never** forgot me.

The edges of his lips drew a sad smile. "Did you know, Tailmon? A few weeks before he left me in the Digital World, he… h-he, had a fight with his dad." He paused. "About **me**."

Veemon turned away, deliberately avoiding eye contact. "I overheard them. They were scared—people broke into our house and vandalized the walls. Mr. and Mrs. Motomiya kept receiving death threats. Daisuke and Jun were always getting into fights with our neighbors." He looked at her again. "**Because of me**."

Tailmon could relate. Veemon had been left behind in the Digital World three and a half years ago, on the day the Ishida and Takaishi families were wiped out, on the day she, along with Agumon, Piyomon, and their partners, encountered armed extremists outside the home where Hiroaki and Natsuko's remarriage were being celebrated. Attempts had been made to stop them, but in the end, they won.

Some victory it turned out to be.

Hikari and Sora almost died. Takeru, Yamato, and their families were blown apart along with the house, with corpses either charred beyond recognition or destroyed so completely their ashes had become one with the ruins of the house itself.

The only good they managed to achieve that night was one death on the enemy side. That, and Tailmon's first-hand account of those responsible. Or at least, two of them. One had been a red-haired man with a conceited smug that looked like it was literally painted on his face with paint. The other had been a young lady—probably in her early 20s—whose defining feature was her unnatural yellow hair and a deep hatred for the Chosen Children.

She never forgot their faces. She never forgot their first names, either. Lucy and Albert. Those were two people she wouldn't hesitate to slaughter unceremoniously like the heartless animals they probably were.

This war was a product of speciesism. Discrimination. The conceited fire of human superiority.

The Motomiyas' predicament had its roots here as well, it seemed. _It must've been quite an ordeal for his family._

"Daisuke **always** defended me," Veemon retold. "But… I think he was scared someone might try to shoot me." He looked at the white cat. "You know we can't just hurt people…"

Tailmon stared at the dragon as if he was delirious. Daisuke Motomiya? Scared? Incredulous and anxious, maybe, but scared? That word could **never** be set in the same sentence as that Chosen Child's name!

Veemon laughed. It wasn't like the childish giggles she used to hear in the past, not like the playful banter her purple-tipped ears heard before _that man_ broke him down. The emotions each chortle emanated spooked the Digimon of Light. "He never told you guys, didn't he? How he felt about Miyako dying in that protest six years ago?"

That had been a sad day for the Twelve. Miyako's assassination sowed grief and horror in the their ranks and _heralded _the downward spiral that eventually led to the war that had been consuming the two worlds at present. Daisuke had been shaken by her death? She didn't know this! "W-what do you mean?"

When Veemon looked at her, he had the eyes of someone who wanted to answer the question, but was prevented from doing so. Something bound him from replying, and Tailmon guessed it: a promise between partners. Made more irrevocable now that the man was absent.

Tailmon did not say a single word in response, sympathizing with his position, understanding there were some things so sacred between the partners they shouldn't—mustn't—be disclosed to anyone else.

"I was," The blue dragon took her silence as a cue to move on. "I was ready to die when I met Chris."

Hearing _that man_'s name made her fur bristle. She hid this from his sight, hoping the darkness would conceal it.

"Then we became friends." Her agitation eluded him as he proceeded, "We shared some good times. We had great teamwork—and get this: he risked his life **when we barely knew each other**! Many times!" Accentuating the significance of that last clause, "You remember how long it took Daisuke to develop that kind of resolve."

A reference to the time they wrestled MetalGreymon away from a possessed Ichijouji's clutches.

He clenched his fists, slamming them on the mattress. "What I just _can't_ figure out is, WHY?"

Veemon's childlike voice cracked. His crimson eyes were filled with water. "**WHY?** Friends put each other first, right?" He looked at her, seeking confirmation. Tailmon found difficulty in maintaining her concerned stare. "Right, Tailmon? You don't just, pursue your own goals and screw your friends over! If Christopher really played with me like a sap, he would **never** risk his life for me! But he didn't. He—MMF!"

He was so busy ranting he never noticed Tailmon closing the distance between them and muffling his mouth with her paw. "STOP," she ordered. Her azure eyes bore into the dragon's, only to aim down as the Digimon of Light realized what she was about to say. "I'm—I'm sorry, Veemon, but…"

She took a deep breath. "What you're saying"—she bit her lip. Tailmon knew the Digimon of Miracles would take offense from this. But it was her duty as a friend to inform him of the mistake he was too blind to discern.—"sounds like you **WERE** substituting him for Daisuke." _I'll never refer to _that man _by name._

Tailmon brought her eyes up, just in time to see Veemon's pupils shrink in astonishment. He was stunned. Confounded! He regained his senses and slapped her furry paw away. "How could you say that?" shrieked the appalled voice. "Tailmon, Chris could **never** replace Daisuke! Daisuke's my brother. My family! My partner!"

"No!" He shook his head, raising his palms in a defensive stance, whining. "Noooooooo. There's nooooooooo way I could swap Dai—

That's when the door behind Tailmon creaked open, and a third voice intruded into the conversation. A sweet, compassionate cheep she knew belonged only to the Chosen Child of Light. "Maybe as your partner, Veemon, or family..."

Hikari Yagami walked in, setting a tray of leftover _onigiri_ and a bottle of beer on a stand next to the door. Her mouth opened, battering the depressed digimon with a truth he failed to perceive.

"...But not as your friend."

* * *

"What could be so important that it overrides the need for friends?" posed the ex-Modifier, welcoming Chris into her trap. "You're an effing monster, but you're more 'human' whenever you're with Veemon."

Once he fell into the unseen pit in their discourse, Christopher should feel more inclined to resolving this verbally, to facing his problems head-on instead of running from them like a coward, diverting himself to what he erroneously thought important to warrant the utter disintegration of proper ethics.

The blond's smile indicated he took the bait. She was unprepared for the revelation that subsequently spewed from his tongue. "You're only half-right. I was _once_ human." He leered. His sneer widened. "You should be in awe—I live a life known only in fantasy! I'm a fugitive _from another universe_, stripped of my former glory, fleeing from enemies of unknown origins, unknown objectives, and unknown numbers."

He threw her down to the couch and _pinned_ her down using only a single hand on her shoulder. Tina's throat may have welcomed the respite; the same pressure being forced down on her arm compelled the woman to scream, but she restrained herself. She wasn't going to give in, clinging to the hope that Christopher fell into her trap.

As it was, he plummeted deep in her ruse.

Or so she thought. "I am sick and tired of running from one realm to another. I swore I **would** alter my fate, no matter what I had to do." He leaned closer. Chris could've kissed her passionately if he wished it."The æther rifles you used last week are crucial—whatever gave you the technology could—no, it _would_—be instrumental in my journey. I can't just abandon my mission.

A gleam of triumph sparkled in the blond's goldenrod eyes. "Besides, humanity isn't ready for this technology." He cackled, instantly turning the tables on the ex-Modifier. "Letting you all keep it **bothers my conscience**."

_Goddammit! He fell into my trap __**on purpose**__!_

"So y-you'd commit genocide," Tina summarized, "for your mission? **Murder** hundreds of people to keep us from exploiting dark ma"—she corrected herself. Dark matter was a convention utilized in human science. This man operated on other jargon—"Æther?"

"Have you ever heard of John Stuart Mill?"

"Who?"

"I'm a utilitarian. Everything I do—everything I've done—was **only** forthe greater good of the greater number."

He threw away his friends, he intended on assaulting R&D with blatant disregard for the deaths, all for the sake of "the greater good"? And what did he say he was? A being from another universe? As in, another _dimension_? The revelations bewildered her, leaving only stupor in their wake.

Christopher called himself a "figure of fantasy". Was this man **insane**? His revelations were too surreal, too fantastic for her. Claiming to be some sort of human-like extraterrestrial was believable given his abilities and equipment, but an interdimensional being? What was he, a god?

NO!

Such proclamations were profane! Horribly profane!

This mysterious blond wasn't a god! He was an alien. A true monster. A deranged demon, lost to the throes of insanity!

"YOU'RE DELUSIONAL!" accused Tina Fujieda, no longer paralyzed in fear. Instead, animated with disbelief. "You're only trying to escape—give yourself a pat on the back! You, a utilitarian? That's just **bullsh*t**!

Christopher Van Numen frowned, but opted to do nothing except permit the woman's ranting, until she snapped his patience once and for all. "I don't know what you did but _everything_ you're doing now just shows **YOU MISS VEEMON SO MUCH **and you're taking out your regret and anger on—

She was cut off. He raised the ex-Modifier and slammed her body into the concrete wall.

"**DON'T F*CKING PSYCHOANALYZE ME!**"

"AAGGGHH!" A few ribs broke upon impact. She could _really_ use a Modifier's digivice now for that boost in natural healing.

A calloused hand cupped her bare thigh. Tina lowered her gaze, her sharp eyes and supple skin registering its clench, which tauted more and more until the fingers started tearing into her skin. "Unless you want to have your leg amputated right here, RIGHT NOW, you're telling me where R&D is!"

"HAAAAAA!" she exhaled and writhed, reeling from the immense pain Christopher was putting her through.

Just when things couldn't get any worse, the whole situation spiraled.

Police sirens hummed in the background, growing in a volume and intensity that could only corroborate their final destination.

An obscenity rushed to her head. People were going to die.

_Shit!_

PEOPLE WERE GOING TO DIE!

_Shit, shit, shit, __**SHIT**__!_

* * *

Veemon gawked at Tailmon's human half. Did she just say Daisuke was irreplaceable as family, but **not as a friend**? How could that be? Hasn't he been standing by the Child of Miracles' side since April 2002? Weren't they so close they were friends at the very apex of their relationship? Or even _beyond_ it?

What kind of logic was this? Daisuke? Interchangeable as far as friendship was concerned? Preposterous. Ridiculous.

It was so absurd.

"That's stupid!" Veemon snapped, barking at the Child of Light, snarling at her for the mere idea.

He wasn't going to lunge at the younger Yagami. He had no intentions to—but Tailmon set herself between Veemon and her human half, just in case, ready to defend her surrogate sister, even if she had to strike her best friend.

Hikari brushed past her eternal protector, gently pulling her back. She crept closer. "Things can change, you know."

Veemon inched back during her approach, putting his feet up on the bed. "Think about it," he listened, "if we never had to deal with this war…"

"D-don't say it…"

"If we lived normal lives after BelialVamdemon."

"Go away!"

"After Armagemon…"

Veemon felt the wall on his back. He was trapped. Nowhere left to run.

"What would've happened?" Hikari stopped in front of him, kneeling on one leg. Coquelicot met crimson.

The blue dragon's muzzle moved sidewards, biting its own lip. He couldn't speak. He couldn't reply.

Of course, the young lady supplied the answer for him. Her voice soothing and gentle. "We would've drifted apart. All twelve of us. Don't be so naïve to think our relationship with our partners wouldn't change."

Tailmon sustained her human half, carrying the attack farther. "Yeah, Veemon, what do you think would happen if Daisuke found a girlfriend?"

Veemon's head sagged when he heard the hypothetical question. He knew what would happen. Daisuke would start ignoring him. Shifting the focus, the center, of his attention _and_ affection from him to the female lucky enough to have it. Veemon, whether he was in his Baby or Child forms, would be excluded from whatever Daisuke did.

From **everything** he did.

It would've been him and that girl. Nobody else.

Even if Daisuke somehow incorporated Veemon—Chibimon—into his life again, the Chosen Child would never be exclusively his anymore.

The Digimon of Miracles didn't want to admit it but… he _was_ a bit possessive of his partner.

Perhaps _that_ was an understatement, considering how strongly he felt about the situation. Even if it _was_ a theoretical one.

"You have to accept it, Veemon." Hikari pierced his thoughts, catching him unawares. "Things will change. It **always** does."

That was the last time he acknowledged the Chosen Child's presence. Veemon found himself deep in thought, ruminating over the last three years of his life. Over the past week.

Hikari Yagami's sentence echoed in his cogitations. Everything **did** change.

Growing up in the tensions of politics and speciesism, Daisuke _had_ changed. He became more mature and considerate. He bore the weight of his family and friends. The way he expressed his ideals were altered, even though the central philosophy behind every single decision he made it on life went on untouched.

The decision to leave him in the Digital World amended the digimon's life from then on, and for the worse. It was only when Christopher came did he become happy again, filled with hope for the future. Moreover, the blond treated him the way a real friend would.

That's when it dawned on the blue dragon he had, on numerous occasions, not only spoke about Daisuke but did so in a manner that _compared_ Christopher to him.

That's when the truth hit its mark. Things had changed, indeed. Nothing could last before the power of time's passage.

"I guess," he shattered the still air, not knowing how to react to Hikari's and Tailmon's choice to stay with him until he responded, "you're right. You're both… right."

That's when his thoughts wandered to Christopher again. To that cavern underneath Mt. Fuji. Veemon's snout snapped open, his childlike voice revived and thriving. "But that doesn't justify what Chris did! It's like, it's like his priorities are so effed—

Tailmon's scowl pressured cessation on his talking. "Don't think about him anymore!" she screamed, her voice flowing through the walls boxing them in. "I hate _that man_! I HATE HIM!" She gnashed her teeth. "After what he did to you! After what he did to our friends!"

Veemon glimpsed Hikari's face turning into an angry stone. _What…?_ Her long, hazel hair blocked his view. The Child of Light turned to her digital half and nodded. When Tailmon reacted with one of her own, Hikari Yagami gazed back at him, her coquelicot eyes burning with righteous ferocity.

He felt Hikari's warm hands clutching his own. A rectangular machine familiar to his red eyes, gray, angled and boxy, reminding him of a first-generation Nintendo DS,.

Hikari's D-Terminal.

Veemon took it without question, but still sent a puzzled look at its owner. Why was she lending him her D-Terminal?

"Open it and read," she instructed. "Know his sins for yourself."

The younger Yagami mumbled, her voice almost inaudible. Veemon didn't catch any of it, but intuition was telling him it was an insult. A brusque flash of ire.

He ogled the tiny monitor. The message that presented itself had been sent from Miyako's D-Terminal. Of course, since the Chosen Child in question was dead to begin with, that could only mean her family—

Veemon gasped, incredulous at what transpired moments after he absconded the War Room.

.

.

_October 16, 2013_

_Hikari,_

_I didn't want to disrespect my younger sister by going through her things, but you and Veemon HAVE to know this. _

_It was so horrible! After you left, Christopher went mad! He brought this gun literally out of thin air and fired some scary green light to keep us from adjourning until we told him where R&D was._

_Renamon tried to stop him but he was so strong! None of her attacks worked on him and he moved, I swear on Miyako's grave, he moved like only a digimon can! I don't know how many times he punched her but OMFG in a blink of an eye she was down!_

_We wanted to stop all this but Mr. Izumi was so stubborn! He didn't want any of us to give in. You cannot imagine how terrified I was when that man started saying he could kill everyone in the base! And in fifteen minutes, he claimed!_

_I had no idea why he was doing this. I wanted Chris to stop, follow you guys, and just apologize to Veemon. He raised his gun at me! Hikari, I could've died! It's only thanks to Mr. Ichijouji I'm alive sending you this message on Miyako's D-Terminal._

…_but my life cost him dearly._

_Chris's retaliation was so bad Mr. Ichijouji's still critical in one of our ICU's. Many of his ribs are broken. Shoulder and elbow dislocated. And… the… the doctors taking care of him… they're amputating his left hand when he stabilizes. The wrist was crushed so much he can't use it any—_

.

.

A soft thump rose from the bed, but it may as well have been a hollow echo audible throughout the child's room.

The D-Terminal had fallen.

Because his two blue hands were shaking, drained of any strength to keep the machine steady in their grip.

Veemon shook his head in utter disbelief.

Because he couldn't stand reading anymore.

"N-no, this isn't—it can't—Chris wouldn't—

"You didn't read the entire thing, have you?" Tailmon growled, "_That man_ nearly shot Mr. Izumi! He even took Shuu **hostage** when he left!"

He recoiled at the words. Christopher… **nearly** shot Mr. Izumi? Having known the blond for a week, the only firearm he ever used was the gun that fired the green energy he called æther, the green energy that vaporized anything it came into contact with.

It was capable of immense destruction like nothing he's ever seen, and he pulled it out on a group of _unarmed_ people? On the family of his fellow Chosen? On Miyako's older brother?

He attacked Ken's dad and crippled him?

How could Christopher do such things? Manipulating him like a toy? Then trying to kill his friends? Veemon's mind entertained a numbing thought: would the blond have aimed the weapon at him too if **he** had stayed there and _pestered _him for his cooperation? Would he even fire?

Veemon shuddered, recalling the two times Christopher had him in his mercy: their first meeting at the Spire of Courage, and when he stopped him from killing a fallen Modifier.

Rumors of his cruelty and ruthlessness spread among the digimon after the Modifiers had been fended off and the Satellite Base saved. Veemon was privy to all the disgusting—and terrifying—appellations he had been blessed with behind his back.

He never believed hearsay. Only now when he had read Mantarou's message were these hushed whispers and murmurs flowing to his memory. Commandramon was always wary of him, even after Veemon had gotten the blond to contribute some old-fashioned manual labor to the Satellite Base's restoration.

In fact, now that he was perusing his recent past, the first time they saw the late Centarumon's forces plotting their scheme to usurp the advantage from the invading DSI soldiers, all the digimon _paled_ at Christopher's presence.

Was there truth to what they told him? He looked at Tailmon, perceiving the seething hatred bubbling in her sweet blue eyes. Was the blond so revolting an individual he would stoop so low to deceive others and impose an iron fist to get his way?

There was nothing in Veemon's memories that would've challenged these questions, now that they've all been proven to be lies mired in ulterior motives that had absolutely nothing to do with his welfare.

Nothing but one.

It was the only one that stood out.

_Last night…_ Christopher Van Numen's anguish was so striking it left behind an impression the Digimon of Miracles would **never** forget. The blond drowned in a despair he caught glimpses of on occasion since their first contact, and at the very end of it, he embraced Veemon with so much strength it couldn't have been fake...

"He doesn't care about you, Veemon," Hikari muttered, her own sadness audible. "This mail even proves—

Every vein in the Chosen's body pulsed with a refusal to accept the truth. "NO!" Veemon interrupted, _refusing_ to let her even say it. "I'm sure there's something else!" If only he knew how right he was.

Hikari's response was a look that **screamed pity**. "What makes you think—

"Last night, he hugged me," the quick answer was fired. "Never let me go in his sleep." His muzzle widened, the childlike voice becoming a desperate shout. "HE CLUNG TO ME LIKE I'M THE ONLY—

A vicious snarl reached his ears. Veemon's eyes dilated when they watched Tailmon spring forward, her front paw reared back. They knew what was coming, but the blue dragon was too stunned to even react.

Tailmon had given him a punch in the face. It wouldn't have been as bad if she had been a Child-level, but the white cat was in her full glory—corroborated by the shining ring clamped on her striped tail. Her punch not only hurt. It thrust Veemon into the bed.

Warm liquid stained his pure white muzzle red. A shallow scratch ran across his left cheek, inflicted by the diminutive Adult-level before him. It left him speechless.

Hikari's fluttering eyes indicated her desire to look away, nonetheless she maintained her gaze on the blue dragon. Sympathy continued to reside within her coquelicot spheres, concerned over how long this conversation has been going, and perhaps speculating on its impact on the mission they were undertaking that night.

Tailmon wasn't done yet, after all.

"When are you going to stop assigning meanings to irrelevant things, Veemon?" He had never seen her so angry and pained. "Why do you hold on so desperately to something **that never existed in the first place**?"

Veemon sat up, but that was all he ever did.

"I know how you feel," Tailmon sympathized, wincing as she dropped thename,"but Chris doesn't care about you. I got a good look at him before we followed you out of the War Room. I'm not as good at reading people as Rika and Renamon, but I am **positive** I didn't see regret. All I saw was indifference.

"If he doesn't give a damn, then neither should you!"

* * *

"HAHAHA!" Christopher Van Numen was amused. How stupid could fear-stricken people get? The residents of this apartment complex would've been safe if they just let things take their course. He had no problems with eavesdroppers or uncaring people, so long as they complied with his direct commands.

He snorted. The police—and these stupid people—were going to get what they deserved. "Stay right where you are," the blond told her, releasing her leg, ignoring the gasp that went out her mouth when she saw the dark outline Chris's viselike grip stamped on her smooth, fair skin. He rose, turning towards the gaping doorway. "I'll be right back."

"S, shit!" The lady to whom he relinquished freedom for minute or two clasped his leg. "P-p-p-please," she begged, her voice stammering from all the pain and fright she suffered from. "D-don't, don't destroy the bulding. Think of the people. Think of the families living here."

"**They** should've thought of that before they called the cops." He forced his leg away from her hands and resumed his exit. Chris's left hand trembled with excitement. This was an opportunity to test the stability and power of the Realm Scanner's restored _Assault Mode_.

"STOP!" The ex-Modifier implored. Every plea reminded him of a dog whining on the feet of its master. It disgusted him. It also generated a phantom image of Veemon holding his hand, miserably begging Christopher to affirm their friendship. The phantasm unsettled him. _Goddammit_, he cursed, shaking it off.

It refused to go away. In fact, the image and the sensations on his palm became more prominent as Tina protested and supplicated. "Don't do it! Please, Chris"—was she using his name to lull him into a sense of familiarity and amity? Ha! That only worked for _normal_ people, when he was anything _ but_ normal.—"think of** your** family... **your** friends..."

Veemon's apparition disappeared as soon as he heard her refer to _his _inner circle. _Stupid girl! _Her lack of knowledge of Chris's own situation earned some condonation from this offense, but the blond was too pissed off to think straight. Eyes of disdain ogled the pathetic, red-haired woman. "They're dead. **ALL** of them."

Then he walked away, blocking out every one of Tina's subsequent syllables as his goldenrod eyes took on its eerie, azure glow once more.

_Activate._

* * *

Only in that moment did the notion of betrayal sink in. The lack of remorse. Indifference, preceding the heinous actions that were committed. All the rumors swirling around the black veil of brutality. The willingness to manipulate someone so desperate for a best friend.

It all permeated Veemon, producing a glower that cast an ominous shadow on his two-inch muzzle.

"We won't betray you like Christopher," coughed Hikari, attempting to end this awkward moment. "We won't leave you like Daisuke. Never."

The blue dragon let the words pass through his ears without even taking the time to process them. He felt her gentle palm on his shoulder; his response was as apathetic as it was catatonic. Then the younger Yagami left, announcing they had about two and a half hours before they ventured into the dark streets outside.

Tailmon lingered. What happened next took him by surprise. He didn't expect it. Hikari's digital half strolled to his side and gave him the tightest hug she could make. "You'll always have me, at least. Don't forget that." The dragon felt a small, wet tongue lick the side of his cheek.

On another day, Veemon might have found this display of affection peculiar. It was moist, but not saturated with drool like his tongue was. Then again, it's probably because it wasn't as big as his own in the first place. Tonight though, he didn't feel like making such an immature remark.

Rather, he felt offended. "No." He pushed the Digimon of Light away, wiping the damp spot on his cheek. "You'll never give me what I want."

The Chosen turned to his comrade… and best friend. "You know what I want, Tailmon. Someone who can tolerate me, spend time with me, stand by me, and," his eyes looked away. His snout dispensed an embarrassed chuckle. This was something he didn't want to admit openly. "Someone who'll put me first above _everything else_.

"You can't be that someone," Veemon confessed, shaking his head sadly. "You answer to Hikari. Patamon would've been second. Agumon's the third. So where does that place me?"

Crimson eyes gazed at the cat. She had been hurt by this revelation. He could see her biting her lip—she wanted to argue back, but Tailmon knew, deep within, that all Veemon said was true. The blue dragon would never be first in her books. Never.

"Thanks for trying, though." Veemon grinned, trying to evoke the buoyancy he was known for. He returned Tailmon's embrace, even when it felt fake to him—his hug and his smile, that is.

She left not long after, promising to give him some more space for himself until it was time to leave the Li household.

Veemon ravenously devoured the _onigiri_ Hikari considerately brought for him. It was so good he made a mental note to visit this house again in the future, if he could.

It was so good, it would suffice as a swift and effective remedy for the emotions weighing him down.

If only it wasn't temporary…

.

.

.

_Two ways of coping with grief. Two ways of coping with rage and confusion. Christopher succumbs to the accumulation of his fears, his hate, his grief, and his loyalty to his mission, while Veemon grows to accept this situation, even when he finds himself back at square one, with no one to fill the void left behind by Daisuke's daunting but selfless decision._

_The DSI Infiltration mission shall soon begin. Coming up next on The Interloper, "Answers"._

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[5] Planning this chapter was difficult, the dialogue especially. Veemon and Tailmon had to be in-character, and even now I still think my best wasn't enough to show them at their best. Plenty of the scenes you see here weren't even in my original outline. When I first imagined this scene all the way back in chapter one, Veemon was drunk with a protracted gloom over the separation, rather than the final version which depicted him taking his feelings out on the digimon equivalent of an immature, human kid, being an immature creature himself. The change was necessary because it felt more real, and with the memory being a few hours old, it would certainly have that sort of effect.

Hell, I didn't even plan on having him find out about the atrocities Christopher did after he ran away from the War Room. It was only after I finished the _Operation: Pyramid_ chapters did I remember the wonders of the D-Terminal and consider what **I** would've done if I had been present in that meeting as a member of the Digidestined's core group.

[6] Truncated responses to reviews:

**Rets**: The R-Scanner's _Assault Mode_ already appeared once in a flashback several chapters ago. Of course, the dramatic tension in the Chris v. Tina interrogation scene will allow me to emphasize the power it commands.

I agree with you. Veemon wouldn't be THAT emotional over it. (*cough* maybe if a certain someone died *cough*), but I think you misunderstand or aren't seeing the sources of their pain. Christopher's agony arises from the mental anguish of his journey and the fact tragedy seems to hound his life, as everyone he loves and cares about has been killed. Veemon's torment, in contrast, can be attributed to betrayal and the recognition of the disconnect between innocence and reality. I don't want to downplay Veemon's feelings here, but Christopher's emotional baggage is blatantly heavier than his. Hence, the motel room breakdown on CH13.

**Coop97**: Thanks, coop. Glad to see you found it easier to read.

And think about it. If you were in Tailmon's position, how would you see Christopher? You'd see him as a manipulative b*tch who broke your best friend AND nearly killed the loved ones of your other friends... and it would hurt you-and infuriate you-to see your best friend mourning the loss of a friendship that, in your eyes, never existed in the first place.

I say Tailmon's reaction is well-justified.

**RazenX**: Thanks, man. Good thing the tactic worked. Let's see if that holds up again in the next chapter. Oh! And there's going to be a major plot revelation on the next chap. Try taking a stab on what it is. XD (This applies to all readers)

**Lord Pata**: Very good thing they were there! We don't want Veemon to turn into a crazy, obsessed killing machine like Christopher now, do we? :D


	21. Answers (Part I)

**Pre-chapter author's notes:  
**

[1] Word count: approx. 12,830.

[2] The chapter _Answers_ has been split into two parts due to immense length. Being the last of the introspective, emotion-centered chapters of the _Priorities _story arc, I intend on abusing it to the fullest with the clear intent of aiming for realism as much as possible. If you have anything to say about my work, **especially** if it concerns the way I handled realism, or the way I wrote the characters (esp. Taichi, Agumon, Hikari, or Tailmon), do not hesitate to leave a comment immediately, for I will incorporate the suggestions/criticisms directly into the succeeding chapters.

[3] At any rate, I present to you _Answers_, part I of II. Enjoy. :) (To enhance the reading experience, you may consider playing _Breath of Fire: Dragon Quarter_'s "Calling from a Distance" whenever reading the story segments involving Christopher. The melody, along with the primary instrument, fits very well with what I've written. The BGM can be easily found on Youtube.)

* * *

For Wakana Himura, a humble professional of 28 years, living in Tokyo as a man halfway up the corporate ladder was _the_ time of his life. Money was something he never ran out off, and for sure he was well on his way to becoming a respected businessman in the nation.

After all, he had the contacts.

He had the knowledge.

He had the managerial ability.

Best of all, he had the capital as well. Enough money to start his own enterprise… or invest in one, if necessary.

Himura was one of the few, if not _extremely rare_, Japanese nationals who obeyed a devout subscription to a monotheistic religion. To Christianity. Of course, it was obvious all the good fortune he now possessed in his life was attributed to his Lord, Jesus Christ. The only blessing he had yet to receive from the Son of God, of course, was a beautiful woman, just as ambitious and hard-working as he was.

Tonight, however, whatever prayers would slink through his pursed lips would go unheard by the everlasting ubiquity of the Most High. Like in any other major disaster, the catastrophe was destined to happen as it was supposed to happen . People would die. Their families were sure to mourn the deaths, demanding the heavens for a sign, for an explanation to why their lives were snuffed out in one night. People reading the newspaper, removed from Japan and, unlike its citizens, worshiping one God or many, might start questioning their faith, questioning their Divine Magistrate, supplicating for enlightenment: **why** did it happen? Why didn't God—or the gods, depending on one's theology, do something about it?

Everything had been going all right for Wakana Himura, for this aspiring professional. He had accomplished so much today. The corporation he incorporated and managed during his free time bagged a major contract this afternoon. Investments made in the ventures of his friends and family were beginning to prosper. Better yet, money placed into Asia's capital markets were rising, giving him capital gains that were sure to put him in the spotlight. And that was just business.

Hours earlier, Himura attended a high school reunion. One that opened his eyes to how his classmates of old had progressed into individuals of varying success.

And to how addicted they still were to drinking, after so many years.

This career-driven professional regretted going home, instead of participating in the rambunctious folly of his former peers.

Himura could have sworn on his mother's life he had only a minute or so left before the serene rapture of sleep would swallow him whole and enshroud the man in its warmth and peace. A great rumble shattered the moment, sounding more like a car crash at high speeds. It shook the very building, sheer intensity alone indicating its proximity: two doors away from his own apartment.

The gruff baritone of a male seemed to resonate through the hollow walls of the building. Himura had been certain his next-door neighbor could hear the whole thing, but what drew his concern was not the voice that followed barely a minute after this ear-shattering thunder. Instead it was the callous attitude its muffled echoes kept resonating. Whispers that would haunt Himura for days to come.

Soft mutters that were suddenly kindled into iniquitous caveats.

"IF ANYONE CALLS FOR HELP, **I'LL SEE TO IT THIS BUILDING IS WIPED FROM EXISTENCE IN AN HOUR!**"

The only adjective Himura could latch on this disembodied voice was _demonic_. Nothing else seemed so… fitting. Its audibility was simply incredible—bells were ringing in the professional's ears, stinging from the unsullen clarity he discerned the warning. For sure many of the tenants in this building had heard the disturbing threat.

The youthful Japanese went to a corner of his living room, approaching a stand converted into an altar, one that proudly—prominently displayed a photograph of Jesus Christ (or at least, how artists envisioned him. In Himura's opinion, one of the greatest tragedies of all time was the fact the Messiah did not bother paying someone to cast his face into visual immortality.). Propped on the wall was a stone cross three-quarters the size of a footlong ruler, blessed by a priest from one of the few churches in Tokyo, and—according to the person he bought it from—by a spiritualist acting as a medium for the Most High.

Wakana Himura, who would normally treat this artifact as if it was family—as if it was his dearest in life, swiped the cross in a speed and manner that could only be called barbaric. Sacrilegious, even. The professional silently reprimanded himself only once before he rationalized his action.

He was doing this because some _monster_ was in Odaiba, terrorizing the residents of this apartment complex. Himura bowed his head until the tip of the cross touched his brow and murmured the Lord's Prayer.

"_Our Father, who art in Heaven…"_

As the man invoked—or so he believed and hoped—the miraculous power of God, thoughts were nagging at his head. Thoughts that were surprisingly down to earth, grounded in logic and morality rather than the religious. The supernatural. The spiritual.

"…_Thy will be done…"_

Judging from the absence of any struggling or acts of heroism among the inhabitants, why wasn't anyone DOING SOMETHING about this terrorist? Surely with their own lives—their families as well—at risk, they would be pressed to either flee the building or, in an act of human defiance and courage, defend their loved ones!

Himura was sure someone had called the police by now. Only a true coward could have acceded to the heinous demand.

What he found unnerving, however, was the nature of this intruder. Who was the individual disturbing peace and order? As the threat was disseminated in a manner allowed _only_ by lucidity and freedom , it was definitely human—a well-armed one, too, judging from the threat he just gave.

"_Forgive us for our trespasses…"_

The young professional, still clutching his cross, thought about the **feasibility** of the warning. Wipe the building away… _From existence?_

From existence?

As in, poof! Like the Lord God literally plucked the apartment complex from its spot in Odaiba and hurled everything that had to do with it into the recesses of hell: the landscape, the concrete foundations, the parked cars, the bicycles, the residents, and everything else?

"…_as we forgive those who trespass against us."_

Not even a lone terrorist could prepare something that could match such unparalleled destruction! Bombs may destroy the building, and all the inhabitants in it, but certainly it would leave the telltale marks of detonation… along with bodies and broken rubble.

Surely there was nothing in this world…

This _world_.

That's when he realized: it was a SCAI.

A _free_ SCAI—a Wild One!

Himura's clasp over the cross tightened to the point it **shook**. The mere thought of a SCAI terrorizing this apartment and every innocent that lived in it incensed the professional. He found it so damning it riled both mind and body and on top of it, _broke_ one of the Ten Commandments. _Goddamn __**freaks of nature**_.

Had it not been for a research paper published by Akihiro Kurata, Samuel Oak, and a team of scientists several years ago, Himura would've found it hard to believe these dangerous, accursed abominations were created by the Heavenly Father, **especially** when they had been blessed with free will and the capacity for reason, the same qualities that separated Man from everything else in this world, the same traits that God endowed on the human race in an attempt to cultivate responsible stewardship over His creations.

History, of course, provided an investigation into the aberrant nature of these self-conscious artificial intelligence: autonomous programs of **unstable computer data** acclimating to the analog—organic—system abided by the "real world" without fail.

Unstable computer data.

Programs.

Their origins, traced back to humanity.

The SCAIs' existence was blasphemy! An utter disrespect for God's power to create intelligent life. The Fourth of July incident would forever serve as a cruel reminder of Man's folly _and_ ignorance, seeing as how no one was aware of the SCAIs until the Digital Revelation ten years ago.

Whoever founded the Digital Suppression Initiative had been correct in reining these **things** and manage them properly. Of course, the ones who believed so strongly these monsters' rationality and emotions were innate rather than artificial—the Chosen Children (as the twelve of them called themselves in that January 2003 issue of TIME Magazine), along with every member of the Digidestined—put up a resistance that persisted to this day, two years since the war. No, **five **years since that Inoue girl fell to a sniper's bullet.

Was this Wild One a Digidestined? What horrors was it capable of? Just what was going on in the unit two doors away from his own? Why was it even there in the first place?

So many questions overloaded Himura's mind, his right hand was already opening the front door by the time he caught himself, the cross still clutched tightly by his left. Curiosity was compelling him to go out and investigate, to see if someone had called for help (hopefully the DSI, not the powerless police), to see if people were willing to try and subdue the SCAI to defend their homes and families and the interests of the human race as a collective whole.

A nagging thought popped up on his head as he pulled the wooden panel inwards, subjecting himself to the cool breeze of the night. The Most High, as proclaimed by the Church, had a preference of using humans as conduits of his Divine Will. Would Himura play a role in stopping this act of terrorism? Would he die doing so? Or would he fail his Heavenly Father?

…or, his mind wandered, has God abandoned the entire apartment since this whole disaster started?

Himura found his answer the moment he went beyond the false safety of his home, the moment he felt the resistance of its immovable frame, forcing his delicate fingers to relinquish their hold on the Isabelline panel's knob.

A trio of men had summoned the courage to face off the unseen enemy. They, too, had heard the callous threat, and unlike Himura, did not waste time with any display of diffidence or fright, rising in arms the moment they knew their families were in danger, their neighbors were being threatened. Unity and coordination in crisis was a very human trait, and it was only through catastrophes—imminent or concluded—Mankind invoked the power of solidarity and endured, if not assuaged, the burden on every person's heart and body.

The threat to one of their own stoked the fire of solidarity in this group's hearts, which overrode whatever fear and hesitation lurked within themselves. Himura wasn't so ignorant and naïve to _not_ see the anxiety written on their faces, the nervous sweat breaking out at the thought of challenging the beast in their midst. All were armed. One had an expandable baton. Another had gripped a meat cleaver taken straight from the kitchen. A third had a handgun—a Glock, Himura figured.

All three were ready for combat if the situation entailed it, ready to face death. Himura knew how deadly a SCAI could be—even the most innocent ones, the cute critters the Digital Suppression Initiative typically classified "Rookies" were capable of sowing terror among the populace, their stalwart bodies possessing the strength and power necessary to bludgeon a grown man in one hit, even soldiers whose weaknesses were abraded in battle.

Wakana Himura knew it wasn't his place to loiter on the open corridor. All he had for protection was a stone cross that was just about as dangerous as the financial calculator his fingers danced on during work hours. The only thing that drove him to linger in the breeze—deceptively warm and peaceful—was merely curiosity and an instinct to bear witness to the heroics about to unfold before him.

It was not just the armaments that discouraged the ambitious professional. Curiosity, spirituality, and testification, the drivers of his actions thus far, were values that deserved to be thrown in the garbage without a second thought when compared to the trio's radiating selflessness, unity, and valor.

This inferiority complex exacerbated upon recognition of the three stacked up and poised to ambush the Digidestined terrorizing their apartment. They were all his **neighbors**. Not just neighbors, but his clients as well. Clients of Himura's investment firm, who entrusted their money to him, and along it, their retirement, their family's lives!

A business relationship that had long since blossomed into a beautiful friendship.

Himura knew for a fact these people were not fighters! One look at each man in the trio and he could easily recite the most basic information about them. Who they were, to the point of accurately delineating their occupations, their yearly salaries, even their personal lives. Himura even had photographs with them distributed so freely on _Facebook_, obviously from special events such as outings, a trip to the province, or any other bonding activity between client and advisor, between neighbors, between friends.

Wasn't it a complete irony that they had stacked up beside the gaping doorway of the Fujieda household? Himura knew the two sisters that lived within. One had been employed as a DSI soldier. The other, despite being a tender age of ten, ran the house, somehow managing the adult task while going to school every day. Young Yoshino reminded him of his college days, living practically alone while studying full-time—working part-time. Once he had even invited the girl into his home out of admiration for one so young.

Himura was acquainted with Yoshino… and the docile, floating bud that had decided to be her second shadow. (Thank the Lord its free will and logic was sealed by the black spiral on its crown!)

Wait a minute. Perhaps that was the reason the Fujiedas were being invaded. The Digidestined needed more power! After that disaster last night—for them, anyway. The DSI had won in the end: a testament to the power of the human spirit!—they must be desperate for new comrades!

It enraged him. _Just how low can they go?_

Himura wished the Heavenly Father would slam the Digidestined—and the Chosen Children who lead them—down and drag them and their evil to the bosom of Satan and imprison them forever within his belly, to feel the pain and suffering and anguish of being digested alive for eternity.

The hum of police sirens rose in his ears, their blaring whines mounting in volume as the vehicles transporting professional help to this apartment closed in. The trio tensed, preparing for the imminent. The inevitable.

"_STOP! Don't do it!"_

Tina Fujieda was begging. Himura did not focus on the specifics, on the circumstances that brought her here from the duty she was obligated to observe as a veteran soldier of the Digital Suppression Initiative. He reserved no questions for that lovely Yoshino's older sister. His mind was fixated on the fact she was pleading, **bleating **her protests and supplications.

How could anyone drive someone like her to a state so pathetic?

"_Please, Chris, think of __**your**__ family… __**your**__ friends…"_

A deep voice boomed, its clarity fully heard by Himura's eardrums._"They're dead. __**ALL**__ of them."_ It was the same voice he heard in the bosom of his apartment, though muffled into murmurs and whispers.

He barely had the time to register the fact this "Chris" was **not** a self-conscious artificial intelligence as he earlier presumed, but rather a human…

Because a tall figure emerged from the yawning doorway of Unit 824, his presence so imposing and otherworldly it prompted the three men to conduct their ambush in an instant.

.

.

.

_W-w-w, what, WHAT-IS-HE?_

Beads of sweat rolled down the side of Himura's head, his pupils quivering, his ratiocinations unwilling to believe the shocking event that had just transpired.

The blond that stood on the doorway, this, this Chris, fielded a direct strike _to the head_ from the man wielding an expandable baton and **did not flinch**. In fact, the weapon had bent beyond repair. A rod of _metal_… dented!

"OH MY EFFING—

Reiji, the man holding the butcher knife, was undaunted. Anger and determination both rocketed, blinding him to the possibility the very same would happen to his weapon. He brought down the cleaver, straight on the point where Chris's shoulder blade met his neck. So clear was his intention to decapitate the blond.

The terrorist's resilience was even clearer. Reiji's knife **SHATTERED** from the attack. He did not even have a chance to utter a yelp of surprise—the man (could he really be a man?) chucked his fist into Reiji's solar plexus at a speed Himura would never have the words to describe. So swift and invisible was the motion blur it was as if the strike was never made at all.

Yet the counterattack had been made.

That was obvious.

Especially in light of the horror of Reiji's **entire midsection** bursting into a disgusting paste polluted by the squalor of blood and guts**. **Himura's feet was petrified the instant he felt something warm land on his forearm, something that must have been Reiji's stomach… or intestines.

Reiji fell as two separate body parts, covering the concrete floor with a red liquid that brightened under the fluorescent light. A scream of terror overwhelmed the silence that followed—Himura's gun-toting neighbor shrieked in fright and pulled the trigger on his Glock, its barrel aimed straight for the eyes that were unnaturally gold—rarely if not never seen on a human being.

He had only gotten two shots out (with their bullets uselessly bouncing off Chris's _cornea_swithout causing a reaction from him) when the blond swatted the firearm away, hurling both the Glock and **the entire arm**—up to the elbow—down to the asphalt eight stories down. Shock and pain consumed Himura's neighbor, forcing him down on his knees and crying like a full-grown baby for the agony to end.

Reality returned to Himura as soon as he felt a muscular body bump into him. "OUT OF MY WAY, HIMURA!" bellowed the fear-stricken neighbor, discarding his bent baton while he flew from the apartment, rushing into the emergency stairs without considering the fact doing so meant leaving his own family in Unit 820 to the mercy of this… man… SCAI… something!

The blond—this Chris—stood there, gazing down, away from the apartment, away from the fleeing neighbor. The screams of the amputee and the gurgling of the dying would-be hero, which would leave an everlasting mark on poor Himura, were unheard to him—it—whatever. Himura followed his gaze, only to see the group of police cars approaching the apartment complex, speeding through the nearly-empty roads like bright blue-and-red bullets in this black night.

A whirring noise distracted Himura. He turned towards its source, towards Unit 824, and gasped. Good Lord, the blond's eyes were glowing! Their unnaturally gold color was overtaken by crystal blue that were ostensible and so visible in the night. It unnerved the professional, yet not as much as what happened next.

The silver vambrace on this man's left arm split from the middle, spreading apart to make room for a tiny cannon a little over half the length of the bracer. Himura would have found it laughable if it wasn't for the fates of the three men who tried to be heroes. Instead, he found it terrifying, so foreboding he did nothing but watch the invader lift his left arm and _aim_ the tiny barrel towards the police cars down the street.

Himura might have been laughing hard and deriding this man for thinking of disposing the government threat with such a pitiful weapon if he wasn't so busy pondering **what the hell** was this man, this "Chris". If he went by looks alone, he was not a SCAI. "Terrorist", as was his first guess, was a more fitting occupation for him, clarified or even _accentuated_ by the black vest on his torso and the gun holstered on his waist. He had no idea why he had a white staff strapped to his back, but something about the anachronistic weapon intimidated Himura, as if it was more dangerous than whatever this man was about to do.

If he was human, then why? WHY could he take injurious—fatal attacks head-on without getting hurt? Without so much as a mere scratch? Was he some kind of unholy offspring between a SCAI and a human being?

His thoughts were interrupted when a disturbing sound shook every bone in his body, assaulting his ears to the point he staggered and clutched them, trying to protect his precious hearing, but to no avail; the sounds were comparable to a sonic boom, to an eerie scream of a thousand tires screeching at the same time.

In the past minute, Himura may have failed to witness the green wisps of light being gathered by the handcannon's unimposing cylinder, but he most certainly perceived the gigantic ray of light—of the most vibrant green—erupting from it.

It streamed across the sky, blanketing everything in a creepy, beryl glow, all while wailing its inhuman screams. Shattering the tranquility of the night. Filling every listener with pure fear. The beam of light frightened Himura, for it had been nothing like he had seen in his entire life.

Himura tried so hard to resist the urge to follow its line of fire, to see what it had been trained at, to confirm the unfortunate deaths of this apartment's only hope. But he couldn't. So strong were his drive to know and his sympathies towards both the fallen neighbors and the reinforcements in whom all hopes had been placed in, he snuck a peek, only for his eyeballs to affix themselves on the destruction the green light had sowed.

What Himura was seeing could not be called "destruction" anymore.

Destruction was so different from this. Destruction permitted one to discover the residues of what once was. Reiji's guts, splattered all over the concrete flooring, arose from an act of destruction. The gaping doorway and the small fragments of wood and cement that used to be Unit 824's door resulted from an act of destruction as well.

There was always something left behind.

What the green light left in its wake was **not** destruction.

It was oblivion.

Himura had expected to see wreckage on the road, only to find none. A gorge as black and as dead as outer space greeted his vision, so wide a section of the street was missing. The vehicular debris, even the police officers' bodies, were nowhere to be found. Stillness embraced the road. The faint sound of skidding tires reached Himura, caused by a car whose driver noticed the gorge almost milliseconds too late, but none of that had been heard.

Himura was too focused on the ominous threat this Chris declared not too long ago, too concentrated on how **clean** the carnage was dispensed. It was as if, as if… anything the green light touched **was wiped from existence**.

The green light actually reminded Himura of a book he once read so many years ago as he was growing up, as he was studying his path of ambition. A book about wizards and witches in a school in the nadir of the European Union, its main character a boy—then a man—who survived a light, a spell, that snuffed out the life of anything it touched.

Its details were hazy to him, lost to the recesses of his mind as it was replaced by knowledge on finance, investing, and business, on adult matters. The only thing Himura could actually remember was the name of this spell, the invocation that beckoned the green light of death into existence.

In the book, the light was a force of murder. An unforgivable curse that literally spirited away the lives of those it struck, leaving no evidence for forensic investigators to study. As if the heart just stopped. As if its victims stopped being… alive.

In the book, the light did not shatter the air with a shriek so loud it could have belonged to the voices of screaming banshees and howling werewolves joined together in unholy matrimony. Neither did it affect objects that weren't alive to begin with. In fact, whoever employed the eerie, emerald radiance must chant the spell's name to invoke it, strengthening the conjuration through malice and dark intent.

Real life was so different from that fantasy, modernist world of witchcraft and wizardry. It was not a force of murder. It was not an unforgivable curse, ensorcelled with the flick of a wand and the ejaculation of words. The green light was vastly different from the literary universe, affecting **everything** that came into contact, _erasing them_ like a dishwashing soap would remove the dirt and grime off plates and silverware, like an artist deleting them from the world.

There was nothing left behind. Nothing to clean up after. No bodies to bury or cremate.

Oblivion had been administered. Mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Silently.

Himura ogled the blond, wondering what's going to happen now. Was he going to follow through on his threat? Was he going to kill more, even those who weren't involved with the failed heroics of the two men on the floor, one dead in two pieces and one unconscious, missing an arm?

That's when he realized those dreadful eyes fell upon him, upon Wakana Himura, upon the one man who still stood there gaping like an idiot, like a painted target for this "Chris" to hunt and kill. He froze, not knowing what to do.

The glowing eyes frightened him, injecting a fear like no other. This was no SCAI. This was no human. This was not a wizard. This was a demon. A DEMON! An atrocity that spat upon God's holy existence—nothing else could be so heartless as to kill with such brutality, depriving families of their children and parents! Depriving the dead of even a dignified departure from the mortal plane.

Wakana Himura tried to run while he still could, but he couldn't move. He even fell on his posterior. A terrified whimper more pathetic than the agonizing screams of the men who dared to ambush the demon escaped from Himura's mouth. The only thing he could do was lift the stone cross towards the blond in an attempt to repel him. "S-s-s-s, stay, s-s-stay back!" he summoned some courage, only to be betrayed by the jittery quivers made by his fear-stricken body.

"_Our Father who art in Heaven,_" the professional prayed once more, only to find himself unable to continue the Lord's prayer.

"_Our Father who art in Heaven!"_ Himura muttered to himself, **willing** himself to continue. _"Hallowed be thy…_" the words died on his lips. He couldn't say it! HE COULDN'T SAY IT! So stricken was he with paralysis Himura could not even close his eyes and wait for the inevitable—wait for his vision to process the image of the Messiah in the afterlife, in the fabled light at the end of the life's tunnel.

A tense minute passed between him and the demon, underlined by the cross that shook in his trembling clasp, before the latter made his move.

Himura did not know what to think—what to say—when his own eyes watched the blond's glowing eyes revert to their ordinary (if one could still call their color ordinary) state while he went back inside unit 824.

This spawn of Satan **ignored** Himura.

Later in the morning, when he would replay this memory in his mind, Himura would certainly omit the fact he fainted immediately after the demon left him alone and, as one could expect, attribute his survival to God's divine mercy, attesting the Heavenly Father had a plan for him…

* * *

Unlike Wakana Himura, the last thing Taichi Yagami saw **was** the green light he so feared… along with a multitude of monsters Taichi could only describe as perverted and aberrant—a humongous reptile the size of a pony and a towering, headless suit of armor brandishing a blade twice its height as if it was the lightest object in the world, as if it was a mere feather. Himura, of course, would slap the label "demonic" on them as he did with the blond who slaughtered the policemen.

He had woken up quite a few times afterward, but the Child of Courage's recollection of the succeeding events was fuzzy. Many of them involved a brightly-lit room, washed in white paint, as well as people striking his face and subjecting him to something his mind refused to recall—something agonizing, Taichi figured, based on the intense pain crippling his body. _Was I being interrogated?_ He thought, hoping he at least didn't spill any beans on the Digidestined.

The inability to recall something was annoying. He shuddered to think he could one day be _this _forgetful as an old man.

Snapping his eyes open, the Chosen Child surveyed his surroundings, their gaze panning slowly. Unfortunately, there wasn't much for him to see. For all intents and purposes, wherever he was, it was meant to be a cell. The walls were carved from stone, encroaching upon the human desire for "breathing room". Aside from the thick, steel door on one side of this dark prison, there was nothing else. Not even a bed.

The architect who designed this cell, Taichi speculated, must have wanted to make the prisoners as uncomfortable as he could, not to mention induce claustrophobia even in those who have never been afflicted by it.

Luckily, _that_ wasn't a problem for the elder Yagami.

The same couldn't be said for the frigid temperature that blanketed the cell. He shivered, his breath condensating as it left his body. Watching the white mist dissipate into the cold, lifeless air, Taichi's body trembled, trying to generate some warmth before illness set in. Hugging his own arms proved to be useless—he needed something better. Something more insulated.

Like the cloak he wore.

It was only on the second his fingers grasped air did Taichi Yagami realize his entire body was no longer enveloped in chocolate brown. It was also then he noticed everything else that was on his person had been stripped away.

His guns were gone. Same for his combat knife. To add insult to injury, his precious goggles were nowhere to be found! All that was left of his clothing and equipment were the boots on his feet, the fatigues covering his legs, and the star-spangled shirt defending his back.

The passage of five minutes was enough time for Taichi to reel from the hurtful spasms gnawing at his heart, paroxysms that did not harm him phyisically, instead deflating the Child of Courage to a cruel poignance that even Daisuke would lament over.

A vivid recollection of the failed _Operation: Pyramid_ haunted his eyes. What tormented him was not the corner the Digital Suppression Initiative had driven them into, not the fact he revealed his ability to evolve his partner digimon to Ultimate, but rather the choice he had to make to follow through with a well-formulated plan that had been doomed to fall.

.

.

_Hikari Yagami refused to yield, predicting—proclaiming the failure of the covert operation he had tried so hard to hide from her. "IT WILL FAIL!" she echoed, arguing with her older brother, completely disrespecting the sanctity of the memorial, the air that commanded respect for the late Daisuke Motomiya, her best friend. Her penultimate lifeline to sanity since her beloved Takeru's untimely death._

_Taichi refused to even consider the possibility of failure, or its inevitability as hindsight would deem it. So confident was the Child of Courage in his strategy he did not—he never—acceded to his younger sister's pleas for reconsideration. Without a clear and logical explanation for the prediction,he was determined to make her see the light, to show her how __**necessary **_Operation: Pyramid_ was._

.

.

In the end, Taichi was forced to slam his fist into the gut of his sister. His own sister. His _younger_ sister. Hikari Yagami, the few people in this world for whom hefought for, for whom he struggled for. She had only been trying to stop him out of fear for his life, acting on the possibility Taichi could leave her all alone in the world. He couldn't blame her for resisting his plans the way she did.

Unfortunately, neither could she. Taichi was buried deep in desperation, and the only reason why he had to see _Operation: Pyramid_ from start to finish was for her. For her future. Ever since the Yagami siblings dissociated themselves from their own parents to live a life in hiding, her welfare was always the first thing on his mind.

Guilt ate the Child of Courage from the inside. He had been doing everything for his beloved little sister, yet the last memory she would ever have of him was a numbing pain in the middle of her gut, along with profuse apologies she would never accept for years, if not for the rest of her life. The thought of it produced tears to stream from Taichi's eyes.

He should've listened.

He should have listened, dammit!

Why did he have to be so stubborn? If Taichi hadn't placed such blind faith in the enormous effort placed in concocting _Operation: Pyramid_, he might still be in Mt. Fuji right now. Better yet, everyone who had gone with him would still be alive.

Yuuko Urameshi. ToyAgumon.

Rika Nonaka. Renamon.

Yuuji, Miki, and their digimon.

The Kurosawa family, Falcomon, and Impmon.

_Oh no, the Kurosawas._ Taichi would have thrown up in the lone toilet bowl on the corner if he actually had some food in his grumbling stomach (_Oh great. Another problem._), now that the memory of their gruesome deaths returned to his mind's eye.

How could he forget how they died? It was impossible not to! One minute, their eyes were full to the brim with hope, believing their chances of survival were higher upon reuniting with Taichi Yagami. The next, a headless knight swung its colossal sword through their bodies, chopping them in half, unaffected by a pair of weapons along with the body of its user, a digimon in its Perfect level. Beelzemon's shotguns couldn't even penetrate its armor—and he was an Ultimate!

Along with the hundreds of reptiles, these creatures were not digimon at all. Real monsters, composed of nothing but wisps of darkness. Of a living death. Theyacted as if their only instinct was to kill, bludgeon, and maim. No emotions. No capacity for reason. They were but shells of extinction.

The majestic beauty of a woman's face flashed before his eyes, her brightgreen eyes wallowing in condescenscion. Her long, flowing hair mocking him with every swish in flight.

Felicia Portal.

It made Taichi scowl.

_That woman_ had been controlling those things—the Gatespawn, she called them. Thinking of the name alone stewed his blood, even though nothing, not even a grunt, leapt from his tongue to the cold air of the cell, which he now had completely forgotten. Though Taichi knew only her name, recalling the ease and amazing lack of difficulty it took to defeat WarGreymon at his strongest splintered his pride and confidence even more.

He despised the way Felicia toyed with the Digidestined. With his operatives. With **him**. To think _she_ was the reason the DSI learned about the furtive strike.

His rage burned quietly, boiling within.

If it hadn't been for her, many of his friends could be alive right now. Even better: they might have even triumphed against the Digital Suppression Initiative, their headquarters under the Digidestined's complete control. Right now, he could even be shutting down Kurata's hated Digital Dive System, instead of languishing here in one of their stale prisons.

A long sigh flew out his lips. The Child of Courage figured this wasn't getting him anywhere. He had long since noticed the loneliness invading his psyche, inciting something worse than claustrophobia, something Taichi would wish to end far sooner.

He longed for Botamon, for his digimon partner. The DSI not only took his cloak, goggles, and gun away, but also confiscated the Digimon of Courage and digivice, although he didn't know why. It was obsolete compared to the D3's, plus R&D would find it useless considering M&A had the legal authority to seize First Generation digivices from every new partnership made on Earth.

Whoever had him incarcerated was smart enough to keep the two of them separated, to deprive Taichi of the tools needed to escape. Certainly the DSI did not underestimate him, fully aware of his talent for combat, of his indomitable intelligence and prowess.

The elder Yagami had so many questions on his mind, and most of them revolved around the fate of the Digital World. Slumped in the cell, leaning on one of the cold, stone walls, his mind thought about humankind, about the Digidestined, about the Chosen Children still alive to this day, and about his younger sister as well.

Questions populated his thoughts and multiplied as fast as bacteria did on the microscopic level. Taichi Yagami caught himself ruminating over the nature of the Gatespawn, over the objectives of the mysterious and extremely dangerous Felicia. Just who **was** she? And what was she after?

Looking back at the way Felicia exemplified his own weakness, Taichi knew for a fact he should have died back then, when he was down on his knees, clutching a barely conscious Botamon to his chest, murmuring regrets meant for his younger sister, surrounded by the Gatespawn, and scorned by the woman in green.

So why was he still alive?

Why did she hand him to the Digital Suppression Initiative?

Trying to answer these questions by himself was futile. Taichi knew this. He could do no more except saunter slowly to the steel door cutting him off fro everything beyond. How he wished he could destroy it in one punch, so he could run out of his frigid prison, retrieve his cloak, his goggles, his weapons, and finally, find his partner and get out of there! Alas, Taichi was merely human… weak and fragile.

His gaze penetrated the glass window on the door, grateful for its berth and width—comparable to a small laptop's monitor. His eyes appreciated the organization's decision to set a clock at a reasonable distance from the thick panel of steel. Knowing the time was a luxury that became necessity, if not to establish a fake connection to the outside world then a method of maintaining his own sanity.

It was 2:59, presumably in the early morning. He may not have the date, but it was better than nothing.

Adjusting the angle of his viewpoint, Taichi discerned the presence of four guardsmen **at a minimum** watching over his cell in an oxymoronic state of laissez-faire and vigilance. Each were clad in the dark blue BDU's reserved only for veterans, with assault rifles and automatic shotguns on their person.

The security was highly unnecessary. Overkill. Taichi had already been relieved of his weapons and his dearest partner. The cell was virtually impenetrable. Not even the ventilation system could be used—there were about three of them in the prison, all too small for Taichi to use, their grates welded shut.. It was crazy for anyone to even expect a successful breakout from this stone prison.

Whoever placed him in here took him very seriously, and with good reason. It would not bode well for the DSI to underestimate Taichi's uncanny ability to reverse the worst of situations, to turn a disadvantage into its polar opposite, using only what the circumstances provided him. Taichi Yagami, the Child of Courage, was a true spirit of ingenuity, a man who could make the most refreshing lemonade from the spoiled and rotten lemons of life.

Sometimes, however, life would not give him lemons, but rather, something else entirely.

At about five minutes past three, the air outside the steel frame rippled like water, as if someone had thrown a small stone into it.

Felicia Portal's countenance sneered at him, occupying over 70% of the tiny window.

Her presence did not go unnoticed. "Who are you?" one of the guards demanded, toting the Belgian FN FAL at her, oblivious to the fact no weapons on Earth could affect her. Those green eyes of hers rolled in his direction for only a second, as if acknowledging his pathetic existence with derision.

Before the guards could apprehend her—or try to, a ball of yellow-green light appeared directly above her wide-brimmed hat, splitting into four beams of energy. One second did not even pass when all four struck the chests of the DSI veterans, penetrating their armor and uniforms with so much ease they might as well have been naked and half-dressed.

After one second _did_ lapse, the beams exploded without warning, turning the men into nothing but a sickening mixture of body parts and scarlet paint cascading down the entire corridor. Taichi cringed at the way she disposed the DSI veterans, and no less appalled at her insouciance towards the act of callously destroying anything that stood in her way. In fact, he was so shaken from **just watching her** he didn't know he had taken several steps back from the door.

Taichi Yagami's and Felicia Portal's eyes locked onto each other. Brown meeting green. Her eyes exuded only confidence and indifference. She was so removed and detached from all the politics, all the struggle, happening in this world she could care less about the consequences of her intervention.

His eyes, on the other hand, suffered in a quagmire of confusion and terror. Taichi's famous sense of intuition was telling him Felicia was not there to rescue him, but to commence something that would benefit her in the future. She was, his gut persevered, pursuing her own plans.

He wondered what they were, shuddering at even _trying_ to speculate what his role was in the first place.

Before his ruminations could continue, the steel door vanished in a cloud of lime energy without warning, disintegrating the only thing that separated Taichi from this vile woman, the b*tch responsible for the deaths of his friends, for the failure of _Operation: Pyramid_.

The Child of Courage trembled at the sight of her arrogant, condescending smirk, no matter how often his eyes were drawn to the tight blouse worn over her prominent breasts, and the smooth legs unencumbered by the petite shorts dropping down her hips. Felicia was not just similar to a playful god imbued with omnipotence; she was also a majestic beauty to behold,and she **knew **it.

Taichi had been so enamored by her intimidating presence his gaze missed the small, pink digimon bouncing on the floor from her feet to his own. In spite of its apparent lack of legs and laughable height of a foot, the soft, fleshy blob leapt all the way from the stone all the way up the Chosen Child's face.

"TAICHI!" It screamed, the intonation the word "happy" could never define. They fell to the floor, with the rotund creature nuzzling his cheek lovingly with its own body, its long, slender ears wrapped around his skull like a hug

Certainly, Taichi had been happy to see Koromon. Not just happy, but **overjoyed**. He might have even **kissed** his digital half if it wasn't for the scantily-clad female watching their sappy reunion, the mockery and disdain in her posture ostensible.

An ominous grin.

A glint of intent shining in her emerald pools…

* * *

Hikari Yagami may have presaged the failure of _Operation: Pyramid_ through her dreams, but definitely the supernatural did not bless her with the clarity to see the events that would come to pass should she pursue this daunting rescue mission. As she lay in the bed, struggling to acquire something as insignificant as an hour's worth of sleep, Hikari had no idea about the chaos that would occur that night.

Unaware, in two hours' time, the one responsible for _Pyramid_'s failure and Taichi's capture was going to set her beloved brother free from his prison in pursuit of her own sinister goals.

"Hikari, do you _actually _have a plan?" The Child of Light reflected over Janyu's question, over the conversation that occurred in concomitance with Tailmon's departure.

Hikari shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unwilling to meet the programmer's gaze boring down upon her. Aside from infiltrating the M&A Wing using a secret tunnel accessible from the storm drainage system, there was nothing else. Variables inundated the rescue mission. Nobody in the Digidestined knew where the passageway led, and how deep it would bring travelers into the enemy stronghold. While they knew where Taichi was being held prisoner, the lack of intelligence clouded the feasibility of the infiltrators locating "the Sixth Gate", whatever _that_ was.

Jianliang Li shrugged and shook his head. "Guess we can take that as a 'no'," he said, crossing his arms. The look on his face told her he didn't like how the last of the Chosen Children still fighting for the rights of digimon worldwide was embarking on a mission to rescue her older brother—and the greatest of the Twelve—without the _faintest_ idea of what to expect.

The younger of the Yagami siblings started feeling both father and son pressured her with their stern, analytical gazes, generating a stray inference in her head _they_ were worried she was not capable of handling the stress borne by a venture into the unknown.

Janyu alluded this concern, "Do you have any combat experience?"

From the programmer's eyes, it was a valid question. It was not farfetched to consider Taichi Yagami himself might have said this to his own sister had he been present during the midnight snack, during this last minute strategy session.

Hikari never saw this inquiry's merit, approaching it from her own point of view, tackling the father's concern in context of her own biography. Didn't he know he was speaking to one of the Twelve? To someone who had participated in the trials and tribulations of the First Generation _as well as_ those of the Second Generation?

The Child of Light **had** combat experience. She didn't have to rely on Taichi for his tactical prowess, on Takeru for his loving support, and Daisuke for his unwavering reliability. Her emotional dependence on them was unrelated. **Hikari was a Yagami!** Surely, she hoped, Janyu and Jianliang both _did not_ enter this conversation under the presumption she—the younger sister of the Digidestined's commander, of the Chosen Children's venerated leader, of the Twelve's greatest fighter (so great, she believed Omnimon could be pitted against Imperialdramon in his Paladin Mode and, under Taichi's guidance, **win **hands down)—was not capable of seeing through the rescue mission.

"Well," posed the programmer, his fingers rapping the table impatiently, aware there wasn't really much time to begin with. "Do you?"

Hikari was conscious she had yet to be tested by the chaotic waters of battle, but she knew, deep inside her, she knew, she could be just as great as her older brother, if given the chance to prove herself. To her., the infiltration mission wasn't just a way of retrieving her one and only Taichi from the clutches of the detestable DSI. It was also her purgatory, her own personal trial, a challenge that—should she succeed—embolden her and _also_ inspire recognition of her own merits, rather than being coddled by everyone else as the "more fragile" of the brother and sister team, as the "dependent".

Her coquelicot eyes shone with such defiance she did not even need to answer. Terriermon, ever the observant digimon, saw the determined patina caressing them, and he called it out as bluntly as his character ensured he would.

Jianliang burrowed his forehead and drilled it into his palm. "No, no, no, Ms. Yagami," he corrected her, hoping she would understand what his father meant. "We know you've got _plenty _of experience fighting digimon."

"Then—

"He's asking if you've ever **fought humans before**."

She trembled. Fighting humans? Hikari had completely forgotten about it in the midst of her thoughts and fantasies of rescuing Taichi from this pinch. She was attacking the Digital Suppression Initiative's global headquarters, after all, and one way or another she would have to **kill** a fellow human being—a person supporting a family—someone fighting for his country or for his race. Could she really bring herself to cross the line everyone else had crossed so long ago?

"N-no," Hikari admitted, before rebounding completely and supplementing her negative response with a positive comeback. "But I know how to use a gun!" She brought out a ceramic handgun to demonstrate her statement. "Taichi and Rika taught me how—

She was interrupted **again**. "Hikari," Janyu's soothing, fatherly voice flowed into her ears. "I didn't ask if you can use a gun. I asked if you ever engaged in a firefight against _people_."

The Child of Light didn't see what he was referring to. She did not perceive the clear insinuation of the horrors of war seen only on the forefront—of constant combat against those who believed _they_ were in the right. She did not discern, let alone acknowledge, the possibility of the mission changing her drastically, even in light of the fact Veemon himself had changed over the course of the war, over the three years since Daisuke left him behind in the Digital World.

Janyu knew friends in the Digidestined who raised their weapons against the crushing might of the Digital Suppression Initiative, friends who were now six feet under the ground, publicly executed by hanging or by firing squad. When they were still alive, they would tell Janyu the grotesque experiences of being in the frontlines. The terror of knowing death could snatch someone up at any second. The knowledge of being responsible for someone's demise, for the grief of countless families and friends, for the suffering that must be endured, waiting for the reaper's fatal embrace.

This duality of vulnerability and power differentiated the atmosphere of combat between digimon from a battle involving humans alone. Hikari may have experienced this dyadic symbiosis ten years ago, but unlike human opponents, all her villains in the past were monsters who weren't missed, antagonists destined to be forgotten in the collective memory.

Hikari was too sheltered—too idealistic—too innocent to be fighting to kill until her dying breath. She may have been someone changed by the impact of the war between men and monsters, but…

She was still someone who had yet to be changed by active participation **in** it.

Even though Hikari never saw any of this, the lady Yagami nonetheless stood her ground, defiant to the idea of backing down now, when the opportunity to infiltrate the M&A Wing was open for exploitation, when this window wasn't going to be available for long. "I'm going," she asserted, straightening her posture and commanding her coquelicot eyes to excrete the fire of confidence and pride as Taichi did so many times before her. "No matter what happens, I **will** rescue my older brother." _For once._

Jianliang stirred, taking a step forward. "I can go with—

"**NO**," Both Janyu and Hikari spoke simultaneously. The programmer glared angrily at Terriermon's tamer for suggesting it. Hikari ogled him with a disapproving stare devoid of irritation. Unlike Jianliang's father, she disclosed her reasons. "Your family owns the _Monster Makers_. If the DSI realized you support the Chosen Chil—the _Digidestined_", she corrected herself. "What do you think will happen?"

The Child of Light had a point. Jianliang grumbled bitterly and resigned from the conversation, leaving his father and Hikari alone. "无问题!" Terriermon comforted his tamer, rubbing the hair on his head, his long ears wrapping around his neck and torso.

"There's no use dissuading you then," adjourned Janyu Li, rising from his seat, taking the empty plates on the table to the sink. "But is rescuing Taichi the only item in your agenda?"

Hikari shook her head. "We're also shutting down the DDS."

"The Digital Dive System? How do you plan on doing that?"

She smirked. "Veemon suggested blowing it up with C4's." Her eye twitched upon mentioning the dragon—the fact he knew what C4's were still frightened her. "He's got a few in his utility belt."

Janyu whistled in amazement. "Let me give you a tip, Hikari."

"Yes?"

"When you're planting the explosives, look for a room **covered** in mainframes, top to bottom, because that entire place supports the _entire_ Japan grid, got it? It'll definitely be adjacent to a room with a cylindrical tube of enough width to accommodate a small platoon of soldiers, and sufficient height for about three ten-foot digimon, side-by-side."

"Mr. Li, just, where did you get this information?"

A grin. "It helps being CEO of one of the DSI's major suppliers for their commercial suppressors." He chuckled. "You can just say Mitsuo Yamaki once invited me to a tour of the M&A Wing last year. Didn't help many of my fellow 'tourists' were financial analysts also covering **my** company." A flustered expression appeared on Janyu's face. "I swear, some of them looked like they were having an orgasm when they found out I was touring M&A too…"

The Child of Light rescinded her decision to press for more information. Janyu didn't seem to like what he was remembering—not that she would understand. Unlike Daisuke, business management wasn't really Hikari's strong point.

Before Hikari resumed the replay of her memories, the sound of a doorknob turning snapped her to the present. Not that it mattered—after that lone tip, the rest of the conversation was just small door next to her bed creaked open, permitting a white cat to enter the guest room. Tailmon, out of consideration for the house's residents, closed the door behind her without making a sound.

"How is he?" Hikari queried. There was no need to point out her concern for Veemon when the recipient of her enquiry understood the context. After all, the Child of Light requested her digital half to check the blue dragon minutes ago, after allowing some time to pass since that heartfelt conversation.

"Asleep," the Digimon of Light responded as she scuttled up the bed and snuggled next to her surrogate sister.

"Is Veemon…?"

Tailmon nodded, affording a smile. "Yes. He looks more at peace now."

Hikari heaved a sigh, forcing all her worries and concerns into it. "I'm so glad…"

The white cat nuzzled her partner. She gave Hikari a dignified lick on the cheek. "Are you okay, Hikari? You look worried."

"I guess…" She glanced at the digital clock resting on a bedside table. Only a mere ten minutes slipped away since Tailmon was sent out to check on the blue dragon, since she cogitated on her conversation with the programmer. "I can't sleep, Tailmon. I—I keep on thinking about—

"What to expect, right?"

"Yeah" her voice trailed. "It scares me. Where do you think that secret tunnel will take us? I hope we're not walking into a trap."

"Whatever'll happen, Hikari, we can weather it." Her long, striped tail wagged, slithering along Hikari's legs. She could feel it through her pants. "We'll rescue Taichi."

She sighed. "But I don't think we—I—I can't… I can't even imagine how I'd cope in a real gunfight." Hikari hugged the feline and stroked Tailmon's muzzle with her nose. She stared into those tranquil, cerulean orbs. "I—I can't just kill them. They're, they're people…"

"Hikari…"

Releasing her digital half, Hikari held up her ceramic handgun, ogling the silhouette it made in the darkness. "I only brought _nonlethal_ rounds. There's just no way I can—

"You'll have to hurt them eventually," muttered Tailmon, her sweet voice trying to provide as much consolation as it could. "You can't escape from it, Hikari. Not when Taichi's at stake…"

The Child of Light's mouth remained shut. She did not answer. She doubted her fortitude, hesitant at the thought of crossing the proverbial line. Killing a digimon bent on domination and destruction without hope for reformation was one thing. Killing a _fellow human being_ never once crossed her mind, not even the idea of simply shooting their limbs for the sake of immobilization.

"If you can't do it," Tailmon pledged, "then I will."

"But Tailmon—

The cat laughed. "Sometimes, you're just as innocent as Veemon!" The way the Digimon of Light remarked made Hikari think she found both her partner and the aforementioned blue dragon _adorably irritating_.

Tailmon said nothing of this. She nuzzled her human half, rubbing her snout on her cheek, purring. "I know it's hard, making decisions like that. You've been a sweet and kind girl since you were little, Hikari, and I never get tired of saying I love you so much for being like that."

Tailmon lovingly nipped her cheek, her paws clinging to the Chosen Child's head and neck. Hikari could sense her feelings in her every action. The digimon wanted to comfort her, wanted to cheer her up, and make her more confident. Tailmon may not have said anything, but she already grasped the source of Hikari's worry.

It wasn't just the duality of power and guilt that bothered the young lady. It was also its potential impact on the operation. Her diffidence to end a life with her own hands might cost them the mission—along with the life of her one and only brother.

Her digital half must have been telepathic. "But please, don't forget," her soothing voice spoke, "sometimes doing what's right means making the most difficult decision in your life. Committing something you'd never do if you had a choice in the matter."

Listening to Tailmon placate Hikari's hesitation spawned a hypothetical scenario. What if the "most difficult decision" did not involve killing the soldiers, but rather, doing something as heinous and as villainous as using humans as **shields **to save themselves?

Hikari gasped. "We might take hostages... and even kill them!" Her body trembled at the thought, at the possibility of stooping to a level so low they would be no different than the antagonists she and her friends fought ten years ago. "We would be—we would be m, mu, mur, murdere—

"Hikari..."

The younger Yagami embraced the Digimon of Light, trying to draw strength from her comforting presence. Tailmon permitted the hug, regarding the 21-year-old with sad eyes. Taking a life and committing such grave sins were never easy, no matter how much it was rationalized, no matter how old and mature the culprit.

She could do nothing more but be there for her partner, praying she would do what was right in the end—tread the difficult path of a hero once more, as she did ten years ago.

* * *

_He didn't—Chris didn't—he just, he just—!_

But he did.

No matter how many times she refused to look at it, the fact ogled her relentlessly. Christopher slaughtered civilians. She had been too injured—too shaken—to even move, but even from the confines of her living room, Tina Fujieda heard the anguish of her neighbors, the screams curling her blood.

When the thunderous shrieks quaked the apartment complex, rattling its concrete skeleton with sounds loud enough to awaken every sleeping person in a 1-mi. radius, Tina honestly didn't know what to expect from it, despite having the privilege of clashing against the man in combat, as well as the fortune of surviving the battle.

Christopher's equipment never produced a blast so penetrating, so shattering. His dark matter gun whined like a motorcycle engine being revved beyond its limits. The spatha he wielded, as black as the shadows, sliced through the air, its hurled gusts yowling deafeningly. Of course, he had never once used the white staff on his back, as if it was a weapon meant to intimidate. Or rather, as if it was something never meant for use until the darkest, the most hopeless of moments.

Still, none of them ever pulled out something as disturbing and unnerving as the wails her ears just endured. Never in her whole life had she heard a blare so otherworldly, so ghastly, it sent her very being quivering, her bones shaking in fear.

Her purple eyes dilated when they landed on the man as he returned, marveling the vambrace on his left arm. She was transfixed immediately.

Last week, it was the ultimate shield. Capable of enduring everything hurled at it without a single scratch on its surface. The transparent film covering the azure crystal on the wider area of the bracer was just as indestructible. Bullets, grenades, explosives, digimon attacks, as well as the green energy fired by both the Modifiers' prototype rifles and Christopher's firearm, had no effect on this marvelous piece of equipment.

Right now, on this very second, the vambrace had taken on a form she had never seen during the Midnight Assault. One her purple eyes couldn't help but gawk at, basking in the **sheer impossibility** of it.

The vambrace, the gauntlet, the bracer, _whatever_ one called the ultimate shield, it had been split in twine. Tina's eyes were sharp enough to catch the sliver of color, of the brightest yellow she had ever seen, comparable only to the markings found on the surface of Veemon's face, standing out amidst the patch of metallic gray so strongly, she would have slapped herself in the head for not even seeing it the first time! It complemented Christopher's coat—the rolled-up sleeve looked like it turned into metal, pooling all its cerulean waters into a tiny orb from which burst a tiny rod of gold.

Something like it was physically possible, but for use as a weapon—one that could have generated such a terrifying screech, how could it be technologically feasible?

The ultimate shield—now a foreboding cannon—shouldn't even exist in the first place! Its mere presence alone seemed to defy all laws of physics, whether they were the laws of the Real World or the Digital. This **thing **emitted an aura that was none but exogenous, like the user that commanded it.

His voice broke the silence, shattering the stupor that overwhelmed Tina beyond the reality that awaited her. "They had no idea what hit them." Blood cloaked the sleeves of his coat, splashes of it streaked across his face. Lurking within those goldenrod eyes and their ominous bluish-white glow was a ruthlessness she had seen only last week, not to mention the madness that must have been nagging at Christopher since yesterday, founded by the guilt Tina perceived so well in Konata's cafe.

"Y-you, you killed them, didn't you?"

A grin spoke for his cogent lunacy.

"_Obliterated_," corrected the blond. "There's nothing left. I made sure of that."

"H-how could— " she fumbled, unable to complete her question.

The message was still clear: _How could you murder good, hard-working people and shatter their families and friends?_

Christopher's rictus appalled her. Even more disturbing was the information provided next. "So what? Did you know, Tina, I am responsible for the lives of thirty **million**?"

"No way," she caught herself murmuring. _T-thirty million?_

"Ever heard of the Philippines?" He took a step towards her. "I had my first battle in its capital—the one that got me started on this whole godf*cking journey.

Another step forward.

"Can you imagine? The **entire** metropolis, turned into rubble. The injured and dying surrounding you, assailing your ears with pleas for help. Babies and children, crying for their lost parents. Countless people bawling like infants, cursing God!

He scoffed. "I even overheard people clamoring about the apocalypse! HA!

"Of course," Chris generously informed her, "you don't know _anything_ about that—the whole disaster took place** years ago** **IN MY HOME WORLD!**"

Tina honestly did not know what else may have escaped his lips if the door in the hallway did not burst open, releasing Yoshino in her sleeping clothes with Lalamon floating right beside her.

Tina Fujieda's eyes widened, horrified at the sight of her younger sister out in the hallway, attracting the attention of the twisted superhuman in this apartment. The ex-Modifier opened her mouth to utter her name, to scream for her to abscond the apartment, or to even beg for Chris's mercy, pleading to whatever humanity was left in him to spare Yoshino the trauma of dealing with the enigma that he was.

She hoped—she prayed so hard—Christopher Van Numen would **at least listen** to the side of himself Veemon liberated from the vindictive ocean of his bestiality, the nonchalant truculence underscoring every action.

These hopes were dashed in an instant, crushed into powder by both Yoshino's innate desire to help others and Christopher's surly aura.

Yoshino, that sweet ten-year old, did not turn to the door and run. No, she faced Chris and, too focused on saving her sister _to even recognize him_, pointed her finger at the blond. "Lalamon, NUT SHOOT!"

Spinning the yellow leaf on her pink head, Lalamon flew towards Chris. Her petite mouth formed an oval, acting as an opening from which countless seeds shot out like a powerful, air-powered rifle.

Christopher did not move.

Why, when it wasn't necessary?

He _allowed_ every single pellet strike its mark. If the situation wasn't so serious and life-threatening, Tina might have even thought of Chris literally taking off his coat, vest, and shirt and then painting his naked chest with a giant bull's-eye.

Every seed erupted into an explosion, which either Lalamon or Yoshino expected to write Christopher off of this scene, an expectation Tina Fujieda knew to be in serious error—Yoshino and Lalamon entered this interrogation without the foreknowledge of his unnatural resilience and power, both enough to fight against six Modifiers and survive when digimon could not, not even in their Adult stage.

A plume of opaque smoke engulfed the attack's epicenter, blanketing the blond devil, obscuring him from sight. But that was all it did. He was unaffected by Lalamon's _Nut Shoot_ and it was likely Christopher simply entertained their last resort.

A pair of dainty hands grabbed Tina, helping her up. "Sis!"

"Y, Yoshino." The ex-soldier stumbled, the leg Christopher touched and tauted before being rudely interrupted by police sirens getting in her way. "You"—she leaned on the sofa's arm for support—"must run."

She couldn't stand knowing the love of her life was so vulnerable! Any second now, and Christopher Van Numen could plausibly emerge from the pillar of smoke and attack—even _kill_ her own sister. If this beast could brutally massacre her neighbors and policemen, it was probable he'd do the same to even a child who wanted nothing more except to save her sister.

"Tina," the young girl said, maintaining the honorific in the use of her name as if the situation wasn't even terrible, "It's okay," she cooed. "It's okay, Lalamon's got 'im taken care of."

Tina shook her head, her crimson hair flailing from side to side. "Don't underestimate him! You have to get out n—

"AAAAAAHH!"

Too late.

An object struck the LCD TV in front of the sofa, the sheer impact not only shattering the screen into a thousand pieces but also causing the expensive machine to crumple in on itself. Cracks even appeared on the wall—and it was made of hollow concrete!

Both Tina and Yoshino turned towards the TV. She never looked at her sister's face, yet Tina knew for a fact Yoshino held a shocked, if not flabbergasted, expression on her face, especially when a flower bud the size of a plush toy was held aloft in a cradle of broken glass and delicate machinery.

Something broke in the ten-year-old when Lalamon's tiny form blurred out of focus for a moment—a sign of impending deletion. "LALAMON!"

Yoshino _abandoned_ Tina Fujieda in a mad dash for her fallen digimon. Tina was not offended in the slightest—the adult was aware she was the mother figure in this family of two—three. Lalamon was the close and devoted sister Tina would never, ever be, sharing her life with Yoshino, before and after school, during every weekend, accompanying her wherever she went. Arguably Lalamon was **everything** in her life, a truth already ostensible in the sweet yet desperate whispers Yoshino uttered, lifting the flower bud from the mechanical crib and cradling her in her own arms.

Christopher Van Numen emerged from _Nut Shoot_'sdissipating mist, ambling towards Tina. Every step he took reeked of flippancy. He had never seen a threat at all in Lalamon, and he was surely taking everything in stride. Tina inched back, staggering on her injured leg during her attempt to take Yoshino and flee. But, just backing away was so hard… so painful. Yet she tried. She tried!

She needed to get away. Tina had to rescue her beloved sister. The ex-soldier saw the expression on Christopher's face darken and twist into a menacing scowl, his goldenrod gaze trained directly at Yoshino, or more specifically, the intimate bond between her and her digimon partner showing itself in this time of crisis.

It was a jealousy Tina did not want to test.

Before the woman could make even so much as a _jolt_ backwards, Chris was already upon her.

Yoshino's voice murmured in the background. "C-C, Christopher? Is, is that you?" her stammers slipped, falling under the shadows of shock and complete astonishment. It hurt Tina to see the little girl and her teary eyes. "W, why…?"

The blond seized Tina by the collar, ignoring the only child in their midst.

"B-b-b-b-but, you, you—you're a n-n-nice—a nice guy!" Yoshino wailed on, "You, you weren't like **this **back at Konata's! A villain!"

Christopher regarded the ex-soldier's sister with a mere glance, and only when his former friend had been mentioned.

That was all. Tina could only look on, ogling the man's face trying to find even an ounce of regret, but Chris remained enigmatic.

"A cold-hearted villain!"

The blond did not retaliate. He absorbed every word like a sponge willingly accepting whatever abuse was dispensed from the hands manipulating it. To dissolve a strong, loving friendship and unleash rampant wickedness upon anyone who so much as _dared_ to obstruct his path, his quest—truly the man had lost his heart.

"Yoshino's the world to you, isn't she?"

Tina regarded the blond with horror. Only something _sinister_ would follow such a line. Her lungs choked when the man professed a confession. "I'll be frank, Tina. Ever since I came to this universe…"

Her eyes widened. It was the worst possible thing he **EVER** considered. Was Christopher so cruel—desperate—he would degrade himself, to go even lower beneath the most despicable scum of human society?

The blond shamelessly admitted harboring, or enduring rather, the unrequited carnal urges—aggravated by the mounting rage and frustration building within him—any human being would deem natural, particularly those of the male breed. It pointed at physical withdrawal, arising from the absence of his beloved, who Tina deduced died recently, if Chris's earlier outburst and the way he longingly spoke of "her" were of any indication. The broken friendship he had with the Digimon of Miracles, in its short, disrupted life, clearly did not quash such feelings.

Pertaining to whether Tina should pity the blond for what he had become, she was indecisive.

When it came to defending her younger sister, she was militant, if not trenchant. "Leave Yoshino out of this!" the former soldier hissed, despite possessing the knowledge such threats were toothless.

Yoshino Fujieda, weeping in place, confused and furious at the horrible direction this otherwise peaceful night had taken, was distant enough to see only his lips move.

That was a good thing, too, as the smirk Tina received in response made her shudder. "Unless you tell me everything I need to know, I **will** rape your 'beloved sister' and grind her slowly into paste **right in front of you**…"

The ex-Modifier parted her lips one more time, making a last ditch attempt at dilapidating the blond's adamance. "I, I can't tell you!"

He cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head as he did so. Chris turned towards Yoshino, the intent in his eye persuading the little girl to back into a wall. Tina, however, snatched his arm before he could even move. "Christopher, so many people will die if you attack R&D. I really can't—

"Then _after _I'm done with Yoshino, I'll charge that tower of theirs head-on," asserted the blond. "_Hundreds_ will fall, and that's **assuming** everything goes smoothly."

"'Assuming_'_?" she parroted.

He turned to Tina, his eyes cold and unflinching, ignoring the pitter patter of rain knocking on their ears—even as the light drizzle turned into a downpour. "Let's just say I don't have full control." A menacing chuckle.

Christopher shoved the former soldier into her couch. "Enough talking." He flashed his teeth, revealing a handsome smile that was as covertly wicked as a madman's. "The show must go on." He turned his back on Tina, his coat disappearing the moment he set his left palm upon it, swathed in a flash of light..

_He… he's really doing it!_

She clenched her fists, helpless, forced to watch the grown man satisfy Chris's lecherous whims. There was absolutely nothing she could—

No.

There was.

There _was_ a way she could spare Yoshino the trauma.

Capitulation.

Even if _she_ would be violated in her sister's place, at the very least, she would've accomplished the deed. Yoshino wasn't just her younger sister—Tina's sentiments towards her had grown, over the years, from one of sisterly love to a strange yet sensible devotion akin to that of a mother and an older sister.

The only reasons Tina did not accede to Christopher's demands right then and there were, as she had stated earlier, the lives of those duty-bound to protect the secrets within the R&D Wing, along with whatever damages incurred during the attack.

Could she live with this responsibility? Could she ever forgive herself for condemning hard-working people, sending Christopher to them and, like a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum, destroy everything until he got what he wanted?

Yet, if he intended to assault the M&A Wing should Tina herself fail as a lead, then for all she knew, he would hurl caution and stealth to the wind and charge into the perimeter with his weapons blazing, expunging the unfortunates sent to face him. It would be a battle that might be far more crippling than a mere infiltration of R&D.

Statistically speaking, the deaths of a hundred are far better than the deaths of a thousand.

Fundamentally speaking, death is death, no matter how many plumeeted into its embrace. Tina would be responsible either way and the only way to stop it all was to find a compromise—only problem was, there was none!

_Damned if you do, damned if you don't._

"EEEK!"

Tina's eyes focused on what was happening before her. Christopher had already pushed Tina into the wall, pinning her like a deranged instinct-driven maniac.

A little longer and her sister might be as dead as the neighbors who tried to do the good.

"_Yoshino's the world to you, isn't she?"_ Christopher's words repeated in her head, mocking her, promulgating accession as the only way she could stop all this. Relent to the demands and provide the information—**limit** unnecessary damage, the waste of lives, by being as thorough as she could.

One more shriek caused Tina to open her mouth, stopping the blond in his tracks.

It slippedout of her mouth so suddenly, so instinctively (in accordance to her motherly nature towards Yoshino), the speaker herself was stupefied to realize the words had come out from **her** mouth

"I'll talk," Tina yielded. "I'll talk." She shut her eyes, trying to deny the reality besieging her. "Just leave her out of this. **Please**, Christopher. I beg you."

"That's more like it." She could imagine a rictus on his face coming to life.

A rough hand closed over her triceps and refused to let go, dragging her away. Purple eyes veered to its owner's direction and noticed she was being brought to the front door, in front of which blood coated the concrete like a puddle of rainwater. "W-where're you taking me?" Tina panicked.

"Somewhere private."

That was the only response she got from Christopher Van Numen as she was abducted straight from her own apartment, led into the cold, black night, drenched in heavy rain. Weightlessness stunned her, making her realize Chris had jumped from the 8th floor of the building while she dangled precariously from his hands.

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[4] Fun fact. The minor, one-time character Wakana Himura is actually a self-insert. Well, _mostly_. For one thing, I am **not** Japanese and obviously, neither is my name. ^^

[5] Expect Part II to be finished in a matter of days. As of writing, it currently stands at 8,000 words and I have three more story segments to write... albeit, long story segments. Daisuke also makes his first appearance in Part II. :) Anyone care to guess how he's gonna show up? Considering how you guys have read my story so far, anyone who's going to speculate is likely to be correct. Heh.

[6] I believe a contested point between fans concerning Hikari is her perceived innocence. Some people may see her as the personification of idealism or some other, related virtue (not to mention someone with an exaggerated dependence on her older brother). Others would defend her and could argue her experience as a fighter in the First (_Adventure_) and the Second _(Zero Two_) generations of the Twelve presupposes her ability to recognize a need to _kill_ someone if the situation demanded it and if there were no other alternatives available.

The anime, in every season aired since _Adventure, _has never explored the idea of utterly destroying human antagonists. _Savers_ (season 5) skims the surface of this concept, but the franchise does not develop it beyond humans aligned with evil. However, I believe deleting digimon who are "too evil to be saved" is completely different from "killing people who oppose you for the sake of their country, their species, their cause", etc. Hikari's kindness and, well, overall sweet personality, is virtually common knowledge among those well-versed with the _Adventure _continuity - I am confident this outlook lends credence to the direction I have taken with the Child of Light.

Of course, this is but my opinion. If you feel the need to give me more information, there's the review button right there. A PM may also suffice.

[7] Truncated responses to reviews:

**Rets**: Why, yes, really, I employed a self-insert. So what? Don't just dismiss its usage as "unprofessional". There are prominent authors in the literary universe who have employed self-inserts and have done so successfully. The author of_ Clockwork Orange_, if you look it up, employed the technique. Obviously, it takes enormous skill (or willpower, to be more precise) to utilize self-insertion without crossing the line.

As for Felicia, well... Taichi himself thought it and found it perplexing. Who knows what she's got planned? :)

**RazenX**: The best thing about having at least _some_ people even bothering to leave comments is how it confirms whether I have accomplished my objectives for the chapters (based on reactions and feedback, positive or otherwise). Anyway, to Christopher's defense, he isn't twisted. Tina really hit home when, in _Psychoanalysis_, she **correctly** assessed his current emotional state and tied it to everything he's been doing since the 18th chapter. You and the other readers of this story may or may not have noticed this already, but there is a distinction being painted between Veemon and Christopher, and expressing this is one of the major reasons why I am giving so much depth into the chapters preceding the DSI Infiltration mission.

Is there no comment on HOW AWESOME Taichi is? Seriously? What, with the security overkill?

Anyway, all in all, good review. It actually helped. Will see you in the next chapter then. :D


	22. Answers (Part II)

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] Roughly **18,770 words** in length on MS Word. A bit longer than my 15K average, but hopefully manageable by my readers.

[2] It's funny how I said, in my previous update, that Part II of _Answers_ was going to be released a few days from Part I. I really meant for it, actually. At that time, two of the five story segments meant for this chapter was already finished and ready for posting, and I could've sworn I only needed 8000 more words to foot the remainder. **And I was sooooo wrong**.

[3] Aside from the descriptive writing that took much of my time, I had also been analyzing an NYSE-listed company simultaneously, and am actually typing my personal report whenever I'm not working on the fic. I may not be working as an analyst at a reputable firm or a fund, but hey, the ideas are responsible for making money for me... over the long run. :P

[4] Remember, if anyone has some feedback on the story, or more importantly, on either my writing style or my portrayal of the canon characters (esp. Hikari, Tailmon, Taichi, Agumon, and Veemon), I highly encourage that person to immortalize that comment in a review _or_ sending me a PM. Any tips for improvement will be administered in the immediate chapters onward - I take quality writing very seriously and will not forgive myself if I produce something inferior, even if it's not a formal report.

[5] Okay, enough rambling. Here is **Part II of _Answers_**. I hope you guys enjoy it.

* * *

Orange.

Bright.

The light blinded him, yet pain was not inflicted.

At the same time, it was invigorating.

The mandarin glow colored his vision, overwhelming the charcoal centers of his red eyes, refusing to let anything enter its territory. Veemon could not move his body, even when the awareness—the feeling—the control!—of his own body increased. He knew at once his arms, blue and _deceptively_ slender, hugged his leathery legs, keeping the knees close to his chest. The Chosen's head was tucked in, forehead touching the caps of his knees.

_What do you want?_ The orange hue seemed to speak. _What are you waiting for?_

The Digimon of Miracles noticed the waning of the light, perceiving the vision it concealed so passionately when its intensity waned. Cracks ran across his eyelids, parting to reveal the ruby-red spheres hiding behind them. He was in a cave.

A vast atrium whose ceiling loomed high above him, where an opening into the afternoon sky waited, far from reach.

Veemon felt small. Not in the feeling of smallness produced by philosophical self-reflection of one's insignificant existence in the world. But in the smallness of his stature. When he cast his crimson gaze upon the cave and its gasping denizens, he knew at once he was young again.

Two feet in height.

Freshly spawned.

Recently unsealed.

Awaiting him were adventures, filled with joyous fights and simple choices, unlike the grim warfare and the moral gray zones devastating his very self in the present day.

Veemon glanced at the young boy staring back at him, several meters away. Those brown eyes were clouded by fear. Then it became astonishment. Then marvelous awe. Veemon recognized the child immediately—the lips on the edges of his muzzle twisted into a slight smile, growing bigger as he began welcoming the thought that the past "ten years" of his life, his last memories, replete with desolation and loneliness, had been nothing more but a dream.

_It's you._

A dream where a war between men and monsters shattered whatever peace deleting BelialVamdemon gifted the world. A dream where his brother, his best friend, and his faithful partner had—for all three were one—betrayed him.

_It's you…_

A dream where the despondency of isolation attacked his soul and drained his mind. A dream where he met someone marred by tragedy and shrouded by mystery, who turned out to be the greatest of liars. The most ruthless of villains.

_IT'S YOU!_

"DAISUKE!" Veemon bounded towards the boy, arms outstretched. He leapt from his floating position, filled with ecstatic bliss. Blissful ecstasy. The rapture rising within his chest could not be defined so thoroughly, even as he struck the floor. The rocks beneath his feet could not obstruct his fated and joyous reunion. It was so visible in the rictus that characterized his elation.

Veemon wanted nothing more but feel once again the bodily warmth of his partner. His brother. His best friend! And he felt it! He felt it all. The resistance from striking Daisuke's torso. ("Whoa!"). The boy staggered backwards, but nonetheless maintained his stance. Veemon snaked his arms around the blue jacket playfully ensnared by the tongues of fire. His legs wrapped themselves around Daisuke's waist, locking the digimon to the Chosen Child.

Thick tail wagging from an exhilarating euphoria, Veemon could not help but give the young Daisuke the longest and slimiest lick he could muster, leaving behind disgustingly viscous globs of spit. He knew his partner would hate it, especially in front of Hikari and her brother, but the sheer glee upon seeing him after that horrible, horrible nightmare entitled the dragon to it.

When he was done, he squeezed tight and buried his smiling muzzle on the fur circling its collar. _We're together again_, he was thinking, his grip tightening. "I'm never letting you go, Daisuke. I swear…"

Veemon opened his eyes to gaze closely into Daisuke's face (and lick it again) as if he was seeing a beloved friend for the first time in years, or a long, lost brother who had thought to have been dead for so long it felt like a decade.

Had he kept his eyeballs shut, the Digimon of Miracles might never realize **this** was the dream, and the nightmare he had just escaped from was reality at its very worst.

No sooner had those scarlet eyes fluttered and revealed themselves to the world did he feel something strike his white, smooth-textured chest. Veemon gaped in horror, staring back at his brother, stupefied by the act.

He was further stupefied by the sudden change in his human half. No longer was the Child of Miracles a boy mired in preadolescence, obsessed over a girl whose heart was dead set on another. In the boy's place stood an eighteen year-old version of him, face chiseled by maturity. Those russet strands Daisuke called hair exploded wildly from his head—surprisingly complementing the structure of his facial bones with its pattern and shoulder length.

Truly befitting of a renegade, of the Inheritor of Courage and Friendship, of the one Veemon called his best friend.

_No._

It was only now he noticed they were no longer in a cave. They were in a field. They were completely alone. Just him. Just Veemon. Just the two of them together. Brothers and life partners both.

_No._

Even Veemon was not spared by the unseen passage of time. Thanks to a growth spurt worth a foot, although Daisuke still towered high above him, at least Veemon was eye to eye with his waist.

The increased height—and the increased reach of his deceivingly lean arms—contributed nothing to his efforts in reaching Daisuke's scarlet, unbuttoned vest as he sailed through the air, flying farther and farther away. Veemon wished he'd hit a tree, but no such respite came to his rescue, if that wasn't already apparent in the fact his best friend was so far he was but a nearly a speck in the distance. "Oof!" he unceremoniously landed on the grass.

"Don't do this!" he yelled, oblvious to the fact this was all a dream, ignorant of how this had already happened three years ago. Then he bolted, dashing towards Daisuke as fast as he could.

Cursing the exhaustion, plowing through every huff and puff his lungs gave out with every stride, "**DON'T DO THIS!**" He nearly choked on his own voice.

Despite his greatest efforts, Daisuke remained distant. Even though his vision was not perfect, Veemon could easily perceive the smile being drawn on his partner's face. A smile he recognized too clearly. A smile _remembered_ in vivid detail.

A smile graced by melancholy.

A smile emboldened by hesistant determination.

Then Daisuke sauntered towards the television stationed ten steps away from his beloved partner. It was a relaxed walk, distinguished by the slow shuffles his rubber shoes paced across the field. From his perspective, it was a mere stroll, finished in a quick and easy eight seconds.

From Veemon's eyes, every step was like the passage of an hour. "DAISUKE!" the blue dragon called, lungs channeling desperation into the voice. Tears as spherical as his own head fell from his eyes, sadness coating his exhaled breaths.

"TAKE ME WITH YOU!" he was begging. Pleading for Daisuke to stay. How could he abandon him so callously? After all they have been through? After all the mutual squabbles they've ever had? After all the years of living together in one room? "**PLEASE!**"

The only good his supplications did was seize the Chosen Child's attention while towards the television screen he raised a gloved hand, tightly gripping a blue device that fit excellently in his palm. Light inundated the monitor, as it eventually consumed Daisuke's body.

Why won't he stop? Why won't he listen? "DAAAAAIIIISSSUUUKKKEEEE!"

Hearing his own name, Daisuke Motomiya gazed back at Veemon, lips curled into one last smrik, teeth bared in a happy grin stained with a regret easily associated to his own.

Veemon's hand shot out the moment he closed the distance, the moment he was a few **feet** away. It only went through the air, with the pallid silhouette of his brother's body disappearing into the television's monitor. Never to be seen again. In all this time, he had seen the man mouth some parting words. Words that were soundless to his ears, yet filled to the brim with clarity to his senses and instincts.

_"I love you, bro."_

It was meant to reassure and console the dragon. They did neither. Veemon clutched his head, drowning in sorrow. He failed to stop Daisuke. He failed! The worst of it all was, this wasn't the first time it happened.

By now, he realized this was a dream. Weren't dreams supposed to be under your control? Catering to your every whim in spite of all its randomness? How could he fail to catch Daisuke even by the scruff of his jacket **in his dreams**?

.

.

This was a nightmare. A terrible nightmare that refused to release Veemon from the maelstrom of fury, grief, and disappointment, even as he refused to accept this despicable fate, even as he tried to reject the circumstances and wake up, shutting his eyes, trying to return to the waking world.

It was all in vain. Veemon was withheld from reality, left screaming in the fantasy world that pinioned him within.

As if to mock him, the deep voice of Golemon made itself known, reverberating in the darkness Veemon secluded himself in. _"Why aren't your human halves even here?"_ derided the permeating voice, pervading his ears and mind.

_"What is this 'Daisuke' doing for you?"_ The name of his beloved partner was spat with strong animosity and disdain.

Veemon tried so hard to defend him! "He, he's doing his best." He struggled to find his voice. Why was it quivering in the wake of this booming, disembodied speaker? Why couldn't he find the same poise he pulled from within mere seconds before the Adult digimon died shielding him from grenades? "Daisuke's—

"**DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!**" shrieked Golemon's floating roar, echoing in his ears, causing a rumble in his lungs.

The scornful presence vanished and abandoned the digimon to his despair. Tears continued to flow down his muzzle, falling to whatever his eyelids concealed from him.

Not even the saltwater could dampen the horrifying reality Tailmon narrated to him in a hushed whisper. _"Daisuke disappeared exactly one month before the war began." _It was as if the white cat's muzzle was right next to his own. _"We all thought he died."_

He had to resist. _Resist, Veemon! Resist! _Rein the nightmare under control, he swore to himself. His attempt to muster power and courage in his heart and voice was futile. "N-no," fired the stutter, recalcitrant to the end—he wasn't going to succumb. He wasn't capitulating to pessimism and despair!

Veemon was the Digimon of Miracles. His very presence enamored Lady Luck itself!

"Daisuke'll come back. He's my partner!"

Neither Tailmon nor Golemon responded. He half expected Stingmon or Commandramon to take their place, but instead, he remained in darkness, floating in its bosom, trapped in an endless nightmare with no way of returning to reality. "He's coming back," he tried to calm himself, persisting to put vigor and cheer back into his diminishing spirits. "He's coming back." He sniffled, feeling another teardrop fall. "D-d, Daisuke…"

The tears wouldn't stop. His voice wouldn't cease their endless quivers. "p-p, prom"—only then did Veemon realize something curled around his entire body. Something warm.

Something comforting.

A calloused, but soft palm stroked the back of his head, its digits playing with his conical ears, even as it pressed his head into soft fabric, worn over a flat, muscle-toned chest. The nose hidden next to his nose-horn detected the whiff of the endless ocean. He took it in, letting tranquility wash over him as if all the sadness and dejection he had just been through was dirt that had to be washed away. Filth to be tossed. Malice to be purified.

Veemon slowly opened his eyes, finding himself in a familiar room, painted cobalt. He was in the satellite base, at the Great Forest. In his own room, no less. He could recognize his bed and his wooden door anywhere, although for some reason it visibly lacked all the etches and futile self-assurances he had scribbled and engraved on the walls during the three years of his and Daisuke's separation in a state of despondency.

Someone cradled his body in a firm embrace. Veemon didn't want to look, fearing for the person to turn into a frightening monster that would further ridicule him and perpetuate his torment.

Curiosity, like the cat it murdered so coldly, nagged at the dragon until he complied and lifted up his eyes. "D, daisuke?" he croaked, expecting to see brown eyes, the chiseled face of his partner, and even the long, spiky hair. The goggles would verify the identity like no other piece of information.

Instead, he found himself staring into the face of another human, whose appearance was young and strong, like an eighteen-year-old teen. The sight of the face left Veemon appalled.

He saw the countenance of Christopher Van Numen centimeters before his eyes, the visage of he who betrayed Veemon so thoroughly without an ounce of regret in his heart, he who threatened to murder his friends and relatives for the sake of information alone. The Digimon of Miracles snarled and was about to ram his head into this cretinous son of a b*tch for this gross attempt at treachery and deceit when he discovered that all he had in common with the blond devil was the face.

Everything else was different. Woken up by the growl, russet orbs, revealed from the brown films shielding them during slumber, stared back at Veemon. Hair as black as ravens fell down his scalp, smooth, short, and cut coarsely. His clothes were nothing special, clearly mundane in the eyes of the dragon digimon. Even Daisuke's jacket was more eye-catching than his olive-green polo. Although the blue dragon displayed much aggression, the hands—the arms—that circled his body stilled themselves, refusing to budge, giving him a hug tighter than anything he had ever received in his waking life.

The strength of this loving gesture clearly marked the level of loyalty and care the demon's lookalike devoted to him. It was one that spoke of a conviction to stay by his side, to never leave him the way Daisuke had with the (apparently logical) intent of keeping him safe. To Veemon, the truth was that Daisuke should have never abandoned him, but instead assumed the responsibility of actively protecting his digimon brother from humans seeking either his suppression or his death.

Then, all thoughts of this person being Christopher's doppelganger were dispelled. Veemon had seen the gold medallion dangling from his neck. The same medallion perpetually borne by the blond. The man who embraced Veemon like he was the most precious jewel in the entire world was none but the same man who, just hours ago, coldly and mercilessly discarded their short—but strong—friendship in such a way it left him devastated.

As if privy to his disturbing ruminations, Christopher opened his mouth to speak. Like Daisuke before him, not a single word came out. Veemon, nonetheless, understood the gist—the substance—of his noiseless words. _"I won't leave you,"_ came the silent emphasis, his hold tightening as he spoke. _"I'll **never** abandon you."_

One of the hands coiled around his entire body stroked the side of his muzzle. _"Because you're the closest friend I have."_ Its owner brought his legs to the blue dragon's back and tail, encasing him more in Chris's grasp. _"Because you're the only one I've got." _For that moment, and _since_ that moment, Veemon felt the weight on his chest drop, freeing him from his dejection. He was… happier. It comforted the Chosen to know someone needed him like this, to know someone was paying such close attention to him, and moreover, keeping him so close he refused to let go at all costs.

Veemon knew this was not Daisuke. He knew it was not his destined partner. He knew this… kind version of Christopher would never replace his brother. Still, he knew a close friendship with him would one day be as strong as the bond he shared with the Chosen Child, even if it was so different from what the Harmonious Ones had provided him.

Urged to reply by the swelling torrent of his comforted spirit, Veemon raised his arms and hugged the person he thought he'd slam into the floor using a suplex if he ever got him in this position. The digimon's tail kept swishing from one side to the other despite the physical boundaries made by the human's folded legs. For minutes, they remained in this affectionate depiction of friendship and camaraderie, one that could be easily mistaken by outsiders for a demented form of intimacy expressed only by the insane or the eccentric.

Spared from misery, Veemon was so relieved and content he had no idea how much time had passed in this dream-turned-nightmare-turned-dream-again. Instead of ruminating on how long he had actually been asleep in the waking world (considering he only had three hours at most prior to the infiltration mission), the Digimon of Miracles flexed his muscles and squeezed Chris as tightly as he could, like a friend he could never bear to release from his hold, out of fear for this to have been temporary, and out of a deep-seated desire to have a close friend right beside him.

"Thank you," his muzzle delivered the soft articulation, its owner rubbing it tenderly on the blue-striped polo Chris wore. As if he had been Daisuke. "You don't know how much this means to me, Christopher…"

A brief but sudden rise within the man's chest disrupted him from his ease. Veemon had sensed a chuckle. An amused one, for sure. He glanced up at him. "What did you say?" the dragon asked, believing so fervently the kind version of Chris had said something.

Smiling, Chris's lips parted and moved, as if words were being—and had been—spoken. Once more, nothing registered in his ears. Yet the laws of physics had been defiled. Spat upon. As it always happens in the realm of dreams and illusions. _"Don't call me 'Christopher'."_

"Huh?" Veemon's snout contorted into a bewildered expression. "Why?"

No words were said, still he heard.. _"I want you to use something else… please."_

Logic would tell anyone it was a figment of his imagination. A product of dreams, manufactured by the subconscious, probably in an effort to transform into his beloved, long lost brother-and-partner Daisuke Motomiya within the next minute.

Though he was aware it was a dream and subscribed to this line of thinking, Veemon still believed this person was Christopher Van Numen. Perhaps, as he was supposed to be, torn asunder from the heartless monster he was in reality.

Perhaps, Veemon felt guilty over his decision to feign slumber last night in that motel room, when the distressed persona Christopher buried deep within himself surfaced beyond the barriers his psyche industriously worked to maintain. Yes, perhaps it was indeed guilt, chastising him for not leaping out of the bed, strolling to the man's side, and providing emotional support in an attempt to bring a smile to that face as he was wont to do with everyone, most especially those he considered close.

Only two people qualified for this honorable distinction. The first was Daisuke. The second was Christopher. Both had lost this status the moment they betrayed him—the first by rationalized desertion, and the second by outright manipulation.

Reality hid itself deep in the recesses of his subconscious when Veemon unknowingly played along, starting with a boyish gasp. "Oh?" he verbalized in wonder. Like the cat it slaughtered, curiosity came upon Veemon and abducted the dragon. "Soooooo, what is it then?" the enunciated chirp exited his pallid muzzle.

This was the part when Christopher Van Numen became Daisuke Motomiya, murmuring the Chosen Child's name as his own. This was the part when, in the end, Veemon would be reunited with his human half and live onward with life, not as brothers of the same flesh and blood, but brothers born by mutual trials and tribulations.

Betraying his expectations, Chris' raven-haired self grinned. _"You already know half of it, Vee."_ Those brown spheres that were his eyes cast a wary glance around the plain, cobalt room, checking for any intruders and eavesdroppers before he resumed the conversation, beginning by closing the gap between them and Veemon's scarlet eyes.

_"Only my **real** friends know it,"_ the imaginary Chris admitted, his mouth moving, failing to pronounce even incoherent syllables like it was mute. Like his tongue had been cut off. _"I can trust you with my secret, can I?"_

To Veemon, this serene moment between friends—between the Giver and the Receiver of secrets unknown to the vast universe—was a scene written by his subconscious, one in which he acted so passionately, perhaps out of his strong desire to escape from the grim truth of his loneliness.

It was so surreal and so removed from reality, the Digimon of Miracles never considered, let alone grasp, the truth behind this charade of names, its deep roots to reality. As such, he would never perceive the fact, however portentous and creepy it was, that his dreams had been spot on. That they penetrated the blond's illusion of wanton malevolence, carving jagged cracks into his deepest secrets, known only to those who were now gone from the realm of the living.

Of course, that did not mean the seeds of curiosity, sown into Veemon's mind from this point onward, would fail to germinate if and when the appropriate time arrived.

The blue dragon, obeying the screenplay of his fantasies without question, nodded, excited to learn something only a privileged few have known. "You can count on me!" he twittered, back to his usual self.

Playful.

Cheery.

Adorable.

.

.

Out of mischief and closeness, he intended to start addressing the raven-haired Chris with whatever name he was going to suggest (whatever it was, Veemon thought, it probably wasn't _that_ special anyway!). He might have drawn a "fitting" appellation from it, if it weren't for the events that happened next.

Like a God that decided enough was enough, for Veemon had his respite and it was time for the show to proceed, a grotesque tendril skewered the man from behind. It emerged menacingly from his chest, pulsating with an aura that could've been described as evil and nothing more. The sheer force of the surprise attack knocked Veemon away. "Christopher!" he cried out, worried.

The dragon's chest throbbed upon seeing all the blood, the urge to vomit difficult to resist.

Bright scarlet swathed the walls of the room, staining everything within sight. Veemon was not spared; he had been painted in fresh liquid as red as his very own eyes. A gruesome scene unfolded before him, featuring the fresh corpse of Christopher Van Numen convulsing violently, the kind, russet irises rolling upwards until they were eerily white. The monstrous tentacle that pierced the man's temple played with the cadaver with utter disrespect for the body.

It was sacrilege!

Despite the lifeless limp exuded by his friend's corpse, until now Veemon believed against all odds he was still alive, much as he believed he and Daisuke would reunite one day. "Chris!" he yelled.

It was happening again.

It was happening **again**.

He was going to lose another friend.

There were few things that would completely unnerve Veemon and inflict him with mental and psychological trauma strong enough to render him incapacitated. One of them was the sight of Daisuke Motomiya groveling before the feet of his enemies, begging for mercy—it may have taken place long ago, but the Chosen's memory never let him forget it, even after the antagonist who coerced Daisuke into that position became his best friend, even after so much time has passed it was worth being discarded into the recesses of history, never to surface.

After all, he was the one who watched his partner go through that cruel torture. He was the one who had to comply with the order to further debase his human half—to push that spiky head into the ground with his own three-toed foot. The helplessness he felt _while_ it was happening scarred him, and it contributed to his relentless drive to ensure nothing like it ever happened again.

Perhaps that was why Veemon, during the good ol' days, received all those boosts in power.

Perhaps that was why he strived to meet his reputation as the Digimon of Miracles and Lady Luck's prostitute, during and after.

Maybe, just maybe, this feeling of helplessness was why he continued to fight for the promise he had made with Daisuke three years ago even as the cold truth exploded around him… and why he refused to believe that Christopher—the _kind_ Christopher in this world of dreams (for he knew the real person was a jerk who deserved none of his concern)—was still alive.

This was a dream, he repeated, trying to reassure himself, wanting no more but to control the nightmare.

Dreams were supposed to be in his control, to unfold in accordance to the whims of his subconscious.

Litanies of self-reassurances had been made, and still he felt his hands quake—his heartbeats thunder in his ears—at the sight of the, the **THING **that impaled the raven-haired man.

The repulsive countenance of BelialVamdemon was nothing in comparison to this… whatever it was! It was an ebony spike, composed of a glistening nothingness, throbbing with malice and intent. For all intents and purposes, it seemed _alive_, programmed to _seek and **kill**_.

It had already swallowed all the vital organs present in the kind Christopher's chest, obliterating a considerable portion of his torso. Even so, Veemon bolted towards it, ignoring his common sense, ignoring all logic, believing he was still alive, believing the dream wouldn't kill him in an act cruel to the man and cruel to the dragonic dreamer's heart.

The liters of blood splattered across the walls seemed to glow menacingly, emitting the same color he once reveled in at the time of his release from the seal that was the Digimental of Courage.

_Didn't you want this? _

It seemed to speak, to mock, to ridicule.

_Weren't you waiting for revenge? For justice?_

Veemon had no idea what to do in this situation. Right now, anything was better than nothing! He shook the voices away and took a few steps forward, each rapid and quick.

Before he knew it the grotesque thorn bubbled… and burst like a balloon, spreading its own contents all over the corpse. The limp body of the man was covered in tangible darkness, encased within the vengeful spirit of malevolence.

"NO!" Veemon spat, reaching for the pulsing shadow that consumed his friend.

He remembered the last time he extended his hand like this. Its target was so far, never approaching his desperate grasp no matter how much he ran, no matter how fast he dashed. This asymptotic limit was no longer a problem—the laws of physics and the common sense discerned by his own eyes obeyed his will, bringing the digimon dreamer to the body's side. Veemon did not hesitate to grip what used to be the striped polo.

His mind was filled with thoughts of how the shadow would feel like liquid, or a viscous, oily fluid marked by a severe plunge in temperature. Those thoughts were instantly shattered the moment his short, rather useless claws struck something hard.

Something as black as night.

It was a breastplate.

_Eh?_

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

A force invisible to his very eyes thumped the blue dragon, pummeling him towards the wall several feet behind him. The sheer power squeezed all the air from his lungs.

"W, what hap, happened," he groaned, struggling to resist the pain and open his eyes to catch a glimpse of who attacked him like that, why the voice had matured to that of an adult's, and more importantly, why it sounded **so familiar**. _It, it can't be…_

One second was all he needed. The goldenrod eyes were unmistakable, as were the blond hair, its very style defying gravity. Christopher Van Numen, as Veemon knew him, stood in place of his kind phantom. All the mundane clothes he had worn became the bizarre, exogenous garments he normally sported. He eyed the gold medallion dangling in his neck. It had become more mesmerizing than it had been a few seconds earlier, beating so vigorously it was unnatural. The vibrant green was accentuated so much the very colors were being drained from the room!

"Goddamn lizard," Veemon heard Chris murmur. Pain flared throughout his entire body, searing heat burning all over.

His stomach. His back.

His legs. His arms.

Even one side of his waist!

It felt like he was being steamed alive like the powerless lobster destined for gustatory consumption. His very innards were being cooked, his own blood boiling, his skin trying so hard to cool the torrid heat using sweatdrops that evaporated the moment they escaped his microscopic pores.

Veemon bit his tongue, unwilling to succumb to the burning pain and shriek at the top of his lungs. He swiveled his head, desiring nothing except the very source of his agony.

The source of it all was so unreal it was irrefutable proof of the unreal chimera deluding the tortured dreamer.

Spears had been run throughout his entire body. Lances as pale as the stars, as white as the shining sun in the sky, emitting heat so strong their victims would die from it within minutes. Veemon struggled to move and escape, only to discover he had been rendered stationary by this prison. The blinding needles, made from light itself, had been endowed with tangibility seen only in the realms of fantasy and imagination.

The two conical ears, drooped and flaccid from weakness, twitched and moved at the sound of footsteps assaulting them from the front. Christopher Van Numen was clothed in a terrifying glory. Veemon's red eyes saw the DITE in Chris's right hand, extended to reveal the intimidating spatha the Chosen had once wielded with skill befitting a close combat fighter.

The crimson circles shrunk, in absolute trepidation, when he witnessed the Realm Scanner split from the middle, revealing a small cannon in its depths. The Digimon of Miracles **had never seen** the bracer do this, not during the short time he had known the blond.

Whatever it was, the weapon was trained on him. A foreboding green—verdant green, the brightest and most radiant his eyes would ever lay their gaze on—collected within the barrel.

It was the last thing he was going to see.

Fright bleached Veemon. "W, we're, we're friends," he tried to remind Christopher, to make him realize what he was doing. "Christopher, don't…"

He wasn't listening.

"Don't do this," croaked Veemon. Tears commenced their slow cascade down his muzzle.

He wasn't listening.

"DON'T DO THIS!" he screamed.

What happened to that raven-haired teenager? What was that **thing** that transmogrified the boy into cruelty incarnate? Why couldn't he recall anything?

Didn't he say he was going to stay by his side?

To never leave him?

Didn't he call Veemon his closest friend?

The chain of thoughts was brusquely interrupted. "You're always getting in my way," the murmur was audible.

Veemon appealed one last time, thrashing, trying to break free from the needles of light. "WE'RE FRIENDS!"

A high-pitched whine deafened his ears. Green light overwhelmed his sight.

**HE WASN'T LISTENING!** "DIE FOR ALL I CARE!"

"WE'RE FFFFRRRRIIIEEEENNNDDDDSSSS!"

* * *

"Ooof!"

Veemon's entire body ached, his tail hurting badly from the fall.

Blue eyelids bloomed, revealing the crimson eyes they concealed. The dragon's vision was blurry at first, regaining focus as the seconds passed, as he acclimated to the darkness of his room once more. The life-sized Chibimon doll was right in front of his muzzle, its cute form staring at his own muzzle the way the _real_ Chibimon, once upon a time, ogled his human half's slumbering form when he was too restless to sleep.

The Chosen shook his head and sat up, resting his back on the side of the bed. He rubbed his tail, slightly wincing. "Yat, tatata…" _What just happened?_

That's when he remembered. It was all a dream.

A dream.

None of it had been real.

Yet felt so much like reality.

None of it ever was.

Veemon swore all of it _were_.

A nightmare, he told himself. A vicious nightmare a notch higher than most. _One of the worst **ever**._ Veemon could feel his heart throbbing, the tingling sensation of longing still tugging at his very soul. He had seen Daisuke again, sadly through the lens of a memory that made Veemon wish so many times he could turn back time and change everything.

The timing couldn't have been better—it was an ironclad reminder of the detestable perfidy the Child of Miracles committed. A betrayal. A severing of the partnership that bonded them together, of the friendship that joined digimon and Chosen Child. Despite his limitless yearning for Daisuke, Veemon knew—oh yes, he knew, perhaps repressed deep in his subconscious—his personal feelings and Daisuke's selfless justifications would never matter in the eyes of the Harmonious Ones, of the sovereign entities governing them. Whether they were one or multiple.

Shoving away one's own partner, _even for their sake_, was unforgivable and treacherous.

Besides a cold reminder of his past, his dream was also a knife. A sharp edge that cut him and reopened the raw wounds worn by his heart, slicing him with the depiction of Christopher Van Numen, and in a manner that instigated questions one after another.

Why did he look so **different** in his first appearance? Veemon had always known the blond to be, obviously, blond, not to mention a bit pale, with a skin complexion whiter than most Asians, one that suited his crop.

In absolutely none of his waking memories had Christopher ever had something so mundane as black to cover his head. The compassionate and innocent russet not once filled those inimitable goldenrod pools dripping in glacial savagery. Never! Difficulty chose to be elusive when Veemon reached into his memories of this bizarre, lucid dream. Surprise went in its stead, ambushing the Digimon of Miracles when he visualized how this odd, strangely gentler version of his former friend—if only _that _was the reality, for he despised loneliness with a passion—and discovered he **seemed younger** than the blond who manipulated him so callously.

At ten years of age, Veemon had lived his life long enough to know dreams were influenced by the subconscious, by one's innermost fears, regrets, and wishes, by one's fickle imagination. That nightmare _definitely _confirmed the pain of Daisuke's desertion, and for sure, the part where Chris treated him with love, one analogous to that between the best of friends, corroborated Veemon's innermost desire to have someone who would never leave him and _always _consider him first before anything else. _Sooo_, he thought, _just **where** did the other details come from?_

Aside from the way he was repelled and immobilized by the transmogrified human, the conversation they had prior to his sudden metamorphosis into the blond he knew from real life stood out the most. His thoughts kept dwelling on it: a secret known only to his innermost circle, one he would **willingly** share with the blue dragon.

Was it all truly a figment of Veemon's imagination?

The kindness? The stalwart devotion? The secret? The vast nothingness that pierced his chest? Even the deadly cannon sealed within the Realm Scanner?

Were they all conjured by his subconscious? Or did each of them possess some basis in reality?

What did these mean?

The blue dragon pressed his temples, both just below the bases of his long, conical ears, and shook his head. _It's pointless!_ He scolded himself. "He's not a friend," Veemon hissed. _Remember what Tailmon said._ "Never was, never will!"

Despite the strong desire to ignore the questions his dream—nightmare—brought up, he could not envision the dark emptiness he would always summon back in the Digital World, whenever he pined for his human half, for his partner. The impenetrable void that always pacified the agitation rampaging his mind.

He couldn't invoke it. Neither could he cease thinking.

Perhaps keeping himself busy would work, he thought, and that was _exactly_ what he did the next minute.

Veemon glanced up at the wall clock. It was about forty minutes before three, before their mission commenced. _I should check my things._

He reached for the buckle securing the nylon baldric. Producing a sharp snap, the Digimon of Miracles stripped off his utility belt and spread it out on the floor, consumed by the intention to inspect its pockets' contents, one by one.

Eight pouches lined the baldric, each as charcoal as the synthetic material from which it hung. One of them, the lowest, had the honor of being his sole firearm's holster. Blue hands approached the first pouch and pulled out a small stash of medical supplies. These items were mostly comprised of liquid bandages, gauze, painkillers, and antiseptic, all produced in the Digital World, under Joe's supervision, and designed for rudimentary first aid.

Veemon swore by the fruits of Joe Kido's research. Being the most respected figure in the field of Digital Medicine—despite being unlicensed (thanks to the DSI)—certainly contributed to their efficacy.

_Meds… check._

The second pouch contained three packets of ready-to-eat meals. Military rations prepared straight from the kitchens of the Satellite Base. While the human version possessed an incredible reputation for tasting like rough cardboard, the rations made within the Digital World were, for the Chosen, quite tasty. Veemon's palate welcomed them, even deemed them comparable to a few traditionally prepared dishes his tongue would bathe itself in. During the seven years spent growing up with the Motomiyas, of course.

Characteristics embedded in the programming of each item preserved the flavor and extended the rations' life span. A combination of Koushirou's knowledge in programming and, surprisingly, Ken's _amazing_ ability to concoct delicious recipes using whatever anyone could get their hands on, the ready-to-eat meals were common throughout the territories controlled by the Tactician, manufactured en masse.

_Got enough food for three._

His scarlet eyes stared at the remaining four pockets. Veemon knew what _should_ be in three of them: box magazines containing ten .357 SIG bullets each, every cartridge loaded meticulously by the dragon's two hands. Every pouch carried a couple of magazines. (The fourth contained the explosives necessary to destroy the Digital Dive System.)

As Commandramon had taught him, Veemon flipped each pocket open, taking out the magazines it carried within. Like a seasoned professional, the Chosen thoroughly examined the small box, stares fixed upon the spring found at the bottom. At random, the digimon popped bullets out, testing the spring. He didn't want his precious gun jamming at a critical moment just because he forgot to check his mags—he also needed to confirm every clip had ten rounds.

Undergoing the motions typical of a pre-battle check-up succeeded in getting Veemon's mind off the sadness of Daisuke's justified abandonment, in distracting him from the thought of Christopher Van Numen, as well as every nagging question related to him.

Keeping oneself busy was one of the most common methods of moving forward from a hideous misfortune, whether traumatic or terribly painful. Veemon was glad to know it was working, shifting the thoughts of his mind towards the mission—which only served to frighten him. The three of them were infiltrating the DSI's headquarters, bringing the fight straight to the belly of the beast, to the center of the enemy stronghold, bypassing every defense they had in Shinjuku by using a secret tunnel accessible from the noxious sewers nearby.

They were going to face an innumerable amount of soldiers, he was cocksure. Many of them were probably veterans. Even more were grunts and low-level soldiers, impatient for a moment's taste of glory. All were probably armed with rifles, shotguns, and firearms stronger than anything either he or Hikari brought with them. _Better armored, too_, his head mused.

Like insignificant souls willingly throwing themselves into a hellish purgatory to attack a smirking god of malice, Hikari, Tailmon, and Veemon himself were rushing into the M&A Wing without a lot of time to plan, and—his own anxiety grew when he realized this—without much information on the subterranean world underneath the skyscraper.

They were outgunned and outnumbered.

Even if Tailmon evolved, the Perfect-level Angewomon couldn't possibly stand a chance against them.

_Especially_ if they ended up meeting the Modifiers in battle.

These thoughts stirred the wishes he always made whenever he was caught in a pinch, spawning the desire to bask in the light of evolution. How he missed it, feeling the power reinvigorating his body, changing his very form in an instant, all while establishing—invoking a deep connection with his partner, one that words could never describe. _If only Daisuke was here_, he thought.

Another wish popped into his head. One that wasn't supposed to be. One that made his ears droop in disappointment and sadness. _I wish Chris helped us…_

Banishing the stray thought with a terse huff, he pried the third pouch open, his hands groping inside until they grasped the thin, lengthy box of ten bullets.

.

.

A cool surface met Veemon's fingers, taking the five digits by surprise. They traversed a long, curved figure, too long and too dense to contain ammunition. Too smooth, for that matter—at least a few ridges and shallow dips were present along the shaft of the hollow, translucent box.

It, felt…

It felt familiar.

"N, no way," the Chosen stuttered. He hastened to extract the object, wrapping his fingers around it. "It can't—

Whatever words were on the tip of Veemon's tongue vanished when he glanced down. The sight of a solid block of metal, as sable as the blackest night, stoked the burning feeling of wonder within him. With it the overwhelming heat of confusion was regaled.

The dragon did not have to examine the slab closely to know what it was. "The DITE," he mouthed the word slowly, not realizing what he said until he heard it ring in his ears.

The DITE.

A wedge of unkown make that, through will alone, transformed into a sword whose blade was as light as a feather yet imbued with so much power every slash would, Veemon was certain, cleave through blue Chrome Digizoid without a problem and simultaneously hurl a potent gust of wind at whoever was unfortunate enough to stand directly in front of its user,

_Restoration_, passed his mental recitation.

It reacted in less than a second. One moment it was a bar of metal, dimpled on one side. The next, an ebon spatha was in its place, its length of three feet almost matching his height. Veemon's crimson eyes ogled the sword in its full glory, his free hand caressing the deadly blade. He went so far as to _bite_ its edge, clenching his teeth as hard as he could so he could crack it.

As if he doubted it was the real thing, despite the solid evidence running against his suspicions, for Veemon **KNEW **this fantastic weapon was once held by Christopher Van Numen, often brandished in a terrifying proficiency. A weapon, he too, had learned to wield just last week.

Whatever progress Veemon had made in forgetting his dream and everything it stirred retarded **immediately**. He relapsed into perplexity, thoughts obsessing over the possession of the black sword.

_When did I get this?_

It was the very first thing that boomed in his head, astounding the blue dragon for almost a minute—despite his impeccable recall, the Digimon of Miracles could **not** recall slipping the DITE into his utility belt. Not yesterday. Definitely not during the week following the Midnight Assault.

Veemon spent the next thirty seconds cogitating over this marvelous acquisition, opening a door at its conclusion, which returned the Chosen to the scene that, to this very second, continued to inflict painful wounds on his heart. _He snuck it in!_ Right before the second the blond _threw_ the baldric at its rightful owner with what Veemon construed to be the intent to split his skull. Only sleight of hand and the blond's talent for impossible speeds must have concealed the fact he divested a pouch of its two magazines and swapped them with the compressed spatha.

_Remember what Tailmon said_, he told himself.

"It never existed in the first place," he uttered the reminder. "He played you for a fool, Veemon, treating you like"—red eyes gazed down, filling his vision with the expanded sword.

No matter how many times he repeated Tailmon's assertion, how many times he insisted the blond was using him, exploiting his sentimentality and yearning for friendship, manipulating him without regard for his own feelings, he couldn't help but be **skeptical** of EVERYTHING he was told.

The cleansing doubt was not the only thing that washed over him. A knot of happiness fluttered inside his spirit, for in Veemon's hands was proof irrefutable: the friendship had been real. It **had** to be! Christopher wouldn't give Veemon a weapon like this if he never gave a damn about him.

Veemon was up on his feet, about to march to Hikari and Tailmon's room to show off his discovery when he stopped—hesitated.

Renewing the argument with Tailmon was going to be useless, he realized. The Digimon of Light was so convinced of Christopher's tendency to manipulate others, she would somehow formulate a counterattack and leave him hanging, feeling stupid and immature. It did not help that Veemon, owing to the trauma of Daisuke's actions and the three long years spent alone, now had a tendency to develop persistent and _exaggerated_ attachments to those who showed the slightest bit of kindness to him, who gave him the impression they **wanted** him around and sought a lasting friendship with the Chosen.

A second insight, this one more harrowing than the first, overtook the blue dragon, destroying the relaxing feeling of respite rising from the thoughts that the blond was worried for him.

It didn't matter how joyful he was to have found the DITE in his possession. The fact remained the blond **still** denounced their friendship and crushed both his heart and trust to the point he _drowned_ in pain and anguish until Tailmon (and Hikari) rescued him from the murky waters of depression.

Mantarou's message to Hikari would not let him be, jogging Veemon's memory about the sins he committed after he absconded the chamber and left the family of the Chosen Children to the blond's mercy. He pulled a gun on the group, firing it a few times, almost killing Miyako's brother and Koushirou's stepdad in the process. On top of that Chris _permanently_ crippled Ken Ichijouji's father!

Christopher Van Numen was **nothing** like Daisuke. The Child of Miracles would never discard for anything the long relationship he had with Veemon for years—brotherly, dutiful, and platonic—without a second thought or without a promise to return, an oath to be fulfilled someday.

The worst part of it was, Chris executed every single deed **for the sake of a rock**. The blond acted out of selfishness and threw away everything, dropping it all, for something Veemon did not see the value of. How could an artifact be more important than a loyal comrade? Than a devoted friend, always available for comfort, aid, and love?

_I don't understand_. If Christopher was focused solely on his own interests, WHY did he leave his weapon to someone he had cut ties with? Wouldn't it have been better to keep its power for himself?

A hiss of frustration slinked out his muzzle. Unable to find answers, Veemon's azure hands squeezed the DITE, aggravated. Their clasp was so tight it could have crushed one of his loaded magazines.

Amazingly enough, the blue dragon still drew strength from the DITE's quiet presence. Whatever remained of Veemon's innocence, of Veemon's tormented spirit, entertained the thought that maybe, **just maybe**, Christopher wasn't as selfish as they all postulated he was, that giving his former friend the black sword was but one form of atonement for the agony he suffered.

This approach on the matter lessened the burden on his emotions.

Had he discovered the compressed spatha in Mt. Fuji earlier, the Digimon of Miracles could have been brought to tears once more. He could have decided to run back to the blond and, unknowingly, place him in another difficult position. He might have gotten the truth out of him then—a verbal confirmation of their friendship, of whether he cared for the digimon. For all he knew, he could have reversed the dissolution of their ties.

But as fate would have it, Veemon found the DITE hours after the separation, discovering it in his possession when his mind had moved on _slightly_ from the anguish, when he had grown a little more mature. For the next ten minutes, Veemon continued to stroke the weapon, finding strength he needed from within while considering, through the lens of objectivity, the implications of this gift on the fractured friendship, on the blond's trustworthiness.

The Digimon of Miracles shut his eyes. Regretfully, the DITE alone would **never** absolve Christopher of his sins, of his heinous acts of mercilessness—both actual and alleged. Kiriha's left hand would never heal. His cruel reputation would continue circulating among the digimon commanded by Ken. The DITE was powerless to revive the monsters—his friends—Chris allegedly used as shields during the Midnight Assault.

Veemon continued to grope this indisputable proof of concern, the judgment forming in his mind darkening as time elapsed. Could this ebony sword undo all the trauma and emotional damage? Could it repair everything that had been broken, restore the ties that once were?

Alas, no matter how much he tried to think in the positive, doubts flooded him, inundating his ruminations. What if the DITE was merely a ploy to return to Veemon's good graces? What if the act of leaving this weapon behind was a contingency plan, "just in case" he needed the blue dragon once more?

Veemon gazed out the window, looking up into the dusty cotton blanketing the night sky, ears registering completely the downpour besieging the neighborhood. Every drop. Truly, the dragon realized, the friendship could never be salvaged.

_Trust is easy to break_, Veemon reflected, _and nearly impossible to rebuild._

A stray thought passed by the idea of reuniting with Daisuke. What the Child of Miracles did to his digimon partner three years ago was a betrayal in the latter's eyes. Could the same be said for their brotherly relationship? Even when Daisuke's actions were justified—well-founded?

Banishing such thoughts away (for he hasn't really found his human half yet), Veemon glanced down, rotating the DITE in his palm, wondering what he should do with it. He couldn't just leave it here: the mission's odds were stacked against them. The sword and the abilities it conferred would be of immense help.

Would accepting this present equate to a—

_No_, he scolded himself before his thoughts could even complete the query. _I'm not that naïve anymore. _Whether Christopher would get _that _was Veemon's to bestow, at his time of choosing. The mature thing to do was to take the DITE and think nothing else of it.

And that was **exactly** what he did. Veemon sighed, ogling the weapon one more time. "I guess," he murmured, "this is all that's left." The Chosen encountered difficulty in dismissing every meaning, every insinuation, that could've been inferred.. He stifled the few tears gathering in his eyes and swallowed the lump of spit pooling in his two-inch snout, as if suppressing the psychological trauma, as if—it was not an "as if"!—growing up, charging the whole emotional rollercoaster to experience.

* * *

In contrast, Christopher fell deeper into his anguish, wallowing in depression far more than Veemon ever did. The Digimon of Miracles had the girl and her cat as his lifeguards, who kept him from sinking into the nadir of his pain. Chris did not enjoy the same privileges, for _his_ lifeguards were gone, either dead or lost wandering the infinity of the multiverse until senility claimed them—or until they decided to give up on finding Christopher and settle down somewhere. (The three of them wouldn't do that, would they? After all they went through together?)

Heavy rain slammed down on his entire body the moment he leapt from Veemon's old apartment complex, dragging Tina Fujieda with him. Not even for a second did the rainstorm ease its vicious torrent, boring down on Christopher as if the Creator was displeased with him.

No matter how much he clawed the vest protecting his chest and shuddered in agony from the ordeal twisting his heart, the pain refused to release him, pinioning him so tightly it appeared to intensify. It took all of Christopher's willpower to _not_ lash out at the world and invoke the Realm Scanner's _Assault Mode_ to flood the Tokyo Metropolis with destruction unparalleled.

Yet all of his willpower wasn't enough.

Every single time his goldenrod spheres dared to venture into the world he saw the ghostly apparitions of his friends, disapproving his actions, acting in complete shame for the great insult to their memory. Veemon was a recent addition to these illusions, driving him mad further.

He knew it was all fake. He knew it was all a product of his distressed mind, generated by pure, undiluted psychology. He knew it was his guilty conscience struggling to make him see the light despite the suppression it was subjected to.

Even so, the anguish and suffering that tore at him were real, renewing themselves in vigor and strength during the course of every haunting.

When Christopher slew the three men trying to protect their families, friends, and neighbors, he could envision his significant other and his best friend watching him like restless spirits bound to the mortal plane for eternity. Sally hurled one stern gaze after another, her mouth silently moving, forming words Christopher could not hear but nonetheless **knew** in his heart what she was saying. _"No!"_ censured the gist of the priestess's soundless words. _"Stop running!"_

Running from his own fears. Venting all his frustrations and unrelenting rage—upon the innocent and the weak!

RUNNING.

LIKE.

A.

**SPINELESS COWARD.**

Ivan, Chris imagined, had a palm to the face, _ashamed_ of the sins he committed, of the lines he crossed. He may have been a space pirate, the dead man would might as well argue, but at least he didn't go around slaughtering innocents and sowing terror in those who did not deserve it.

It did not help Chris's hand still prickled from Veemon's desperate grasp, who sought reciprocation and ultimately, a confirmation of their now fractured friendship. He could see those pleading red eyes and hear the echoes of his piercing whimpers, every whine shattering his brittle psyche.

If there was anything that unnerved him at this point, it was the ex-Modifier's astute assessment of his mental anguish. Indeed, he missed Veemon terribly. Chris would never deny wishing the blue dragon was clinging on his back, nuzzling his cheek playfully like a close, affectionate animal, even if it annoyed him at times—in fact he was immensely jealous of Yoshino and her Lalamon, for it reminded him of what he gave up.

Of what he lost to that accursed Felicia, and to whoever employed her fearsome power.

What frightened him was the understanding that had begun settling in the ex-soldier. The possibility Tina may figure out more things about himself and unknowingly intrude into the personal details he has locked away, and worst of all, gaze upon him with pity infusing her dark eyes. Never had he felt so vulnerable, so naked to the sagacious eye of adults.

He had to shut her up.

He had to distract her.

Christopher discerned the loving gaze Tina bestowed on her younger sister, the desire to protect her from harm infusing her purple eyes, even when she _knew _she was so weak she could do nothing but watch! The blond was aware of the feelings behind that stare, of the drive to fight for something—for the reason she lived.

It sickened Chris to witness this powerful force strengthen both sisters, who tried so hard to protect each other. It felt like someone twisted the pit of his stomach and stabbed it, moving the embedded blade into his heart. He knew what it was like to fight for someone, to fight for what must be protected at all costs.

Tina and Yoshino couldn't have possibly known their sisterly love reminded the blond of his loss, of the endless void percolating inside him. It resurrected his own despair. It conjured the memories of Ivan's disembodied head disappearing in a pillar of green energy, of Sally's warm smile liquefying into a sickening red liquid right before vanishing into lime oblivion. Their devoted love summoned the shame he repressed, the insufferable remorse ascending from the ashes of his sacrifice.

A sacrifice forfeited for a mission he did not want, for the preclusion of an inevitable scenario he knew—with every fiber of his being—having survived it countless times, two of which bore the most torture: both dazzling cages of unending torment so powerful and constricting every waking moment was spent in broken stupor, mired in devastation—he knew he could not endure again.

That he would violate a weeping ten-year-old to satisfy animalistic desires was not a concocted lie. The void had mutated into a yen, a biting heat that would not stop until he was exhausted, until all the energy bubbling in his body was spent. Right then and there, he had an opportunity to silence Tina's thoughts and disburse the accruing vigor at the same time.

Indulging this option bore satisfying results: Tina Fujieda capitulated and submitted before him, sacrificing herself for the sake of her younger sister, for the sole tongue of fire that burned in her mundane and ordinary life. Without a moment to lose, Christopher seized Tina and absconded Unit 824 before the girl could blink. He ignored the ten-year-old's screams as he and the ex-soldier soared in the darkness, his goldenrod eyes clearly seeing the next rooftop that was his first landing zone out of many as if unhampered by the night's indigo cloak.

The rain was relentless in its pursuit to smash Christopher and his indisposed, female companion to the concrete several storeys below, a surge of water so thick and intense it seemed to collude with gravity. Success was partially granted when the inundated blond's feet thumped the barren rooftop of a shopping mall, north of Wangan Road—of the Daikanransha—overlooking the Tokyo Bay.

They were several kilometers away from the apartment, away from the people he terrorized. Few vehicles plied the nearby Wangan Road. Even fewer were the people strolling the sidewalks, most residents dreaming in their peaceful sleep, scores among them destined to wake up to the news of disaster and calamity wrought by a blond terrorist that could only be described demonic by the only one who laid eyes on the culprit and survived.

Christopher Van Numen released his grip on the ex-soldier, who clutched her forearm in pain, for the blond had held her tightly (though miraculously not enough to sever the hand). So shaken was she from the **multiple, high-speed** leaps and bounds Christopher made on his way to the shopping mall, she could not even utter a curse. Neither could she cry for help; what would normally quake the still air was devoured by the flood of water, flowing down from the heavens.

Without an ounce of consideration for the poor Tina's plight, Christopher clamped her shoulders and held tight, putting enough pressure to grab her attention. "It's just you and me now, Tina." His voice snapped her to reality, reminding her of the fact her life was in danger so long as Chris was close by. "Now, start talking. Tell me about R&D."

She gulped, clueless on where to begin.

Burned out from the stress and emotion that overwhelmed her in the apartment and shaken by the troubling gaze of Christopher Van Numen, Tina prattled. "I-it, i-i-it, it isn't f-far from here," she managed to say, swallowing her fear. Her fatigue.

Her listener kept his tongue still. Now wasn't the time to talk. Tina was reclaiming the courage she exhibited valiantly last week, the will to live—if not for herself then for Yoshino—driving her to speak as it impelled her to keep fighting even when she was outnumbered and without a digivice to modify her agility and strength at the very least.

Just to make sure she knew her words weren't suffocating in the unforgiving deluge that was the rain, Christopher treated her to a nod. A slow bob of his head: a gesture of pure and utter attention.

A gesture that also encouraged her lips to move. "You're doing the right thing," it seemed to convey.

And she was. Honestly and truly, she was. Christopher would never say it, but regardless of the circumstances, the threat posed by æther on the stability of this universe was the one thing that remained unchanged, impaired further by the vicious, Machiavellian principles humanity appeared to operate under in this universe. He could actually imagine mankind, led by the Digital Suppression Initiative, waging war on their home universe with the intent to subjugate and dominate as they had done with the digital monsters.

By giving him the information, by helping him in this little side mission of removing all traces of æther from this universe, Tina may have possibly, and unwittingly, brought salvation and long-lasting peace from her ruthless brethren.

"T-there," she stuttered, "There's a building, a little bit to the southwest."

"How far?"

"Close, actually. It's a kilometer away from the café you and Veemon had brunch in yesterday."

Her statement stunned him. _We were **that close** to R&D? _Chris wondered what he would've done if he knew. Would he abandon Veemon at the café to assault the location in broad daylight? Or would he, respecting the wishes of Ken Ichijouji, the Digimon Tactician, still bring the blue dragon to Mt. Fuji and leave him the moment that white cat dragged him to the cabin?

And if that was the case, would Chris still be reeling from the anguish of his own guilt? Of his constant loneliness? Would he be living with the despicable choices of crippling a father, of massacring policemen, of butchering three men who desired no more but the safety of their families and friends?

Why didn't he ask Tina about this yesterday? He already tendered a query on something as sensitive as Digital Modification. _Which she answered willingly!_

Was it possible—no, was it _conceivable_—that the only reason he didn't know about R&D, he dissolved his friendship with Veemon in the worst possible way, he intimidated so many and slaughtered good people indiscriminately, rested on the fact **HE DID NOT ASK**? When the opportunity was there to take?

_Goddammit, Christopher,_ he chastised himself, clenching his own fists until his own fingernails dared to scrape his skin. _How could you be so stupid? So effing stupid!_

Before he could deprecate himself further, the former Modifier continued to speak, not knowing her own interrogator silently denigrated himself for being so flagrantly ignorant of the opportunities around him. "But it's not like there's a big sign declaring it's the entrance to R&D." She stared at him blankly, resigned. "Everything's deep underground—that building is just a front."

Chris gulped. The disparagements could wait until later—it would be another mistake to let the opportunity slip past him, just because he was too distracted criticizing himself. "A front?"

"The Sunrise Offices. It's a medium-rise building. Around ten floors. "

"And where's R&D's entrance?"

She grinned, as if ridiculing the blond's intelligence. If Chris did not depend on her so much for information, if Chris was not suffering from the pangs of misery ripping at him, he could've smashed the ex-Modifier's head into ground meat at once.

He would have done it too.

"In the fifth level of the basement—the parking lot. An elevator there would bring you straight down to the security hub a hundred feet below sea level."

"So you further screen out any arrivals?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"A special kind of biometrics like no other." She chuckled again. "DSI's got the entire checkpoint **inside** a Digital Field. I'm sure you remember my short lecture yesterday on digital fields…"

True to her word, Christopher had not forgotten what Tina taught him about Digital Modification. Sure, he had no idea how to operate it (not yet, at least), but in consolation, the former Modifier had armed him with the fundamental principles behind its use.

Digital Modification was precisely as it was said to be, save that the process was aimed at the digital particles comprising the parallel universe. A Digital Field was an exogenous phemonenon—artificially reconstructed by a Zone Emulator or not—that merged the Real and Digital Worlds in one location, acting as a "pocket dimension" where digital and biological were one and the same.

A digimon's—SCAI's, she called them at the time—body was merely the visual output of an extremely sophisticated program. An artificial intelligence that could, given the time and means, translate itself from digital particles to biological molecules without vanishing in the Real World on arrival.

Software within the numerous digiports dotting the landscape of the parallel world converted any incoming and outgoing "packets" from biological to digital and vice-versa, explaining how a creature made of unstable, rewritable computer data like Veemon could exist as an organic, three-foot dragon yet retain his ability to evolve.

Without the aid of such software, of the Digital Gate, monsters that realize into the Real World would produce a Digital Field—a zone denoted by translucent mist and dangerously low visibility—and remain there until conversion has finished. **Anything** inside one, he remembered Tina saying, could be affected by processes and items directly manipulating digital particles.

Tina was giddy in her seat, excitement trembling in her body, when she was explaining the concept of Digital Modification to him. And why not? She already referred to the implications of Digital Modification were **inches short of miraculous**.

Miniature Zone Emulators embedded in the Modifiers' digivices were already being used to generate bounded Digital Fields in the Real World, providing ammunition their users could wield as they deemed fit. Not only was it excellent for battle, but also—and even more so—**perfect** for non-combat functions.

People suffering from illnesses could be cured in a minute. Crops could be modified to grow at rates faster than thought possible. Construction could be performed and completed in days. The extraction of oil from the deep sea platforms would be far easier. Casualties from natural disasters would no longer be as staggering, not when homes and structures could be strengthened in times of calamity.

That conversation, however, took place at least twelve hours ago. That was then.

This was now.

A security checkpoint employing Digital Fields and a surveillance system attached to the organization's own Intranet posed a significant problem. Christopher's digital identity would be tagged as an intruder the moment he entered the restricted areas closed off to anyone but R&D personnel.

"Hmph," he grunted. "So it's useless to even use you."

Tina did not respond.

"Do you know where their data recognition sensors are located?"

"No. Never bothered to care."

"Damn!" he hissed, striking the wall next to Tina's head. Having the entire R&D Wing on his hide was the last thing he wanted.

She paled at the sight of it crumpling behind his fist like a piece of paper, thinking it could've been her head. "D, does it even matter?" she managed to murmur. "You're goddamn **invincible**. Digital Modification alone won't hurt you…"

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about the security."

Not that he might actually die fighting his way in—_Ha! Ludicrous. As if anything in this universe can kill me!_—not that—but as a week has already passed since his arrival, there was a good chance Felicia Portal had caught up to him. The Realmdrifter and her unnatural senses exhibited a talent of zooming in on ongoing bloodshed and finding her prey in the midst of combat.

A clash with Felicia was the worst direction this mission could possibly take. Christopher would never win, even if he gave his all, even if he fought without restraint. He was certain such an encounter would result in the utter annihilation of the Tokyo Metropolis by the onset of dawn. _Yes_, he thought, his right hand behind his back, stroking the ashen staff tenderly. _It would be "that night" all over again…_

He exhaled. "Meh, I'll deal with the security when I cross that bridge. Now, give me a rundown of the R&D Wing. I need to know where I'm going."

In the next fifteen minutes, Christopher exhausted Tina Fujieda of every relevant piece of information. The Research & Development branch of the DSI's headquarters was actually spacious. Various rooms were spent on refining the DSI's arsenal of weapons and technology, every single one meant for digital beings. Others were assigned with objectives dealing with the nature of the Digital World, similar to the branch of geology or physics on the organic plane.

Unlike M&A's skyscraper, which housed multiple floors devoted to the business operations of the DSI's many subsidiaries, affiliates, and partners, many of the levels in R&D were dedicated to data storage and data processing, for researchers pored as much time into analysis as they did with acquiring the information. Computer labs were abundant, as were rooms literally made to fit certain pieces of equipment designed to further this ten-year-old branch of science or implement policies set in place by the Digital Suppression Initiative.

The corridors were rather straightforward, and signs typically guided a fresh employee or unusual visitor through the facility. Tina pointed out the laboratories committed to high-level projects such as Digital Modification and Dark Matter Technology were on the lowest and deepest reaches of the facility, just above what she was told to be an immense storage space reserved for triband suppressors and the thousands of digivices confiscated regularly by M&A.

"Whatever you're looking for," Tina concluded weakly, shivering from the wall of frigid water coming down on her and the adjacent blond, "it's bound to be there…"

"Then we're done."

"Yes," Tina muttered. "We're, w-we're done." The former soldier leaned back on the wall, her slender figure sliding downwards into a sitting—

Christopher seized her soldiers, halting her fall. Tina Fujieda's purple eyes found Chris's goldenrod staring back at them with intensity so strong she was too stunned to move, let alone utter a word. "Before I leave," he said, one hand descending, running along the contours of her body. She twitched when it stopped by one of her breasts. "I need to relieve myself."

He couldn't take it anymore. The drive was there again, and so was the void that augmented it. Presented before him was a chance to fill an emptiness that scrabbled his grief-stricken soul, even if it was none but temporary. It was something only possible with a woman, something he had craved for since his arrival—a yearning he could not quench, not when the only one keeping him company for the past week was far from human, not even female to begin with.

Chris reached down for the ex-Modifier's pants and pulled, ripping the article of clothing away, revealing the pink undergarment behind. Tina, on instinct, jerked, but that was that. She did not put up a fight, for she had long expected the invulnerable, sexually-deprived killer that became of Christopher to indulge his unrequited whimsy.

A finger was inserted from the top of her bright lingerie, basking on the smoothness of her supple skin and the absence of any unkempt strands of hair—she was apparently clean-shaven. He mentally prepared himself for the deed.

Prepared himself to violate the former soldier, to despoil her.

Christopher Van Numen made his biggest mistake—and his impending victim's greatest fortune—when he glanced up, examining Tina Fujieda's visage.

Tina had been afraid of him, scared of what might happen in the next few minutes, but at the same time she had completely given up, knowing it was futile to even try escaping, not when they were on top of a shopping mall, not when her kidnapper was a man comparable to a superhero in terms of ability. The former soldier must have been consoled by the thought it was she going through this harrowing experience, not Yoshino.

Christopher saw it on her face: a poignant expression, accompanied by a tiny, upward curl of the lips—a sad smile. What he saw reminded him of the last time he had a good, long look at the one he called his significant other, at the one person he tried to protect at all costs.

Once more an image flashed inside his head. Tina's purple eyes were tinged with a cerulean hue. Her maroon hair had become hazel brown, taking on a bit of length to boot.

Again Chris visualized Sally Xyphard in front of his eyes, in the way he would always remember her: a poignant expression. A grief-stricken smile, enshrouded in regretful happiness.

He gritted his teeth and gnashed.

The man shoved Tina to the wall, turning his back at her. _I can't do it_, he realized. _I can't, I ca—I, I-I, I just can't do it!_

For it was a gross insult to Sally's memory.

For it was a shameful act not even Ivan committed as a pirate.

For it was tantamount to spitting on the ideals he used to live by, once upon a time.

_Damn it_, the blond cursed.

Felicia Portal invaded his thoughts. He couldn't distract himself from her sneer, from the sadistic gaze she always subjected him to. Images of Ivan's complete disintegration and Sally's ghastly liquification replayed constantly in his head, followed by the perdurable memory of the Realmdrifter kicking his lone means of swift transport—and three of his comrades inside it—into the prismatic Space Between Worlds.

The Digimon of Miracles' saddened face tore him apart, for it proved how far that accursed woman influenced the actions and choices Christopher made, then, now, and in the days to come.

_Damn it!_

Before he knew it, Chris abandoned Tina Fujieda, heading towards the Daikanransha, heading towards the Sunrise Offices—the elusive R&D Wing.

He screamed.

Running was his only option.

He cried.

Like the coward he was, deep inside.

.

.

Chris did not stop until the Sunrise Offices were in sight, until he stood on top of the building on the opposite side of its street, feet planted firmly on the drenched edge of the roof. Only then did he realize so many minutes had passed. Only then were his two eyes washed aglow, the azure haze of the Realm Scanner burning in his irises.

The rain did not stop. It did not yield. It seemed to _strengthen_ rather, as if the Divine Creator focused His heavenly rage upon Odaiba, upon Christopher Van Numen.

Tears joined the drops of water cascading his face, which went unnoticed thanks to the two slideshows playing in his field of vision. Both cycled through photographs, moments in the past that he badly wished would repeat again, instances of happiness and joy that diluted the overwhelming despair of his fate.

One was fixed solely on Christopher's innermost circle, on all the good times he had with his comrades. Many of them were misadventures he went through with Ivan and his annoying quests to be the "most awesome man" the multiverse would come to know. Just as many were the intimate moments he shared with Sally, bliss and contentment brimming in her eyes—she had been just as lonely and despondent as he was, and the knowledge of never being alone was something that stoked so much joy in the blond.

He bowed his head, unable to stop a whimper from escaping his throat, incapable of relieving the pain—the void—that refused to abandon him as he absconded from the former soldier. "Sally, Ivan, I, I, I'm sorry," Chris sniffled, his gaze trained at the photograph of him and Sally in front of a window, a colorful nebula in the background. "I'm effing sorry." _For turn, f-fo, for turning into… into **this**!_

The despondent blond raised his head, discerning the thick, cumulonimbus clouds painting the sky black. He spread his arms, welcoming the rain, letting it soak his clothes until they were as drenched as they could possibly be.

_Joshua…_

_Milenna…_

_Peppita…_

_Where are you?_ He thought, missing their company. _Are you all alive? What are you guys doing?_

Chris stood still, wallowing. Anyone who saw him right now might have mistaken him for a man ready to die, for someone so dejected he was willing to take his own life by leaping off the building. Christopher would have done it, if it weren't for his godlike invulnerability and the victory his true enemies would attain by his death, no matter where it occurred, whether it was by their hands or his own.

He shut his eyes, covering everything in darkness, leaving only the two slideshows ran by the Realm Scanner. Automatically, he moved from one to the other, just in time to see the photograph of Veemon and himself on the Daikanransha, arms around each other's shoulders like the best of friends. Chris had a grin and Veemon's mouth was wide open in a cheery rictus. Their hands extended forward, presenting a couple of "V" signs for the camera.

_Vee_, he ruminated sadly, _I wonder if—if you found the "gift" I tucked in your belt._

What were his thoughts, if he did? What questions were raised by its discovery? Would he consider the possibility the friendship had been real, never as fake and constructed as Chris said to him that evening? Would it convey the message the blond actually cared? That he was worried the Chosen wouldn't survive the infiltration mission without him, even when accompanied by two of his own allies? His real friends?

Christopher's depression wavered slightly at the thought of Veemon forgiving him for giving away his DITE.

Sadly, that was merely a thought. Nothing more.

He knew, in reality, the blue dragon would never forgive him, or trust him for that matter, considering the way he destroyed their friendship and obliterated it beyond repair. The DITE was and never would be sufficient atonement—it could never pardon Christopher for the horrors he committed that night.

Chris had no idea how much his parting gesture would aid the three of them nonetheless. He couldn't have anticipated Veemon, Tailmon, and Hikari Yagami trapped by a multitude of soldiers closing in for the kill—the Child of Light unable to cope with the rigorous demands of combat, her digital half stunned by the DSI's weaponry, and the Digimon of Miracles devoid of all weapons and all options but the black sword he would inevitably choose to reserve until the most dire of situations.

Still, knowing the DITE gave Veemon and whoever he tagged along with better chances of survival consoled him. Knowing he at least _did something_ to prolong the digimon's life allayed his anxiety, if not somewhat assuaging the nagging demands of his conscience.

Chris leaned forward. Gravity wrapped its sinewy arms around him and forced the man into the empty space. He plunged, awaiting the concrete floors below. It would buckle underneath the impact, forming a crater large enough to warrant attention from the public eye.

However, that no longer mattered.

He didn't need to care about anything anymore.

By the break of dawn, Christopher Van Numen would no longer be a part of this universe. He would have resumed his travels by then, running through the Space Between Worlds to his next destination, pursuing the two remaining fragments of the Realmstone in the eternal maze of the multiverse.

Chris would have abandoned everything to their own devices, apathetic to the plight of this world like any third party should. Leaving it all behind.

Taking nothing but happy memories from a fleeting week, photographs of a past long gone, interring the regrets rising from the choices his damning circumstances forced him into, living in a life of eternal solitude and despair, forever hunted by devils striving for unknown objectives, unable to even contemplate suicide.

The asphalt scrunched under him, breaking into fragments of multiple shapes and sizes, its rupture breeding a clap of thunder from the face of the earth. A sharp gunshot that stirred the R-Scanner's radiance in the blond's goldenrod eyes.

For the infiltration had finally begun.

* * *

Tailmon was nervous.

She couldn't help it: she and her human half were going to infiltrate the Military and Administration Wing of the Digital Suppression Initiative with _two_ goals in mind.

One: rescue Hikari's brother.

Two: destroy the Digital Dive System.

_Make that three_, the cat corrected her musings of her mind: **escape alive**.

It was amazing how these objectives seemed so easy six hours ago, when Veemon ejaculated Taichi's "still alive" status to the entire core group and extracted the green light for a rescue operation (and simultaneously exposing the fake camaraderie he shared with _that man_).

In retrospect, the confidence oozing out of them all seemed to be nothing more but the propensity for optimism. And a stupid one, at that.

Defending the proposition, at this point, was impossible. They did not know how to find the Digital Dive System. They did not know where Taichi was being imprisoned (and Veemon's knowledge of this "Sixth Gate" was no help at all—nobody in the Digidestined has ever acquired in-depth knowledge of the subterranean facilities buried underneath the enclosed area secured by the DSI.)

They _certainly_ did not know exactly how horrible their chances of escape were. Like the man they intended to rescue, the news of the DSI's concentration on its war in the parallel world was pulling Hikari and her two allies into complacency—into a false sense of security. None of them knew the vast number of security personnel patrolling the underground, and if they did, they probably would have _reconsidered_ the infiltration, whether it meant giving up on Taichi or not.

Because of this lack of knowledge, however, Hikari was pushing through with the operation. Tailmon could only follow her partner, for she was calling the shots, for she was the one with information. Of course, it went without saying Hikari's life was tied to her own. Her death meant Tailmon's, and even if she could somehow survive the bout of catatonia—to date, no digimon has ever lived beyond that of the partner!—the white cat would be just as devastated and blind as Veemon: instinctively comparing every acquaintance to the deceased—the missing, and living a life of loneliness, an empty vacuum that surely felt worse than actually dying.

In one sentence, it was in Tailmon's best interests to shadow the Child of Light deep into enemy territory and supply the best protection possible from the prospects of death or captivity looming around them like a mist pervading a given space, populating every nook and cranny systematically.

Why the Digimon of Miracles elected to partake in what was obviously a suicide mission (literally or figuratively, contingent on the caprices of their potential captors) worried her.

Without Daisuke Motomiya beside him, without the power of evolution in his arsenal, Veemon was as useful as a liberated digimon. In other words, **absolutely useless**. Where they were going demanded the full power of the combatants, and Tailmon was so sure the enemies they would encounter were so many and so well-equipped Hikari would eventually invoke her Perfect form.

What could Veemon offer? Excellent marksmanship? Superior hand-to-hand? A reaction time comparable, if not slightly faster, than that of a veteran soldier? Those were things _most_ liberated digimon could offer and unfortunately, they were things that would never make a significant difference in combat, not against the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Veemon was going to be an additional burden.

Tailmon bit her lip and imprisoned her thin, abrasive tongue. These sentiments, she thought, had to remain in the obscurity of silence. The white cat couldn't bring herself to confess these feelings—it was wrong—it was rude! It would effectively depreciate the sheer significance of _merely_ accompanying them, of being beside her and her human half at this time of need.

It was a choice that impressed Tailmon, really. Veemon risked his own freedom—his own life—to help the two of them rescue Taichi and Agumon, a commitment made when **nothing **was expected in return.

His presence evinced the bond they had as comrades, the relationship between the blue dragon and the white cat. Human standards, she was certain, characterized the two as best friends: Veemon was not just one of those directly responsible for her intimate kinship with the Digimon of Hope, but he was one of the few digimon she had been in constant contact with after everyone had gone their separate ways to live their own lives, not to mention mitigate the dreadful impact of the Fourth of July massacre. (On an unrelated note, being stuck as a tiny, foot-high Chibimon meant Daisuke had to bring him _regularly_ to—or pick him up from—either her place or Takeru's during a time when he was still moving on from "Takari", as Chibimon playfully coined the two. How he managed to set that system up was a mystery to her.)

Veemon was far better in comparison to _that man_. Tailmon huffed. _At least he doesn't go around leading on great friends as tools then throwing them out like worthless objects!_ Tailmon would never forget how _that man _almost broke her dearest friend. Every time she thought about it, there was this tingling heat searing her entire body into agitation.

_I swear I'm going to beat _that man_ to the cold, hard ground for treating Veemon like a piece of— _

"You look bristled," she heard her partner's voice cooing into her ear, a hand frisking the purple frills on their pointy tips. "You nervous, too, Tailmon?"

The white cat twitched, breaking away from her festering ire. Cerulean eyes veered towards the Child of Light, who stood by the porch. Tailmon considered herself lucky to be a cat: her innate night vision was both responsive and exceptional. She could discern Hikari Yagami so clearly in the darkness, wearing a gray raincoat over her citrine blouse. Zipped up, but not completely as to make room for the tuft of turquoise that was once Takeru's shirt.

She was beautiful. Human eyes would never apprehend her partner, not when the porch light was shut off—it had to be, for it would be unkind for the _Monster Makers _CEO to be indicted of sheltering two (or three, including Veemon) of the most wanted criminals in the world.

Unfortunately, Veemon did not enjoy such luxuries. His large, crimson eyes weren't as accoutered for night vision as Tailmon's. One slight thump was all it took for her to realize the blue dragon stumbled through the doorway. "Wohoooaaaah!" Stopping his descent to a belly flop on the porch's wooden floor, "Muurrrrrr," he whined, rubbing the spaces between his throbbing toes. "Why're the lights off? I can't see a thing!"

"That's the point, Veemon," retorted Hikari, turning towards one of the wooden railings. "Anyway, catch."

She snatched something up with her hands and chucked it at the blue dragon.

He took one look at it and went red. Tailmon couldn't resist giggling at his blush.

"Do I _have_ to?" he grumbled, holding a raincoat his size up in the air. His childish protest was warranted. After all, the waterproof garment was fuchsia **pink**. "It looks like it's been taken straight from a little girl's—

"From Xiaochun's closet," concluded a masculine voice.

The three Chosen turned their heads towards the speaker's direction, back to the house they were about to leave. Tailmon perceived the figure of Jianliang Li ambling out the front door. His white Terriermon, of course, never left his head, as if the two preferred being conjoined to each other. It was a comical sight, stoking the aged memory of Ken Ichijouji and Wormmon, whose partnership even those among the Twelve's First Generation hoped to emulate. _I wonder how much they've changed…_

Veemon's protests forbid Tailmon from proceeding further. "B-b-but, c, c'mon, I can't—I don't—I'm not—I j-just—it's PINK! **PINK**!Don't you have anything else—

She found his antics _adorable_. If Patamon was with them at that moment, Tailmon swore, he'd be teasing Veemon the **instant** they left the porch. "Hahaha," the cat chortled, her anxiety for the mission and rage towards Christopher forgotten in this jovial moment. "Veemon, you're so cute! I bet it'll go with your blue skin."

The scarlet tinge on his muzzle intensified. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhh!"

Jianliang sighed, his very breath infused with the experience of a jaded babysitter. "Well, it's not like you _need_ to wear it. You could just go out there"—he gestured towards the front yard, towards the street. The rain had not mollified a single bit since their arrival some hours ago, like the heavens were bursting with ominous anger.—"but if you get sick during your mission—

"I'll end up becoming a liability," annexed the Digimon of Miracles. "I know, I know." Once the acknowledgement was over he restarted the rather silly complaint, beginning with a shake of the head. "But, come, on." Veemon cast his index finger at the white monster on Jianliang's head, or more specifically, the myrtle coat its long ears wrapped around. "I'd much rather take the one Terriermon's holding…"

"Sooooooorrrrrrrrryyyyyy," chanted Terriermon. The two-foot digimon grinned. "It's actually for Tailmon!"

Veemon's dropping jaw wasn't the only thing that moved. Both his ears and that thick tail of his flung themselves in the opposite direction. "Whaaaaaatt?"

"Your animé was really deceiving," Jianliang coughed, taking over for his partner, "I didn't expect _you_ to be so tall—I always thought you were as high as my knee, Veemon, **NOT** my waist. You're lucky Xiaochun's about your size…"

The blue dragon's snout quivered. The desire to press further on something so futile and childish threatened to leap off his flabby tongue, but Tailmon could see it was being suppressed by an awareness of their time. The longer they remained in Tetsugakudo, the more their chances of success (and survival) shrunk.

After thirty seconds of silent indecisiveness, Veemon finally ceded. His conical ears and tail went limp. In defeat, the Chosen raised the embarrassingly pink raincoat and started running his left arm through the sleeve, still blushing.

Terriermon jumped down from Jianliang's head, keeping his wide, floppy ears coiled round the teen's trunk to slow his fall. Then he handed Tailmon the myrtle-colored mackintosh. She wasn't merely thankful for the Li family's thoughtfulness. She was eternally grateful for this wonderful, waterproof article of clothing.

After all, like any other cat, Tailmon despised the water.

Veemon found _his_ coat a little too snug for comfort. The blue dragon's tail had the misfortune of having a girth as thick as Hikari's wrist. _Now I know why Agumon doesn't mind having a stub for one_. "Awww," he pouted. "It's a little small for me…"

Terriermon stopped when he passed in front of him. He turned to Veemon and placed a comforting hand over the digimon's covered forearm.. "无问题! It's better than nothing, you know."

Veemon looked away, his expression constant. "I, I know that…"

Tailmon developed some concern for her human half. Hikari hadn't spoken at all since she handed Veemon Xiaochun's old mack. When she looked at her, she found the younger Yagami watching the dragon make his amusing protests, somewhat vanquishing whatever caused her unease.

Hikari was aware Veemon's characteristically childish behavior wasted precious time, but she did not say a word. She did not even urge for the dragon to cease his objections. The longer Tailmon stared into those coquelicot pools, the more she understood her.

Like Hikari's digital half, she was probably—_definitely_, Tailmon rectified—ruminating over the viability of their strategy and objectives.

Her plan was adequate: sneak in, locate the DDS and the Sixth Gate, and liberate Taichi from his cell. The Child of Courage took priority over everything else, and both Hikari and her partner prayed the elder Yagami hadn't been tortured **that** badly. Truly, the only thing on her mind was their chances of success.

Hikari must have been tense.

Hikari must have been scared.

Seeing Veemon whine and grumble about something so trivial not only caused memories of the peaceful past to resurface, but also tranquilized the serious worries taking over her. By no means did it distract her from them. The least this scene did, however, was allow her to embrace the risks… and the potential benefits she could reap from this venture.

Tailmon's muzzle formed a subtle smile. It was nice having Veemon with them again. _It's like the old days again…_

At some point in the near future, Tailmon would reflect on this moment. She was certain to feel amazed at how, in retrospect, she completely missed the fact her best friend had somehow lifted himself from his depression, returning to a state better associated with the blue dragon. Her astute eyes failed to grasp the emotional comfort hidden behind Veemon's immature tactics. They neglected the unrelenting but gentle strokes one of his baldric's pouches received from his blue hands, even as the dragon argued with Jianliang Li.

Veemon would never, **ever** forget the parting of ways for the rest of his life. It reminded him of people's selfishness, of the tendency for others to place personal interests above everything else, of the dangers in misplacing trust. The fact Veemon drew some comfort from the parting gift was unquestionable evidence of his failure to completely let go, of the memory's lasting imprint.

For now, however, the Digimon of Light concluded her best friend finally moved on from the hurtful separation, not perceiving reality for what it was.

Tailmon ambled to Hikari, tugging at her. Veemon was right behind the feline, an impassive face ogling them, awaiting the command. The increased attention spurred Hikari to straighten up and gyrate towards the yard. Facing the street, the Chosen Child of Light took the lead. "Let's go."

The three of them departed the porch, picking up speed through a brisk jog, for Tetsugakudo Park was a twelve-minute walk from the Li household. Jianliang and Terriermon waved farewell as they left, wishing the best of luck for the three.

Hikari and Tailmon's thoughts were unified, dedicated to focusing every effort—physical **and** mental—to liberating their two brothers from their prison, from inevitable death, not knowing blinding vengeance would soon overtake their objectives in the vicious field of combat, where they were fated to encounter one of those directly responsible for the gruesome catastrophe three years ago.

For taking their significant others.

For murdering Takeru Takaishi and Patamon.

* * *

_.  
_

_"I know nothing."_

_.  
_

In the ungodly hour of three in the morning, down in the lowest depths of the DSI's Research & Development Wing, a pair of mahogany eyes lazily peered towards a wide sheet of metal they recognized as the door. Lucille Diaz was slumped in the corner of the mezzanine, reclining back on an office chair whose mesh back was derelict from overuse. Exhaustion seemed to grip her, tempting her to sleep, to surrender her tenacity for this patient wait.

Aside from the soft, fluorescent lightbulbs on the ceiling above, only machinery and equipment, which once burst in life and activity from their timid spaces, accompanied the Modifier. Her gaze rolled across the plain innards of this feldgrau box, casting them in the direction of these gear—for what was probably the hundredth time that night.

.

_A philosopher once spoke these hallowed words with deference. This statement of idiocy buried within itself the greatest lesson of all time._

_.  
_

Lucy was clueless in pertinence to these machines' purpose. Directly behind her comfortable chair stood a desk a little taller than her waist, an inactive computer—_a tablet, no less!_—rested on its smooth, wooden surface. Whoever used it deliberately left it in an incline, encouraging the efficiency of its use. Whoever used it, furthermore, was bound to have logged the dark secrets of this obscure laboratory. Secrets unseen by high-ranking researchers.

Secrets not even the Head Scientist Akihiro Kurata could access.

_.  
_

_It acknowledges the pursuit of knowledge. Encourages the investigation—the unraveling of mystery._

_.  
_

Whatever curiosity Lucille held evaporated the instant she discovered its user sealed the computer with a password. She leered upon seeing the only clue providing guidance to any would-be infiltrator.

"Power to change," said the blank monitor, including the ellipses.

_Obviously this is **your** computer_, dryly noted the Modifier. A shame the code escaped her. Regrettable, even.

Of course, the yellow-haired soldier had noticed the peculiar state of nature this entire room immersed itself in. Everything her eyes captured _since entry_ bore the marks of peregrinity, as embodied by the anomalous sparkles permeating every object, even the thin, silver digivice a simple yet surprisingly resilient catch-lock apparatus secured to her wrist.

_.  
_

_Challenges mere mortals to face their ultimate foe head-on._

_.  
_

The telltale signs of every (and _any_) object inside the Digital World. A powerful Zone Emulator was at work, hidden somewhere inside this dreary cube, affecting **only** those present within its delineated territory. Once her mind tired from futile speculation over the _reasons_ behind its employment, Lucille's interest in Yamaki's work computer had piqued once more, compelling her to flip the catch on the instrument her wrist bore, delivering the silver digivice into her waiting hand.

To her chagrin, Digital Modification **refused** to work for her. Somehow, Lucy figured while fighting a losing battle against frustration and boredom, the state-of-the-art tablet was rendered immune, like the Vice-Chairman _modified_ the device to repel unapproved alterations.

_.  
_

_The unknown._

_.  
_

Lucy breathed deep. _Dammit_, she swore, feeling the pangs of boredom strike her within.

Anyone who still had possession of their sanity (or common sense) would certainly exit this depressing room and contemplate on engaging themselves in something **worth** their time and attention, may it be food, sleep, or even a few drinks in a club—a perfect situation for the Modifier, who knew about a great nightclub in Odaiba. Perfect for killing time and living the good life until the sun went up like an accursed reminder of her body's disgusting limitations.

The only reason Lucille resisted her mind's every attempt to get her out of there at once snuggled in the warmth of her determination.

Her concerns.

Her doubts.

Her rage.

_.  
_

_The questions._

_.  
_

Few, if any at all (for Lucy figured she was the only one), knew Mitsuo Yamaki had a penchant for loitering in this laboratory whenever he faced the greatest and most stressful responsibilities his position in the Digital Suppression Initiative blessed him with.

Even if it had become a blatant fact throughout this institution, nary a person would've been able to figure out how the Vice-Chairman, whose presence in every major press release led the Tokyoite populace to associate him with the apex of DSI leadership, found his way in this laboratory **UNGUARDED**.

Mitsuo Yamaki always wore a blanket of secrecy around him and certainly he had no plans of tossing _that_ away in the foreseeable future.

_.  
_

_It thrusts upon us the task of capturing within our limited minds a logical order._

_.  
_

Lucy's eyes gazed at a metal desk on the edge of the mezzanine, erected before the solid concrete railing saving many a distracted researcher from death. Her eyes were concentrated on the strange pedestal constructed beside an LCD screen embedded on the desk's surface (apparently another **locked** computer), its flat, unnaturally smooth dais sheltered by a glass dome as thin as paper.

Frail by manufacture. Tough by modification.

_.  
_

_An order that exists behind all things._

_.  
_

The peculiar structure had been so alluring Lucille actually inspected it a couple of hours ago. It was evoking some sense of familiarity in her and _why_ that happened was beyond her, until fridge brilliance struck the Modifier.

Didn't the three of them—Aldo Kikuchi, Tina Fujieda and herself—emerge from something like this yesterday, on a larger version of this stand?

_So that's what this is_, Lucy then concluded. _A small Digital Dive System meant for tiny objects_.

Once again, the reasons behind its existence eluded her incisive cogitations.

_.  
_

_Behind all events._

_.  
_

The yellow-haired soldier lifted her arms and legs and stretched, releasing the tension her muscles accumulated. Her hazel eyes caught the alcove on the opposite wall, positioned at the very midpoint of this mezzanine. An arch whose nonexistent frame permitted any onlooker to peer inside, supplying a glimpse into a cavity sufficient for a single occupant.

As she absorbed its rather peculiar sight, curiosity had no need for persuasion, for it ensnared Lucy a little over an hour ago. Built into this claustrophobic hollow were rows and rows of drawers, each filled with chemicals whose names she could never pronounce, let alone comprehend how they influenced the human body.

Its compartments would've been arranged evenly if it weren't for the covered pipes protruding from the walls, approaching from acute angles below. Their inch-wide openings gave Lucy the idea they were _meant_ to receive the chemicals. _But why?_

The same question reverberated in her head when Lucy caught a glimpse of a **second** alcove on the other side. It unnerved her to see the pigeonholes, every single one containing vials and vials of blood—_too many to count_—definitely extracted from the lone plastic tube dangling from some unseen hole in the wall. A venture that necessitated unending patience and circumspection.

_.  
_

_Both good and bad._

_.  
_

Lucy's body lolled, the office chair's flexible back canting, listing in response to her shifting weight. A gesture that spoke of nothing else save the Modifier's dismissal of these insignificant questions. No amount of pointless speculation, together with the immense volume of boredom crushing her independent thoughts, could distract her from the four subjects taxing her brain to death.

Now that this DSI soldier extricated herself from the carrels of her most recent memories, now that she was free to ruminate once more on the items nagging at her, chewing on her heart and soul, Lucy's mind started on a chain of thoughts that would certainly keep her awake all night.

Only to be interrupted by a sleek swoosh permeating the drums in her ears. Anyone engrossed in such inquisitive madness wouldn't have heard the soft footsteps emanating from the ectal passageways of the R&D Wing, let alone register the lone man's promenade, every pace, every shuffle, marked with such quietness Mitsuo Yamaki could pass for an assassin.

Fortunately for Lucille Diaz, she had merely begun her descent into insularity. _He's here! _Lucid enough to discern the ghostly footsteps of the Vice-Chairman, to catch his tall, slender frame walking in, his well-built body exuding only ease.

He thought he was alone, isolated in absolute privacy.

At least, that's what the veteran Modifier wanted to believe.

Clad in the suit he had worn since broadcasting Taichi Yagami's "death" to the masses, surprisingly kept flat and tidy despite what must've been an exhausting, stressful day—if the eyebags his sunglasses failed to conceal were of any indication, one of the most powerful figures in the entire world did not stop at the entresol. The Vice-Chairman brushed his hand across his dirty blond hair before slogging down one of the two U-shaped steps beside the computer terminal and its diminutive stand.

Once they were no longer within each other's line of sight, Lucille Diaz rose from her chair, gleeful for her decision to tarry patiently. _I was beginning to think you'd **never **show up_, she mused, releasing in one exhalation the exasperating level of frustration that amassed itself since Lucy initiated this loathsome wait four hours ago.

The Modifier was **that** desperate for a talk with Mitsuo Yamaki. To her, it was a conversation that was one week overdue. A dialogue she knew would illuminate the disturbing manner through which he authorized the Midnight Assault on the very morning it was executed.

_.  
_

_Even if the reasons behind them may never make sense no matter how much we cogitate._

_.  
_

Overlooking the concrete railing, Lucy saw her superior in the lower level—a small space with the width of a small road and the length of about thirty feet. The DSI executive idled in front of its centerpiece, transfixed to a glass cylinder like the proverbial moth to the flame. He acted like the machinery and cabinets behind him did not exist, like he had no concern for the locked rooms underneath the mezzanine only authorized technicians could access.

His gaze was established on the treasure before him, its allure captivating the Vice-Chairman. Yamaki took off his sunglasses—_I can't believe he still wears it **inside**!_—and set it down on what appeared to be a lectern, conveniently built next to the only other structure in close proximity.

_.  
_

_Many would concur God has bestowed unto us a proclivity to information—to enlightenment._

_.  
_

Lucy's tongue itched to draw Yamaki's attention, biting it at the last possible moment to keep her mouth shut. A shallow gasp audible to herself and herself alone slipped out in the nick of time. Silence was golden, a crucial element for this moment. Yamaki must be accosted at _precisely_ the right time.

"It's been a while," Yamaki's crisp baritone wafted in her ears. Lucille's nerves curled, stirring her compulsion to glance down for fear the Vice-Chairman had caught her stalking him. This fear vanished—her nerves relaxing—when she saw his face still directed at the transparent container in front of him.

Rather, at what floated inside of it, suspended in what seemed to be viscous liquid.

_Talking, _she observed.

Talking to something that would never answer back. _As usual._

Her eccentric leader whistled. She could sense the unpent irritation and stress flying out with his breath. Yamaki unloaded the strain of the day on his silent listener, narrating the meetings and conferences he attended consecutively. One after another with barely minutes to rest.

_.  
_

_Yet the very same would condemn the thought that the answers we seek so desperately to satisfy our thirst could open the doors to questions far more arduous to surpass._

_.  
_

All his meals had been conducted in meeting rooms, convening with a variety of high-profile individuals, ranging from politicians and appointed officials in the national government to economists hailing from the most prestigious universities and affluent businessmen operating in various industries yet connected by the opinion the Chosen Children's egalitarian outlook on SCAIs was a major threat.

"**Everyone** wants a piece of me!" the Vice-Chairman lamented, not knowing his words stung the heart of the lone woman spying on his odd behavior.

Hands smothering his own face, "That effing Yagami **HAD** to gather a platoon of Tamers and Wild Ones and stage a surprise attack." He swiveled (forcing Lucy to duck), reaching for an office chair much like the one his stalker lounged in on the mezzanine. Its rolling wheels carried the furniture to the man and his professional wear.

_.  
_

_If not impossible for the might of intelligence to even demolish._

_.  
_

Mitsuo Yamaki took his seat. "It's insane, what he did. Exposing all the flaws in our security, the insufficiency of our equipment." He chuckled darkly. "Even our SOPs." A frigid allusion to how the Digidestined plowed through their perimeter so easily.

He ferreted his blazer, appropriating the inner pockets for the items needed to satiate the force of habit controlling his jittery palms. Lucille was not surprised when a Zippo lighter and a box of cigarettes were fished out of his suit.

Click.

_It was time_, the Modifier supposed. Whoever worked with the Vice-Chairman for an extended period of time eventually noticed their respected manager **always**—without fail—goes for a smoke after divesting the weight of stress of his chest. _And that's when I get him._ Lucille Diaz pattered down the stairs, wary of the sound her combat boots might emit.

_.  
_

_Questions and answers._

_.  
_

Clack.

When the veteran soldier alighted on the half landing, she dusted her dark blue uniform and straightened its hems. Her ears heard the swish of Yamaki's breath, expelling smoke. It wasn't long before the smell of Fortune cigarettes reached Lucy's nose.

"You can't smoke here, Mr. Yamaki." Her accost was stern as it was chastising.

The Vice-Chair pivoted on his chair, his ultramarine eyes widening at the sight of the Modifier descending from the entresol. "Didn't—I," he stuttered, "D—I didn't expect to see you here, Lucy."

Alone, Lucille and Yamaki were no longer subordinate and employer. Hundreds of feet beneath the surface of the earth, basking in each other's presence, the two of them were without rank. Equals.

_.  
_

_They are but two sides of a vicious cycle._

_.  
_

"Don't play dumb with me, Mitsuo." She smirked, stopping when she was eye-to-eye with the DSI executive. A mere ten feet away. "You're here every time you need to clear your thoughts."

Lucille advanced, gaze unwavering. "To reflect."

Yamaki's sapphire orbs were just as resolute, concealing his astonishment, along with the shame of forgetting the Modifier was conscious of this surreptitious habit. "Being in here calms me down," he responded. His visage possessed no indication of tension, though Lucy had known him long enough to know it was still there, cleverly veiled. "You know that."

_.  
_

_A ravenous paradox._

_.  
_

Her titian glare ogled the transparent receptacle of glass behind Yamaki. She held it still, watching its resident hover lifelessly within. Lucy cringed at the cables and tubes saturating its form. _It's not like I don't know why._

Before this sterile and inert environ could immerse the soldier in tranquility like Mitsuo Yamaki before her, she reminisced the terrors of the Great Forest, suffering the sinking feeling of being unable to save all but two of her comrades. She remembered how Albert Reeves knelt before his slayer like an animal being prepared for slaughter. How weak she felt, knowing there was nothing she could do to save the reckless Colonel.

The late Colonel Reeves was one of her first partners in combat—they were teammates even before the Digital Suppression Initiative came into existence. Certainly the two of them were never as close as a couple of best friends, but since when was that necessary, when the bonds forged through combat and mutual hardship were the most resilient of all?

_.  
_

_That humanity—that all sentient life and their imperfections—must traverse._

_.  
_

These emotions—regret, weakness, and vengeance—overtook the serenity calming the Modifier. "What has happened has happened," Lucy mumbled, her face twisting into a most hideous scowl. Words went out of her mouth easily, every syllable tainted by purpose. "I've been waiting here since eleven."

_.  
_

_Again and again._

_.  
_

Horrified, he glanced at the watch underneath his cuffs. "Shit, Lucy, it's three in the morn—

"The wait was worth it," Lucille interrupted, her smug broadening. "There are questions I want answers for, Mitsuo Yamaki."

He backpedaled, one step at a time.

"**A LOT OF QUESTIONS.**"

Yamaki glanced back at the tube, as if drawing confidence from it, as if asking for help. But no matter what he did, repose would never bless the man, not during this conversation. Lucy had caught him in his most defenseless state, when the mask of professionalism and impeccability swaddling his poised countenance was denuded by R&D's most prized specimen.

_.  
_

_Truth is freedom indeed._

_.  
_

The naked figure of Daisuke Motomiya floated inside the glass prison, suspended in its fluids, kept unconscious by powerful sedatives coursing through the many tubes and wires defiling his entire body…

.

.

.

_Barraged by the rain, Hikari and Tailmon venture into Tetsugakudo. They head for the DSI's M&A Wing, employing a secret passage known only to the Chosen Children. But little do they know Taichi Yagami has already been freed, saved by the one directly responsible for his incarceration._

_Veemon accompanies the Child and Digimon of Light not just out of friendship and loyalty, but also in the hope of finding news on his beloved partner. With Daisuke suspended in the deepest reaches of the R&D Wing, it is perhaps one of the greatest tragedies of this story that the ruthless Christopher Van Numen, his former friend, rushes to the nadir of this technical center without a moment to lose, seeking the artifact that has all but consumed his life._

_Coming up next on _The Interloper_, "Cruel Intentions"._

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[6] God, this chapter was HARD TO WRITE. I had to rewrite _every scene_ **at least once**. I AM NOT KIDDING. And when I say rewrite, I literally mean it. As in, highlight the text, press backspace, and write. I was harassed constantly by writer's block and on top of it, there were many instances the canon characters were out of character. Hell, even Christopher felt out-of-character in an earlier version (and that's surprising 'cause he's my OC, and as his developer I'm supposed to know it inside and out).

[7]So up next is the DSI Infiltration, the second major battle of the storyline. I'm feeling proud of myself right now because the Lucy v. Yamaki confrontation is **the second major milestone** for _The Interloper_. Surely you've noticed I measure my progress not with story length like most authors but with narrative landmarks macroscopically integral to the storyline, as the plot has been mapped out and the only things lacking are the "finer details", which are obviously responsible for the exaggerated lengths my chapters often take. Would you believe, for instance, that the six chapters covering the Mt. Fuji scenes all the way to the commencement of the DSI Infiltration were meant to be one?

[8] Do _not_ expect me to write the next chapter anytime soon. I've gotten Lucy and Yamaki's conversation mapped and ready for writing, but as their dialogue will take place _concurrently_ with movements from Taichi, Veemon/Hikari/Tailmon, and Christopher, I still need to do a rough outline.

Besides, I am still preparing my research report for that NYSE company... and immediately after that comes the Dr. Pepper & Snapple Group as my next project! :D (Now if only I can get people to join me in my investment ventures...)


	23. Groundbreaking Development

**Pre-chapter author notes:**

[1] HOLY CRAP. An update… AFTER EIGHT MONTHS! Homaygod, God save us all. XD

Anyway, so I've been out of the updating scene for far, _far_ too long. But nope, I haven't been dead all this time. Several things have happened to me in the interim. Some are too personal for me to even allude to. Some are related to major steps I've made towards my professional aspirations (oh, like you guys would be interested in that). Some have more to do with useless stuff like videogames (_Skyrim, Arkham Asylum/City, Modern Warfare 3, _and_ Mass Effect 3_, anyone?).

And the rest have to do with my rewrites of CH9 and CH10. I've spent quite a chunk of my free time on these two, since these are pivotal chapters. They have been made more immersive, and the quality is comparable to the efforts I've put into the writing of the more recent chapters.

So please read the rewrites. I'd like to know how much they hit you. XD

[2] Anyway, because _Cruel Intentions_ ended up becoming too long **yet again**, I'm splitting it into two chapters like what I did with the previous ones. Word count's approx. 18,900, containing six of the eleven story segments planned for the original chapter.

So here you go. Chapter 23, _Groundbreaking Development_. Read and enjoy. ^_^

* * *

Imposing.

It was the first word Taichi could think of, seeing the woman responsible for the disastrous ending of _Operation: Pyramid_ appear before him. Her bombastic figure was exposed for all to see—"all" being Taichi and the crimson liquid that once comprised his security detail.

Imposing.

It really was the only word he could think of.

Felicia Portal pranced into the cell, every step an exaggerated march that merely served to sensationalize her bosom, her tantalizing figure, and her waist-long hair, every strand a wonderful brown. The Child of Courage found her chartreuse eyes intimidating, orbs exuding nothing except ambiguous intent.

The grin gracing her lips disturbed him. Taichi took a few steps back, his mind recalling the way Felicia easily disposed of his guards, easily obliterated the thick door that separated him from freedom. One pace for every one taken by the woman's deliberate strides.

His hands gripped the rotund blob of flesh that was Koromon, extracting some form of moral support from the digimon. The digital half of Taichi Yagami stared, aware of the uselessness in even attempting to fight off this threat. There was no doubt both the human and digimon of Courage—albeit in one of his weakest forms—remembered Felicia Portal took down WarGreymon with little effort, a memory so infectious it literally sapped away Koromon's ability to _make_ vicious, bestial snarls.

Something hard interrupted his withdrawal. Rigid.

Solid.

Brown eyes rolling to the side, Taichi glimpsed an unmoving wall, virtually leaving him with no room for escape. He felt a bead of sweat descend his cheek, staring at the stunning being before him, shivering from fright. From the inability to fight back.

Never before had the Chosen Child felt so **mortal**. The fragility of a human being constantly swirled within him, his life threatened by one who was human in _**only**_ appearance, nothing more. One who was powerful enough to be a god in the Real World—no, in the Digital World.

Felicia's supremacy was unparalleled. After seeing the way she teleported across the airspace, effortlessly neutralizing the threat posed by Agumon in his Ultimate level, Taichi figured—Taichi **knew**—this accursed b*tch had the capacity of slaughtering an army of BelialVamdemon and Apocalymon without breaking a sweat.

So what did the Child of Courage have going for him? Short, brown hair that was once an afro everyone seemed to associate with him? A honed talent for strategy? For grasping things that would've otherwise been glossed over? Or was it his ability to invoke miracles in times of despair? (Until now, Taichi refused to think Daisuke had long usurped that role from him ten years back.)

Armed with nothing but a living plush toy and his human body, Taichi Yagami was, before the regal cruelty of Felicia Portal, a man weak in stature but impeccable in spirit and intelligence. For all the victories his erudition and skill had granted fourteen years ago, for all the support he has provided to the second generation _ten_ years ago, there was nothing in his impressive repertoire of experience that would allow Taichi to survive this encounter.

To survive the enthralling and mysterious woman before him.

Already Taichi Yagami envisioned the pulsating, green wisps of energy appearing without warning, ending his life like a child would blow a candle: immediate and resolute.

With nowhere else to retreat, Taichi felt Koromon's squishy body squirming in his hands. "I'll protect you," the Baby digimon murmured. "Even if I die I **will** protect you, Taichi." Koromon prepared a last ditch attack—the ultimate sacrifice—to save his partner. That it was apparently a futile and hopeless effort never graced his digital half.

_It's the thought that counts_, Taichi thought acquiescently.

Then Felicia acted.

In the blink of an eye, her hands were upon _both_ Koromon's face and that of his human half. She overwhelmed human and digimon with her speed and dexterity. A lime glow surrounded Felicia's palms, actually soft in intensity but as blinding as the sun as far as the two Chosen were concerned.

Resigned to the imminence of death, Taichi Yagami shut his eyes. Regrets filled his heart. He would never see the light of day again. He would never have the chance to rectify his mistakes, to even apologize to his sister for what he did. His fists were clenched, trembling to put up a fight that would certainly end in his doom on the very second it would've begun.

Tears slipped out of his shut eyes.

He tried so hard to pull the Chosen Children—the Digidestined—**humanity itself**—out of a depressing predicament. All he wanted was the realization of Hikari's dream, of a world where both digimon and human beings lived together in sacred harmony. Taichi had become an ambassador for the Digital World for that sake.

When Takeru and Yamato died with their families—when her boyfriend and his _best friend_ died—he had sworn to do everything he can to right the wrongs of humanity, even as the war began, even as soldiers from across the globe invaded the Digital World and subdued them, simultaneously employing every government out there to repress those who fought for what was right.

A sense of weakness, a sense of **failure**, struck Taichi Yagami every time he ventured beyond the safe haven of the underground base. He despised the leash he snapped onto Agumon's neck. He could barely endure the meager lives led by countless digimon in the Real World. Pets. Commodities.

It rattled his soul, seeing the triband suppressors—the DARK SPIRALS—clipped on their bodies, stripping away free will and intelligence, enforcing the line that delineated humanity from every other creation of God.

Digimon as a species were gradually being enslaved, and the biggest tragedy of it was, there was no more "Digimon Kaiser" to unite against and fight. Oppression was conducted by organizations operating under the maxim of human progress, of society's advancement.

He still remembered the blond man they saw the other day, who ate his fill with a Veemon by his side. They ate the same food, from the same table. Perhaps, even the same plate. It offered a jarring disparity, for the other humans in that diner treated their digimon so callously and heartlessly, like they weren't people themselves.

Recalling the scene exposed Taichi to the clasps of both happiness and grief.

Happiness at the thought that seeds of hope still flourished somewhere out there.

Grief at the reality he could never expand that heartwarming scene to all of humanity and digimon alike. That he would **never** be given a second chance to fulfill Hikari's dream.

Tears slipped out his eyes.

There was just no escape. He was going to die here in this cold, damp prison. His body would be liquiefied like the guards outside the cell.

Nothing left to bury. Nothing to mourn over. The Child of Courage would never be rewarded with such dignity.

Yellow-green blinded his vision, overcoming the darkness of his eyelids. _This is it_, he told himself. _I'm about to— _

Death never occurred, to his surprise. Not even pain.

He could still feel the firmness of the floor, the chilling temperature of the prison cell.

What happened in oblivion's stead elicited more confusion. An annoying itch took over his ENTIRE body—he could actually feel every wound and scar on his body melding together. Healing. The bag of flesh carried by his hands became heavier, increasing in size and weight to the point Taichi Yagami was forced to relinquish his digital half.

A minute passed.

Only then did he open his eyes.

Agumon stood where Koromon should have landed, revitalized but as astounded as his human half.

Wasn't Felicia the one responsible for his imprisonment? Wasn't she the one who set her terrifying beasts upon both the DSI and the Digidestined? Wasn't she the one who averted whatever advantage Taichi's platoon gained from the surprise attack, teleporting soldiers around like toys?

Didn't she murder his jailers in cold blood, literally turning them into sickening, malodorous paste before his eyes without even an ounce of compunction?

Hasn't she proven herself as someone who never did things without reason? Cold and calculating? And immensely intelligent?

Before he knew what was happening, darkness suddenly overtook his vision. His gloved hands instinctively moved, only to grasp flowing cloth, its fibers and rough texture familiar in his uncovered fingers. Somehow pulling his head free from the mess, the Child of Courage discovered the chocolate brown cloak his captors certainly confiscated from him earlier. _H-how…?_

"I snatched it from the man who took it," Felicia's voice attacked his ears, seizing the elder Yagami's attention before his thoughts could proceed further. The way she said it made Taichi think the woman did something far more insidious than just stealing the sinuous cape on Taichi's behalf. "Same for these."

Taichi was in the midst of wrapping the shroud around his body when he felt two items land on the floor next to his feet. Agumon's claws must have found them before Taichi could return to the embrace of his cloak, made warm by its thickness and make, protection enabled by the Chrome Digizoid injected into the fabric—heavy yet manageable for an adequate degree of mobility.

"Hey Taichi," mumbled Agumon, his first words for the night. He tendered the two items to his human half, letting them rest on his palm, keeping his long, sharp claws away from both the objects and the Chosen Child. "Look, it's your digivice and…"

_My goggles._

The battered headgear rendered obsolete by time but retained its symbolic power, having been passed down to Daisuke Motomiya in 2002, only to be retrieved by its former owner from the Child of Miracles' own memorial ten years later.

Caked spit and dried phlegm covered the surface of its lens. Dirt and grime swathed the black strap. _They've certainly abused it_, Taichi noted, his mind conjuring images of grown men molesting everything the goggles symbolized, violated in the names of hate and domination.

With tender, loving care, Taichi Yagami wiped the strap free off filth and, spitting on the dirtied lens, wiped it clean, using one end of his cloak. Once the goggles were back on the base of his neck, gleaming in what little light shone through the exposed doorway surrounded by fresh blood, Taichi regarded Felicia Portal, who was watching him with traces of amusement and condescension hiding behind her very posture.

Once she realized his attention was finally on her, she broke the silence. "You can scavenge the guns those meatbags were carrying," Felicia stated, referring to the soldiers she slew without gesturing towards the door behind her. Indifference and disregard for life oozed from her words. "I made sure you had something left to defend yourself with when you escape."

Taichi's steel gaze turned to Agumon, whose straight face remained constant trying to comprehend this mystifying woman, although his prehistoric head bobbed up and down in acknowledgement. The elder Yagami's eyes revisited Felicia. "W-why," he gulped, "Why didn't you kill me?"

Had Taichi possessed the gift of omniscience, he would have known the Digimon of Miracles spoke those five words just one week ago, addressing someone who had nothing to do with the war, someone unrelated to the digimon or the Chosen Children.

Unlike Christopher Van Numen, who spared Veemon's life and dressed his wounds out of kindness and a sixth sense of trustworthiness, who was moved by his own burdens to befriend him, who until now could not find a reason to explain his actions, Felicia's response was as quick as lightning, and as glacial as malice.

"You and your _pet_ aren't completely useless to me."

Taichi's thoughts were deadpan. For a moment there, he thought the woman had some compassion in her.

"Chaos," the woman in green buttressed. A sadistic glee pervaded her cadence, and Taichi had an inkling that wasn't a figment of his imagination. "Disarray. Your escape will unleash pandemonium."

The words were deliberate. Purposeful and calculated, as though the sadist's mind operated on processing speeds a human brain could never approach. It kept the Chosen of Courage wary—guarded.

They were dealing with a villain. With a monster of a being that had some teleology in mind, a catastrophic vision she wanted to realize, and maximize the ramifications for Buddha knows what.

They were dealing with a puppeteer. A manipulator acting behind the scenes, weaving and lacing the cords of fate like a master spinster. Felicia Portal had orchestrated the proceedings of _Operation: Pyramid_ and Taichi fell right into her trap. What was she arranging now? What was the scheme forming behind those inscrutable, chartreuse eyes?

Had Taichi realized the role she had played to this day, perhaps the Child of Courage would question her identity. Was she somehow related to the Chairman of the DSI? Was she _the_ elusive leader of this despicable organization?

Had he asked that, the woman in green would laugh at him and mock him for suggesting something so ludicrous and unrealistic. Only to reveal hints—bits and pieces—of the truth: that the Chairman was both a foe the Chosen Children have defeated in the past, and an adversary they have never met.

But he did not ask this question. He did not have enough data to realize her position. He did not even know she was the antagonist to the blond man he and Agumon glimpsed in the steakhouse.

The question he did ask—the question he was _compelled_ to ask—was, "Why? What do you want with us?"

Felicia smirked. Her daunting countenance intimidated him further. He watched the woman in green place a hand to her hips. Breast jiggling tantalizingly as though they derided him, poked at his masculinity. "For a higher purpose," she verbalized. Malevolence no lesser than Demon's underscored the articulations rolling off her tongue.

Taichi Yagami noticed she wasn't even breathing. He would've been right to assume Felicia didn't need to. "To destroy the Emissary of Victory. The Harbinger of Miracles."

Then the woman vanished. Without a sound. Without warning. Felicia left behind ripples in the air like it had been a body of water. Her disappearance was no different from someone who sank beneath the waves of obscure seawater, made navy blue by its unfathomable depths. The Chosen of Courage were effectively abandoned in the prison cell, alone with each other and the liquefied remains of the human half's jailers.

If it wasn't for those, for Koromon, and for the lack of a door on his cell, the elder Yagami would've thought this was all a dream. A part of a terrifying nightmare he would soon wake up from.

They were left pondering over her ominous statements. "The Emissary of Victory," he repeated. "The Harbinger of Miracles." Now that they rolled off his tongue, Taichi was surprised to feel a tug of familiarity. They seemed to call out to him, shouting at him, insisting he knew them, the two associated with these titles. "Wonder who **they** could be."

He shuddered at the thought of being _her_ prey. Felicia was unstoppable in her own right. Sadistic like the b*tch she was and perhaps, as cunning as BelialVamdemon or even more so. _Man, I'd hate having someone like her on my ass._

Taichi nudged his digital half, snapping the orange dinosaur out of the confusion ravaging _his_ thoughts. "Kinda makes you think how strong that 'Emissary' and 'Harbinger' are, huh, Agumon?"

The Digimon of Courage did not chuckle. Neither did he retort with a lightning-fast quip. His muzzle was gaping with what Taichi could only describe to be horror. "Taichi," he began, "I thi-think, I think we **know** who they are…"

"What do you—

"Do you remember Veemon? Daisuke?"

"Huh?" Taichi cocked an eyebrow. "Agumon," he chuckled nervously, somewhat confused. "_Of course_ I remember Veemon. But—

"You don't get it!" The Child level clutched his human half's hands, holding them as though the two were lovers. "I'm the Digimon of Courage, Taichi. You're the Child of Courage. What do you think Daisuke and Veemon are?"

Taichi launched himself from this starting point. It did not take long for him to connect the dots, and the more he ruminated, the more a revolting combination of relief and fear churned inside him. "V for Victory," he uttered, an expression of horror as gripping as Agumon's glazed his brown eyes.

_Shit._

Agumon listened to him, saying nothing as the sentences—the concepts—formed themselves in his astute intellect. "Then the 'Emissary of Victory' and the 'Harbinger of Miracles'… they are…"

_Holy shit!_

The Digimon of Courage did not interrupt him. He merely nodded.

"Buddha," Taichi Yagami pushed out everything with a single breath. With a single expletive. "Daisuke—Veemon—they're still alive!" The mere statement moved him, impelling the man to advance, to exit the prison cell. Purpose accompanied every step. "I don't know how—or why—but they got _her_ after them. We can't do anything if we stay here."

It was bad enough this woman was after Daisuke Motomiya. Worse still was the fact his digimon partner still languished somewhere in the Digital World. Or was he really? It had been almost three years since his disappearance. Perhaps Daisuke returned to the Digital World and picked him up during these turbulent times?

The Child of Courage couldn't resist speculating. Daisuke's and Veemon's whereabouts had long been unknown, to the point the Chosen Children thought the two were as dead as the three pairs of Chosen that have died in the Shinjuku March and the Reception.

Not once did he realize the Veemon they saw with Chris the other day was Daisuke's one and only partner. If he had, Taichi Yagami would have most certainly felt the spike of regret being thrust into his chest.

Of course, such shame **assumed** he was receptive to the idea in the first place. (And he was not.)

The Chosen's gaze landed on the blood-drenched floor, catching sight of an M9 Pistol and an FN FAL. He leaned down and retrieved them. He took great care in wiping off what was part of a lung from the ACOG Sight installed on the rifle's Picatinny rail.

He knew he was being used. Manipulated like a pawn destined to die a meaningless death by the chessmaster's standards. Nonetheless, "We don't know where Daisuke and Veemon are, but knowing they're still alive's a good start." Taichi scavenged some of the magazines scattered along the empty corridor, which, he observed, went in one direction.

He wiped the disgusting mixture of dirt, blood, and unidentifiable guts on the wall before running a hand across his scalp—through his short, rising hair, as though it was a ritual preceding a major battle. Or perhaps it was a habit from long ago.

Once Taichi was sure everything was ready—rifle cocked, pistol prepped, digivice clipped to his belt, and goggles right on the base of the neck—a worried thought crossed his mind. _Daisuke, what the hell happened to you?_

A worried Agumon snapped him from his thoughts, putting his doubts on the table for his human half to see. "Taichi, do you—_can_ we defeat that woman?"

Taichi took a deep and doubtful breath. Thirty seconds had elapsed before something finally went out his mouth. "We must escape first."

What he really meant to say was, "We'll cross the bridge when we get there." But who in their right mind would affirm the anxiety and sense of weakness percolating inside their best and closest friend?

**Especially** when they were about to venture into the unknown?

Knowing no help was coming.

Knowing success was literally up to them and enough luck to exhaust the Digimon of Miracles of his fabled ability to attract it.

Taichi Yagami and his digimon partner scuttled out of the corridor, away from the scene of carnage. Gun at the ready for the former, claws poised to attack for the latter.

* * *

The Vice-Chairman was cornered. Trapped like a rat with nowhere to run. Lucille's presence was unprecedented. Completely unexpected. He had obviously thought one of the most talented Modifiers on the roster of volunteers would be asleep in an assigned M&A Wing quarter at this ungodly hour in the morning.

_And that's where you made your mistake_, Lucy thought with a smirk, skirting the notion Yamaki was just too engrossed in his work—a conjecture long invalidated by the one-way rant he had with the Child of Miracles.

She eyed the DSI's second-in-command. Lucille Diaz was well aware of Mitsuo Yamaki's rank. His position in the organization—in the _world_, for that matter—was miles and miles above her. Lucy was an ant compared to her. A puny insect that could be flicked off with one finger. If provoked, the executive could easily demolish her professional career and end any and all aspirations she may have had in her life.

The figurative godhead of the Digital Suppression Initiative had enough authoritative power in him to dispose of the Modifier permanently. He could kill her and get away with it. None of the skills she had earned over the years-long course of her career, first as a radical extremist and then as a praiseworthy soldier, could ever hope to even match the sheer prowess of the Vice-Chairman.

A sinister moniker has followed Mitsuo Yamaki ever since his induction into the global organization, and one that stalked him even as he rose rapidly through the ranks _in months_, overtaking incumbents with such speed he was the human incarnation of Facebook, Google, and Apple in the business world, taking to the skies of corporate glory in mere years instead of decades. Ever since the Chairman of the DSI had gone through the trouble of personally welcoming him into their ranks. A blessing many a rookie would kill for. A gift incumbents would envy him for.

He was called the Divine Assault.

The pioneer of the Digital Modification technology and the progenitor of the triband suppressors that now blanket many of Earth's modern societies and tame the inherently dangerous weapons of mass destruction that were the SCAI. The man with effective control over everything that represented the Digital Suppression Initiative.

From the eyes of an observer, of a political analyst, or of anyone with a shred of common sense, the act of accosting the second most powerful man in the world with brazen remarks and accusatory undertones would have been the most asinine, the most dangerous and reckless decision Lucille Diaz had ever made in her career. In her life.

But from the eyes of its actor and, indeed, from the hazel pools of this accuser who dared to tread in the realm of the angels and demons lording their divine and demonic mandate over mortal society, over the small and puny and tiny and insignificant men and women and children, the sense of justice overrode such fears.

Lucy's confidence was brimming with bravery and valor. Why should she cower down before this man? Why should she accept his orders **without question**? Just because she was a soldier? Just because she had sworn to protect both country and species, by virtue of fighting under the insignia of the Digital Suppression Initiative?

The Modifier had good reasons for confronting the Vice-Chairman. Twelve of them.

She remembered it all too clearly as though it happened yesterday, or as though it was happening right before her eyes like a YouTube video hastily posted on the Internet moments before going viral.

Fifteen soldiers—the cream of the crop—who qualified for the Digital Modification project had set out for battle. Two were key members of the team. The rest were trainees who had yet to prove themselves worthy in the harsh, ultramarine gaze of their sponsor.

Ten were equipped with rifles capable of firing dark energy; and while all fifteen were armed with digivices permitting the glorious power of Digital Modification, only one—held by the operation's deceased commander—was powered by a new prototype that ran on a virtually inexhaustible power source.

And what had happened?

Because they—because **YAMAKI** sought action as soon as the satellite base was found, skirting over military protocols like absolute rules of engagement begging to be violated, the forward operatives discovered too late the two variables that ruined the Modifiers' overwhelming success.

It was a depressing stain on the group's reputation as the best of the best.

Many of the digivices were lost. Five to the enemy and the rest, destroyed.

Seven of the ten dark matter rifles were gone. Four of them were scrapped. The fates of the remaining three were up to speculation; for all she knew, the Child of Knowledge might be having a mindgasm just by having the weapons available for study.

And that was not all.

Twelve hard-working soldiers died that night.

**Colonel Albert Reeves** died that night.

Lucy clenched her fists, burning in rage from the memory of seeing him in his defeated, pathetic state, kneeling before the blond demon that changed everything.

Only one person was responsible for the damage they have sustained, for the lives that were lost. Lucille Diaz stared at the perpetrator with her cold, unflinching gaze, her hazel orbs sending over a gaze imbued with the power of justice and vengeance.

She didn't care if its culprit was her superior. She couldn't give a damn if that person had her entire career—and her life!—in the palm of his hands. The Modifier had nothing to lose, and Mitsuo Yamaki had all the answers.

"Why did you allow it?" the woman demanded. "Why did you approve the Midnight Assault?"

She had to know.

**It was her right**.

The executive could only clear his throat. "It was an _excellent_ opportunity, Diaz. Research and Development had rolled out new tech for testing. Dr. Kurata even boasted how the new issues were going to change the war as we know it—

"Don't you give me that f*cking crap!" Lucy snapped. Her ejaculation was frigid and glacial. Had her opponent been someone else, she would've won right then and there, and she would've relished the victory like a buffet. "I warned you that morning, **sir**," she emphasized, letting derision accentuate the last word. "We didn't know the layout of their base, the demographics of the SCAI's patrolling there, and yet you commissioned Albert to lead a direct attack!"

"And don't make me repeat myself." His reply was replete with disdain. "You yourself saw how powerful the dark matter rifles were. One shot can erase a digimon **regardless** **of level**! The new digivice—

"That's a load of bull and YOU KNOW IT!"

"_Lucille_." He articulated her name ex cathedra, aiming to unshackle her from her blind rage through its stern intonation and commanding pulse.

But to her, it came off as derision. As _condescension_. "And you call it an opportunity?" The Modifier's lips trembled…

…but not from fear. "_Opportunity?"_ The Modifier yelled at him, releasing hours of aggravation and disappointment that had been cooped up for far too long in the week that passed since their bitter defeat. "No," she asserted. "No! You threw out our SOP's, bribed everyone with new toys, dangled the promise of power before Albert, and we **both** know he's egotistic enough to take your bait!"

Mitsuo Yamaki frowned. Her charges were offensive and vulgar. Had Lucille been a nobody, she would've been locked up and arraigned for insubordination, pacified by the Divine Assault himself. "How dare you. Are you implying—

But she was _not_ a nobody.

"'Implying'?" Lucy reiterated. "Have you forgotten who you're even talking to, **Mitsy**?"

The Modifier watched her superior recoil from the nickname. _So it still moves you, huh?_

Yamaki's momentary retreat ensured Lucy's position wasn't that of a no-name the Vice-Chairman could easily dispose, but that of someone who held some sway over him, who posed a threat to him.

She refused to let him recover. "Don't try denying how much you **loathed** Albert. How much you wanted to kill him _every time _you looked at him!"

"I know your M.O.," the soldier arraigned. Her deepened voice accentuated how much those two letters disgusted her. How they appalled her. How they infuriated her. "I know how you **murder** every operative involved in _that_ incident three years ago, assigning them to the front—

Mitsuo Yamaki cut her off with a fierce defense. "My personal feelings **HAVE NOTHING** to do with this!" Neither did he admit guilt to her allegations nor did he accept the fact the Midnight Assault was one of the biggest mistakes in his career. "If you want to blame someone for what happened last week, then point your finger at Reeves' grave!

"At his pompous…" Crystal blue met sepia and contact was maintained.

Every adjective, spoken with derision and a rage so strong it couldn't have been professional. "..arrogant…"

With each word he stepped forward. His blue eyes unyielding. "…and completely, disorganized management!" Mitsuo Yamaki fought to stay afloat, fought to repel the threat that was the Modifier, standing before him not unlike a group of defiant rebels confronting the cause of their suffering and agony.

Certainly he could fire her at anytime. Certainly he had the ability to hurl a crippling lawsuit for her accusations. Certainly he could invoke the government-mandated power of secrecy and, as her superior, command her silence. Certainly he could murder her on the spot and escape unscathed without so much as a trial in the courtroom.

He was one of the most influential men on the planet and he _knew_ it. Multinational corporations and governments of worldwide importance danced in his grasp. The Digidestined viewed him as the cesspool of humanity's wrath, seeing him as an indifferent, despicable, and discriminatory overlord who wanted humankind and humankind alone to flourish, even if it came at the cost of raping a people. Of dehumanizing an intelligent race.

There was no way he was going to resort to the most pathetic and cowardly methods used by provincial warlords of the Philippines, dominant terrorists of the Middle East, and feared leaders of organized crime. Never.

"You had everything in your disposal to fend off the unexpected! **EVERYTHING**!" He shot the unconscious, heavily sedated adult behind him a passing glance. "Even if Imperialdramon and Omegamon fought all of you at once, you STILL would've won _hands down_!

"Don't even get me started on—

"DO I HAVE TO SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU? I gave him full responsibility over the platoon and he whipped out the green light **out of his ass** and paid for his mistakes with his life!

"And now you're accusing **me** of discarding protocol? Holding me responsible, for what _you_ think was a suicide mission?"

The Modifier snorted derisively. His counterattack was meant to pass the blame to her commanding officer. It was meant to defang her assertions, to challenge her worldview and think twice of even crossing the Vice-Chairman.

But none of the soldiers that died were his friends.

And that made all the difference.

"Hmph, coming from you, Yamaki, it sounds like you don't even give a damn some of M&A's best people died that night."

Lucy leaned on the banister's finial, glaring at the executive. "I bet you didn't even bother reading Aldo's report."

Mitsuo reached for the Zippo lighter hidden in his blazer. From his slacks' pocket was extracted a lone stick from a pack of Fortune cigarettes. Click.

The soldier knew this was a direct violation of organization protocol. Smoking was prohibited in all but designated areas, and the nearest one was far, far away from here. It was, in fact, closer to the elevator to the Sunrise Offices in Odaiba than it was from the laboratories allocated solely for Digital Modification, Triband Suppression, Dark Matter, and the Chairman's personal research.

Considering what was about to happen in the next hour or two, they were lucky they stayed down here.

Clack.

Even though Lucille permitted this respite, that by no means indicated she was comfortable with the lingering odor of smoke drifting into her nostrils.

She watched Yamaki face the form of Daisuke Motomiya, seemingly immune from the grotesque manner the wires and tubes just hung from his body. The prized specimen of R&D was suspended within a viscous colloid and locked like a lifeless subject being ready for dissection.

His presence seemed to calm the executive down, allowing him to draw out the tension until it was so thin it left the room the instant a puff of smoke fanned out from his mouth. "Do you really think I had time to read it, Lucy? That stunt Taichi pulled kept me busy for hours."

Ashes fell from the glowing cherry. "You have _absolutely_ no idea how stressful it was," he murmured, not minding the dark clouds that now entwined with the filtered air. "All that damage control. Politicians, regulators, corporate fatcats, and journalists…"

She relinquished her anger, heaving a disappointed sigh. Mitsuo Yamaki was operating from limited data, and it became clear to her that neither of them were wont to withdraw unless all the information had come into light. Perhaps by then he would be open to suggestion.

Perhaps, Yamaki would be willing to listen to her.

"Well," she initiated, leaving her post on the finial to approach her superior. Her titian orbs spared no glances for the Child of Miracles floating nearby, his body defiled in the name of science. Lucy's gaze retained the Vice-Chairman, who stood resolute and immobile. "It's time you heard a firsthand account."

The Modifier could see it all once more, in the bosom of her thoughts. The darkness of the night, the screams of agony and rage, the whining blasts of dark energy as they ripped through the air, and the sounds of battle emanating from the command center and the northern portion of the base.

Lucille Diaz was brought back to the Great Forest and the traumatic battlefield it held within, where she replayed the impressive teamwork between the DSI's unprecedented enemy and the SCAI partnered to the unconscious form floating inside the glass cylinder.

She could never forget the firearm in the blond's hands. The indestructible bracer on his left hand. Neither could she forget the unnatural, ebon blade that had been in the hands of both demon and dragon.

The cadavers of her comrades locked eyes with her, their hollowed expressions all too eager to relay their agony, to communicate the regrets of their deaths and the agony that took their lives.

Lucy reminisced, in a clarity that rivaled that of a digimon, the pitiful sight of Colonel Reeves kneeling before the blond demon.

Defeated.

His demise, imminent.

"It's time someone told you **how we failed**."

* * *

Rain.

Heavy rain.

The deluge of water that now barraged a vast portion of the Tokyo Metropolis was like an eerie premonition of the trouble that lay ahead. A dark forecast—a grim sign of the catastrophe the two worlds slowly approached as the digits of time tick-tocked towards the onset of oblivion.

Hikari Yagami, the Chosen Child of Light, shuddered in the autumn-chilled temperature of the water as she and the Digimon of Miracles followed her digital half to the hidden path, stashed within the storm drainage as though its designer sought the protection of the elements.

But her shivering was not merely a product of the chilled liquid. Although it didn't seem to be there at first glance, on further and deeper concentration, a menacing tremor suffused the atmosphere around them, as though the struggles of the Chosen Children were on the brink of exacerbation, inches away from a cliff that beheld an opaque darkness.

Hikari could not comprehend why she was the only one who was blessed with this gift of foresight. Why was she receiving these dreams? Why was she the only one who could detect the portent saturating the skies?

The more she looked at Tailmon, the more she eyed Veemon, and the more she remembered the visage of Taichi moments before slamming his fist into her gut, it became clearer and clearer to her that Hikari Yagami was a different breed of Chosen.

Long ago, she recalled, long ago there was once a digimon that sought her for this quality. A nefarious villain that, unlike Vamdemon fourteen years ago, wished nothing more but full control over her inner light. Over the source of her inimitability, the very thing that separated her from the Chosen Children.

Although Hikari Yagami had no idea how the master of the Dark Ocean was faring, now that ten years have passed, the memory did not only make her shudder, but perhaps clarified her own situation. Speculation it might be, through her connection to the Light, her link to an otherworldly element of the two worlds, maybe her access to these omens—the three nightmares and the foreboding aura of the blackened skies—was a prelude to her destiny. A prologue to her nature as the Child of Light.

If Daisuke Motomiya was truly the "Child of Miracles"—yet another element that defied the categorical logic of the Crests—then perhaps it would explain why Veemon was the only one who seemed to live in this special situation. It might even explain why, back then, he had always been the first of the group who gained the innovations they used to topple their enemies.

But in that case, where did that leave her beloved? Did Takeru still play a role in the events of the world? Even now, three years after his untimely death?

Before the Chosen Child could proceed further, Tailmon's voice shattered her focus. She turned to the white cat, finding her standing under the awning of a closed shop, rubbing the sleeves of her mackintosh vigorously. "Brrr!" her muzzle trembled. "The water's _so_ cold." Her hands moved to her feet, rubbing the clammy pads as though she could stimulate some warmth.

Her human half was not surprised by this. It was already mid-October, and fall was setting in on Japan, chilling the weather ahead of the weeks of winter awaiting the country in the months ahead.

But more importantly, Tailmon was a cat. A feline. It was in her nature to resist the cold, to experience discomfort in the presence of water. A useless trivia that invoked memories of a young, teenage girl struggling to give the Digimon of Light a bath.

This was a welcome distraction from the apprehension the weather exuded, from the anxiety troubling Hikari since the three of them left Jianliang Li and Terriermon on the porch of his house…

…which was not surprising at all. They were currently stalking the streets of the Nakano Ward, engrossed in what any sensible person would assume to be suspicious, criminal activity. While the massive volumes of water drenching the streets provided enough cover to keep them safe from the Neighborhood Watch, it highlighted the immense danger they were in, out in the open.

The few moving vehicles plying the roads might actually hit them by accident. _That_ was not something the younger Yagami looked forward to.

Hikari's coquelicot eyes gazed into Tailmon's blue. "Tailmon—

"Are we **there** yet?"

She blinked. The human turned to Veemon, who stood behind her, groaning. Hikari resisted the urge to laugh. The pink raincoat he donned was a _miraculous_ emphasis of his bright blue skin. It was funny how it complemented the patches of white that were his muzzle and what would've been his underside had he crawled on all fours like Armadimon.

What brought out a snicker from the Chosen Child was the bright tinge of red coloring his cheeks. His hands were constantly gripping the raincoat. His incessant tugging at the sleeves served to minimize the claustrophobic tightness around his biceps.

Veemon's palms had a steady presence on his waist, fingers digging into the waterproof fabric as though they had the ability to moderate the severe constriction he must be enduring there—after all, the raincoat he wore had been made for humans.

And last Hikari checked, humans didn't have a tail at least two inches thick at its base.

The feline did not look at him, vigorously rubbing her toes. "Almost."

"Ugh," Veemon moaned. "And THISis why I hate wearing clothes."

Xiaochun's coat was **barely** his size. The awkward stance and his futile efforts to keep himself comfortable were rather hilarious. Hikari would've pitied him if it wasn't for his ridiculous approach to the problem. She watched the blue dragon reach for his underside and play with it, the expression on his face varying from relief to unease and back. He was far too busy to even notice the lady scrutinizing him.

"Tailmon," he whined. One of his hands went inside his collar to create breathing room between the fabric and his white chest. "_Please_, tell me we're close!" Veemon lurched forward, increasing the spread his body sought. "I don't think I can **take** this anymore!"

"Yarrr!" Veemon reached for his butt, pinched the folds of the thick coat, and pulled. "I want…"

The dragon wiggled and waggled, scrambling for the best purchase. "…this tighty wighty…"

Twists and turns followed, before Veemon reached for his collar and tugged at it as though he had a rambunctious animal stashed away within. "OFF ME!"

Hikari Yagami couldn't hold it in anymore. "Haha!" she guffawed. Veemon's antics were a sight for sore eyes. It was as if Daisuke was right there with them, poking fun at his digital half's expense like he would a beloved, little brother.

It was as if things had never changed. As if they were still in elementary school. As if they were still in high school.

Living the good life.

Living the peaceful life.

Where happiness and authentic coexistence were a reality.

Even Tailmon began tittering—snickering in her little corner while Veemon remained within the periphery of her azure vision. His frivolous behavior thinned not only Hikari's general unease but also distracted the Digimon of Light from the cold weather.

"Hey, don't laugh at me!" Veemon yelled at the two as though he was a spoiled brat who could no longer stand being the butt of every joke. "This"—he pulled his sleeves—"**isn't**"—his waist—"funny"—his torso—"_at all_!"

The white cat couldn't hold back either. "Don't forget what Terriermon said: 'it's better than nothing'."

"Meeeehhh!" Veemon blew a raspberry at her. "First, it _had _to be a pink coat. _Then_, it had to be a pink coat two sizes TOO SMALL for me!" He pouted.

Hikari pinched his cheeks. "Awww, you're so _cute_ when you sulk." Both of them.

The hands were slapped away… _very gently_. (Obviously he didn't want Tailmon chewing him out for hurting her partner!) Veemon gave Hikari the meanest scowl that ever graced his muzzle, but given the context, it was as toothless as it was playful… "Quit it!"

…as it was daunting and meant to intimidate.

Sort of.

The Child of Light gave Veemon a friendly pat on the head or two. "Just be patient, Veemon. We'll be there soon enough." She glanced at her partner. "Won't we, Tailmon?"

"We're almost there," nodded the cat. She lifted her arm, not minding the recession of the long, oversized sleeve. Her two followers barely perceived the tips of her claws trained at an intersection two blocks away.

Specifically, the steel manhole in the middle of the street. A circular slab that, on further inspection, had the design of a fishing boat emblazoned on the surface. Even from afar, Hikari Yagami could tell it was as heavy as it looked. Entrenched by corrosion, the ever-changing weather, and the accumulated pressure from the hundreds of vehicles plying over it day after day, there was no way the three of them could lift the cover alone.

With no lifting tools at their disposal, nothing to slip in the notches and apply hundreds of pounds of force, they were done, and there was nothing they could do to really progress from here.

However, _that_ assumed they were all humans to begin with.

Tailmon certainly had more than enough strength to lift the manhole straight from its hinges. Her human half had seen the white cat _alone _take on monsters far larger and far stronger than her. Bloodthirsty beasts capable of hurling forces no manhole could ever compare to in a single swipe of their claws.

Veemon, on the other hand, merely looked like he could perform the same task. But the fact he was in his Child stage meant the spread between a human's strength and his own was narrower, much narrower, than what he would have had should he be in his Adult form.

In the end, of course, none of that mattered so long as they could pop open the cover without trouble.

And that's where the next problem reared its ugly head: an obstacle that announced the roar of a most horrible destruction, indiscriminate and capable of killing either human or digimon without a problem.

Only an idiot would be completely oblivious to the distinct rumbling pitter-patter of rain striking the shade that covered the awning, and Hikari was not foolish enough to ignore the heavenly assailants striking the fabric over her head. The downpour had been going on for three hours already—since she, Tailmon, and Veemon arrived at Janyu's house for preparations.

The drainage system below was going to be filled with water.

A torrent of greywater that impended nothing but death to urban explorers with an immense taste for adventure. Or to three rescuers whose intentions were more benevolent and munificent than those who entered the gritty and murky depths of a city's intestines.

_Joy._

As the only ones walking the streets at three in the morning, drenched in a rain so deafening it was as though the end of the world was nigh, the thoughts swirling in Hikari's head should have been the safety of her two companions and the trouble they might encounter along the way. Instead, she was thinking about the secret passage.

About the informant who provided them.

The identity troubled her. The identity troubled her brother.

Whoever apprised the Digidestined of the clandestine tunnel had disclosed its location in an SD card attached to a slip of paper. A typed document addressed directly to the Chosen Children, with the writer claiming he knew about the lodge, the entrance in the well, and the tunnels underneath Mt. Fuji.

It had been left _inside_ the lodge as though the author had full and unbridled confidence the note's intended recipients were sure to find the document rather than a random visitor or mountaineer.

A confidence that wouldn't have been unfounded or irrational, for terrorist warnings broadcast by the Digital Suppression Initiative smothered the region, repelling visitors and ensuring hikers no longer strayed from the beaten paths, out of fear for confirming the rumors of DSI soldiers hauling in trespassers and interrogating them as though they _were_ members of the Digidestined.

Fueling the rampant aversion of innocents were confirmed reports of the Vice-Chairman personally visiting the base, an event that occurs on a weekly basis. As the most powerful man on Earth, Yamaki could easily plant "evidence" in someone's belongings before publicizing the trial, indicting the innocent of treasinn against humankind and the Japanese sovereign, and enforcing the death penalty.

The Chosen Children—the Digidestined—lucked out, for the lodge that had been the site of many a gathering by and _for_ the Chosen Children was located inside a "danger zone". Roads leading to it were monitored meticulously by the forward bases, hoping to find a real Digidestined unfortunate enough to be "bagged and tagged".

For the past year and a half, these installations had scoured the landscape of Mt. Fuji and its mountainous environs, funded by government subsidies and sales revenues alike. Despite limitless financial backing, these efforts met failure and **only **failure.

It was a miracle.

A miracle that forced the DSI to such revolting cruelty.

Because only a person with intimate knowledge of the Twelve—or a close connection, at least—knew about _and_ had access to the lodge, the fact someone left a note there was proof someone inside the Digital Suppression Initiative possessed this knowledge.

It was terrifying, knowing a person that lived and breathed the same air as the Digidestined's greatest enemy had the fate of their entire movement in their hands. Thousands of lives, human and digimon alike, were but contingent on words. On events beyond their control.

Taichi and Hikari lived with constant fear, frightened for increased activity in the forward bases, or for a shocking press release that would undoubtedly slam the hammer of injustice and discrimination down on the Digidestined, down on the last known remnants of the Chosen Children.

Such apprehension proved unnecessary as time elapsed.

The Chosen of Courage and Light, along with Rika and the late Yuuji, reviewed the contents of the note when the danger finally passed. Hikari Yagami remembered clearly the informant signed the slip of paper with "Anon".

Internet slang for _anonymous_.

Speculations ran rampant. There were times when Hikari encountered Agumon, Renamon, and Tailmon discussing the informant's identity. Conversations she was drawn to like a fly, as though their subject was a lamp that overrode all senses.

.

.

_Hikari sat closer to the group, fidgeting next to her partner as if she aimed to embrace Tailmon like the cuddly animal she was. _

_In reality, the Child of Light was trying to read one of the only copies of the letter. She had only read it once, and Taichi obstinately refused to give her a copy. It was almost annoying how he tended to preclude her from strategy meetings._

_But she couldn't fault him for it._

_He was just being an overprotective, older brother, after all. Hikari had long learned such instincts never left him—not even once—even after she hit 21 years of age._

_The contents of the letter flew forth from her lips, murmured quietly so as not to disturb the others. They weren't far from the core group's quarters, but the fact they were in a utility area minimized the probabilities of outsiders dropping in._

"_I know," Hikari whispered. "I know everything. Your lodge. The secret entrance in the well. I know about the double agents you planted and the tamers you sent to burrow a way into the Military and Administration complex. All of them have been intercepted and, I assure you, Vice-Chairman Yamaki is overseeing their execution as you read the very words in this letter— _

_Renamon's quiet voice interrupted her reading._

"—_food chain, but that's what—_

_Her coquelicot gaze jolted from the copy. Hikari Yagami ogled the speaker. The yellow fox. "What?"_

"_Rika spent all day analyzing that letter yesterday," Renamon replied. "She believes only someone really high up the food chain could've written it."_

"_Why?" Hikari was poring over the first paragraph. "This seems like things anyone can get from the grapevine."_

_Tailmon turned to her. "Hikari, study the next part."_

_The Chosen Child returned her gaze to the document, vision tracing the lines word by word. "Who I am is not your concern," she read, unaware that all eyes were on her, letting the young lady recite without so much as an interruption. "It isn't as important as the information I'm about to give. It is reliable and, to my knowledge, unknown to everyone in the organization. Including our executives."_

_That last sentence had been capitalized and typed in bold, standing out amidst the wall of text. The writer pushed aside the concern of identity the instant it was mentioned, forgotten as the words transformed into what possessed the undertones of reliability and exclusivity._

_._

_._

"Hikari…"

_._

_._

_Agumon nodded as the lights of understanding glowed in Hikari's pools. "We all know how paranoid the DSI is. If a serious breach like this continues even after rotating some people, then this guy's…"_

"…_fudging the reports before it's sent to the higher-ups." The younger Yagami gasped. It made sense._

"_Look at how she dismisses her position here," Renamon adjoined, "The writer's obviously in a high-enough position."_

_._

_._

"Hey, Hikari…"

_._

_._

_The Child of Light poked the white cat. "Tailmon, what do you think?"_

_Tailmon crossed her arms. "If that's the case, I'd say somewhere in the middle. Not important like an executive, but maybe high enough to have quite a bit of power."_

.

.

"Veemon to Hikari!"

.

.

_Before the conversation went on, a masculine voice shattered the tension, perhaps sending sparks of electricity through it. "Lopmon, why're you taking me here?"_

"_Yuuji, I can smell three of the core group—oh, Hikari's here, too! Looks like they're having a— _

_._

_._

Hikari's memories never got to replay that part.

A violent shaking caused the underground cavern to tremble, enduring shockwaves comparable to a horrific eruption of Mt. Fuji. Suddenly, she was done. No longer was she present in an informal meeting. No longer was she speculating. No longer was Hikari wondering why the informant had never contacted them again in the months that passed between then and now.

Because she was back. Back to reality. Back to the sodden weather. Back to the torrent of rain pulverizing them from above. Back to the mission at hand. Back to rescuing Taichi and, it was hoped, destroying the Digital Dive System.

Veemon's scarlet eyes were the first thing she saw, blocking off most of her vision. He was staring in her coquelicot orbs with an intimacy reserved only for partners and extremely close friends.

Unfortunately, only her relationship with Taichi's digimon went _that_ far.

She backed away. "Veemon!" Hikari swore her eyes caught the drool pooling in his muzzle. Had he been planning on licking her? _Yuck. _"What're you—

"I was telling you we're heading out now," he said, shooting her digimon partner a passing glance. She was waiting five paces away, the cat's cerulean gaze filled with urgency. They were wasting time. Squandering resources they couldn't afford no differently than Westerners and their lack of financial discipline.

"But you were spacing out," he murmured, "You wouldn't even look at me when I shook you a bit. Thought I'd have to lick you to get your attention." A nervous chuckle escaped his muzzle; the blue dragon sent a nervous stare in Tailmon's direction. "Even if she kills me for it."

"And why wouldn't I?" the cat retorted. She went with the flow. "She's **MY** partner!"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Veemon. "You don't need to remind me." Her words had stung him, no matter how lightheartedly intoned. The Digimon of Miracles didn't show it, but Hikari was certain the pain was there, buried and bottled up.

.

.

"_You know what I want, Tailmon," he said, pushing the other digimon away. "Someone who can tolerate me, spend time with me, and"—Veemon chuckled, embarrassed to say it out loud—"someone who'll put me first above everything else."_

.

.

He needed Daisuke.

Hikari felt the cool touch of her bracelet, soaked with rainwater. Her eyes paid the accessory a visit, invoking an echo that went in her ears three years ago.

.

.

"_I will always be here for you. Through thick and thin. No matter what."_

_._

_.  
_

She needed Daisuke too.

If Takeru was somewhere up there in the heavens, Hikari was certain her beloved would be happier if their best friend stood by her side…

* * *

Tailmon's blue eyes were fixed on the fishing boat. It was a delicate work of art. A depiction of something that was Japanese in construction and design. The sail buffeted by the wind. The pointed end tearing through the water like a wedge. There was a profound difference between Japanese fishing boats and their brethren in Asia. For one thing, they didn't have bamboo logs protruding from the sides like a pair of training wheels.

Tourists would wonder at this item's level of detail and, perhaps, consider advocating the ubiquitous blocks of steel as an outlet, an avenue, of cultural development and social concerns, for there was no other nation in the world that would turn these boring objects into works of art. Some of them, colorful. Others, possessing designs so intricate the artists might as well have colluded with the city to form something no one—not even copycats—could ever duplicate.

But the Digimon of Light felt no regrets as her fist slammed the canvas, tearing through an inch of solid steel as though it was paper. Her claws mutilated the fishing boat, mincing it into several pieces of metal that literally fell into an ocean. Into the rapids scuttling beneath.

And soon shall the fishing boat head out to sea.

If the rain above could be described as a torrent that fell on their heads, overwhelming her feline ears with a sound no different from a howling wind, the floodwaters below were best delineated as a maelstrom of hydrological chaos. A black nothingness that trumpeted its arrival with an unearthly rumble like the stomach of a giant, salivating beast of doom. A terrifying void that would engulf the unfortunate and drag them to their deaths without pause, slamming their fragile bodies on concrete walls, battering them with debris, and drowning them in blackwater.

It would certainly be a humiliating death as it was a dreadful one. After all, dying in a deluge of fecal matter, urine, chemicals, and a wild assortment of rubbish wasn't very appealing to the ears.

The more Tailmon stared down into the black hole, gaping before her like the throat of a ravenous monster that lusted for her meat, the more she realized they could succumb to this dreadful, humiliating death. Hesitation struck the cat, infusing her with fear.

Fear for Veemon.

Fear for her partner.

Fear for herself.

Fear for the consequences of failure.

Fear for what their deaths would ramify.

Hikari's and Veemon's eyes were bare, their night-vision nowhere near as Tailmon's. The human and the blue dragon were creatures biologically unqualified for this moment, yet there was nothing they could do to avoid this route.

The only known, unsecured entrance to the DSI was through here. Coming in from above was absolutely more dangerous than the path they were about to take, and finding the pipe itself to mitigate this risk required time they could no longer waste.

They had to—they _must_ go down and risk it.

Hikari Yagami didn't like it. "Tailmon." She stood at the edge, her gaze trained not on the flimsy ladder of steel descending the drenched wall, but the opaque blackness that surged with the power of a hundred thunderclaps. The hollow, booming echoes of a waterfall. "Can we actually do this?"

Could she discern the wastewater streaming through the tunnels?

Could her inferior body perceive the monstrous crash of this deluge and feel its terrifying gales?

Tailmon snuck a peek at Veemon. Surprise failed to take root when her gaze noticed a familiar hesitation flash across his muzzle. Though he probably had tremendous difficulty perceiving the speeding floods, surely his dragonic ears were sensitive enough to distinguish their piercing screams.

She watched him swallow his fears, gulping them down as he balled his fists. Her cobalt stare noticed one hand rubbing a pouch on his baldric, rubbing so vigorously for strength Tailmon grew curious from what was stored within. The lips on his muzzle moved slightly. He whispered what she assumed were words of encouragement.

The Digimon of Light would've been right. "You can do this, Veemon," he was murmuring. "You can do this. You don't need Christopher. You don't need anyone else. You won't be a burden to your _real_ friends."

If she heard them, Tailmon would think to herself his undertones were sweet. "You're gonna get your life back. You're gonna find Daisuke, and you're gonna fight the DSI and _win_. You'll definitely get that happy future…"

He squeezed the emptiness in his hands, imagining that happy future was there, imagining Daisuke Motomiya was with him again, imagining his eponymous victory was literally within his reach.

But Tailmon did not see any of this, for she opted to answer her partner's question. "There's a path of indentations six rungs down. We can use them to shimmy along the sides. Above the water."

"Can we _actually_ do this?" she repeated.

Had Hikari sought the same answer, she wouldn't have asked the question again. Tailmon's intimate relationship with her own partner shone in how she knew exactly what the junior Yagami wanted without seeking clarification. "This was all Taichi's doing. He had Renamon and I tear up a path of footholds on the wall just in case it's raining hard."

"He went down _there_?"

"And noted the highest level the water has reached." Tailmon approached her human half and held her hands. Held it as if she was her lover. As if she was her sister. Her mother. Tailmon grasped Hikari the way only a true partner would. "Hikari, we can do this. We, _can_."

"But… the water…"

She had realized death would come from one little slip. If so much as the **ankle** touched the dark rush, that was it. The sheer force of the flood would upend the explorer's balance and rip the body from the wall, sinking the victim beneath the waters and guaranteeing the most humiliating and the most terrifying death. Even Tailmon couldn't imagine Vamdemon being subjected to such agony. She wouldn't be _that_ cruel to think so.

"I know," Tailmon confirmed. "But don't think about that. The pipe we're after is 10 meters upstream. I'll take point and lead us to it." The lady's countenance remained unchanged. "Don't worry, it'll take five, maybe ten minutes for us to get there from here, _on_ the footholds. And if you're scared, you can hold my tail."

"Have you ever tried—

"Taichi did. Believe me, Hikari, your brother thought of everything**.**"

Hikari retreated, her coquelicot eyes dilating at the imperceptible chasm paces from her feet. Tailmon's senses picked up her human half's accelerating heart, pulsating to the beat of a soldier's war drum. Her breathing became shallow, and the Child of Light began palpitating.

Tailmon tightened her paws, squeezing their clasp. "Hikari…"

A child-like voice blew the dramatic scene apart. "I'll be right behind you!"

The two Chosen turned to its speaker. They saw the blue dragon regarding them with what was beyond doubt a reassuring expression soldered to his muzzle.

"I'll watch your back, Hikari," muttered Veemon. "That way, if you slip, I can catch you. There's no way I'm letting the water take you. I'm a digimon, so I got the strength for it." And he flashed a silly grin he could have only gotten from years of living with Daisuke Motomiya. "So stop worrying!"

That grin that defied all despair and fright, banishing them with a radiance that was possible solely from someone who was either incredibly optimistic…

_Or an idiot_, Tailmon mused, letting a smile grace her snout.

But Veemon's beliefs were mistaken. That he was a digimon didn't matter. He was merely a Child level. That was that. Tailmon, being an Adult, had better chances of survival, but only if she didn't lose the holy ring worn on her tail.

Yet Hikari's confidence returned. Raised up by the combined efforts of the two digimon beside her. Because of it, Tailmon did not correct Veemon's error. She did not rectify his mistaken assertion. She just didn't have it in her to be a killjoy.

"Let's go," said the Digimon of Light, descending the galvanized step irons. It took a lot of guts to ignore her bristling fur. She disregarded the overpowering instinct to flee as she climbed down, feeling the mist that swirled in the rushing air.

The roars were so loud it assaulted her sharp ears to no end and rang rows and rows of bells as the powerful gusts of wind toyed with them. As soon as her feet rapped the sixth rung, her cerulean eyes dared cast themselves down. Tailmon felt the oily sweat pouring out of her paws and hear the throbbing of her own heart whilst her vision absorbed the sight of raging waters so close to her feet, one end descending like a true waterfall.

The highest crests narrowed their margin of safety to no more than four inches. _One slip and you're finished._ The end. Game over.

Pushing such thoughts away, Tailmon bent her muzzle up and away from the unforgiving rapids, veering it rightward to see how far they had to go. Her incisive night-vision was her only asset in this situation…

…yet her eyes were **almost useless**. The part of the tunnel unoccupied by wastewater was virtually imperceptible, cloaked in so much darkness not even Tailmon could discern the indentations she and Renamon had made in the past.

And there.

There it was.

She saw the gaping pipe in her line of vision, slightly protruding from the wall. But it was far. So far away that Tailmon **barely** discerned its form. Photons were virtually absent in its immediate areas.

This was more difficult than she expected. **It bordered on insane.** They had to shimmy carefully. She didn't want any of the group to die here.

She gazed upward, finding her partner's rear end staring at her in the face. The younger Yagami was standing on the fourth step iron. "Hikari!" she yelled, hoping her fragile ears could not only withstand the constant barrage, but also discern her voice. "Take two more steps down, got it? It's _less than four inches_ to the water! The path's on your right!"

Tailmon faced the black pipe. Her eyes narrowed the instant she did, pounded by the crushing vortices flying through the drainage as though it was forever married to the raging flood. Tears began trickling down, blurring her vision. Tailmon worked simultaneously to find and swing to the next indent.

Her companions' heights weren't going to be a problem. As far as she could recall, three rows were made then, so the typical stature of a Child-level didn't undermine progress. Hikari would certainly perch her hands on the ones at the very top while Veemon and herself placed theirs on the mezzanine row.

"I can't see!"

Hikari's shrill holler hardly pierced the omnipresent thunder. Tailmon kept on going, unwary.

"TAILMON!"

"What?" she shouted, hoping her digital half heard the response.

She did. "I CAN'T SEE!"

"Feel your way!" Tailmon instructed her. "I can _barely_ see myself!"

"Whaaaatt?"

"FEEL YOUR WAY!"

The Digimon of Light was already a meter in when she curved her head, looking back the way she came. Her heart fluttered when she saw Hikari struggling to keep up. Tailmon sensed the terror radiating from her partner as she felt around the walls, seeking available space for her hands and feet.

Her arms trembled, shivering from both the cold and the level of effort it took to keep her body from falling backwards into a Shinigami's swimming pool. How long the Chosen Child could hold on was unknown. That she had been on a fitness regime since mid-2010 barely allayed her fears. They had to get out of here as soon as possible.

Veemon, as he promised, was directly behind her. Though he probably couldn't see a thing in front of his muzzle, at least his sense of smell was still present. Tailmon could swear she just heard him complain about the earthy, murky odor of pure, unadulterated mud and shit emanating from the water. An understandable grievance considering his nose was as sensitive as her own.

Indeed, the smell was terrible. That a community of humans would venture into storm drains for fun boggled her mind. _To each his own. _Even if it was a momentary distraction, Tailmon had to give the blue dragon some credit. Not everyone can make light of even the most serious of situations.

_Halfway there_, Tailmon noted by the eighth time she craned her neck towards their destination. The dense fog that blanketed the air drenched her fur. Tailmon shut her eyes to protect them from the wind. She felt the depth of the next two indents. Her paw clamped on the soggy hole, sliding slightly from the algae that now coated it and every single notch preceding it.

The Digimon of Light opened her eyes in a little slit, peeking at the destination. It was closer, though obscured much further by the dark—

Tailmon's hand slipped as she was swinging to the next indent. Her foot fell from the bottom notch. All of a sudden, the feline found herself descending into the churning rage. "CRAP!"

Her tail was the first to submerge. An instant was all it took for it to gain speed. From zero to sixty (kilometers per hour).

The cat attempted to recover by reaching for the indent again, only for her last remaining lifeline—only for her other hand to slip, loosened by the algae. She was falling sideways into the water! Even if she couldn't see the waves, her nose told her she had only an instant before death—

Her foot sank beneath the water.

"AH!" she screamed. "NO!"

Her heart clawed for respite. She breathed as though every single one was her last. Tailmon felt the oil in her toes and felt something like plastic bump the pads of her foot. It gave way to her frantic search for purchase, yielding so easily she could've just made a stroke in the water and it wouldn't have made a difference.

Yet it did.

It gave her body the illusion of balance.

An illusion Tailmon used to surrender herself to her desperation.

She slammed her paws into the steel wall, punching it so hard they created _new _indentations as they buried themselves in the thick concrete.

The water refused to let her go! In a split second it snapped at her, pulling so hard Tailmon realized she had gotten herself in a tug-of-war between life and death. Between earth and water. It fought for her the way Veemon would fight for the last bit of food, engaging in a most brutal and exhausting game to see who could eat it first, never to relent. (A game that Patamon, apparently, enjoyed as much as Daisuke did.)

Tailmon felt her own arms sliding slowly, gradually out of the pits they dug themselves in. If she continued to hold on like this, sooner or later, the water would win.

Like hell she was allowing that. She wasn't going to die in a gurgling pipe of liquefied _shit_. Tailmon refused to would let the rapids have their way; the white cat scraped the notch with her other foot. All three of her limbs dug into the spaces, supplying the leverage the digimon needed to escape the enormous drag sucking her feet.

Without stopping, Tailmon created more holes as she ascended into safety, rising to her reprieve. At the moment she finally recovered, at the second the Chosen felt the adrenaline fading away from her body, yielding to the ambient thunder and gust. "That, haa, was close…"

By the Harmonious Ones she felt utterly victorious. Like a proud survivor.

Then Hikari had to ruin it as soon as she realized what had happened. Despite the enveloping cacophony overwhelming her hearing, the Child of Light felt—_endured_—every quiver the wall made accompanying her desperate struggles.

"Tailmon," she yelled over the tunnel's thunderous wrath. "I hope you didn't forget I'm _here_ if you need to evolve!"

Nefertimon could fly over the blackwater. Angewomon… well, even if _she_ was too big to fly in this tube, Tailmon's Ultimate form was doubtlessly strong enough to the point the violent flood had the pressure of a running faucet.

Looked like all that worry and anxiety were all for naught.

_Whoops._

Tailmon felt her insignificant pride deflate like a short-lived bull run in the financial markets. The cat spent the next two seconds wondering if this was how Daisuke and Veemon felt whenever someone burst their bubbles.

Just two seconds. Tailmon enjoyed being the voice of realism and common sense. Plus, the three of them weren't out of danger yet. They still had to get out of that tunnel.

So the next time the white cat decided to check on their progress, a smile formed on her muzzle. The drainage pipe they were shimmying to was **literally** the next in line. Her paws reached out to it, caressing the short protrusion with happiness.

"WE'RE HERE!" the Chosen screeched. She hoped her voice reached her companions. "WE'RE CLIMBING INTO THE PIPE!"

Aided by the dexterity only a digital monster could have, Tailmon ascended the indentations directly underneath the tube and slid into it with ease. A perfect fit! At 500 millimeters (1.64 ft.) Tailmon had only to bend her head down. She could walk through it easily.

Too bad the same didn't go for the other two.

Neither thought nor the emotion of pity streamed through her mind. Tailmon was too busy lending a helpful hand—paw to the two lagging behind. She let her limb linger in the air, hovering above for Hikari to grasp as her right hand arrived, feeling its way to the next path.

"A little more!" she cheered, ogling the almost-impalpable silhouettes of her partner and best friend. "Just a little more and we'll be out—

**BAM!**

A burst as loud as a shotgun blast right next to the ears rattled the air, jarring the continuous noise of in the tunnel. Whatever caused it had a mass so large, the crash ramified into a powerful quaking that upended the balance of **everyone** holding on to the wall.

"AAAGGGHHHHH!" screamed her human half.

Tailmon's and Hikari's hands met for the briefest of moments. The Digimon of Light lurched forward and seized her partner before she could fall—

A refrigerator! While a mere outline, the white cat had lived in the Real World for so long there was no mistaking it! _No wonder it shook the pipe! Considering the speed…_

Seemingly guided by the hand of Demon, the colossal machine was not yet finished. The currents steered it straight at Hikari Yagami, and it was only **by sheer luck **the Child of Light did not have her legs crushed to a bloody pulp at that moment.

"Buddha!" Hikari exclaimed. "Something touched me!"

The worst was far from over.

Veemon's bleating reached her indigo-tipped ears. _Oh no._ "WAH! SOMETHING GOT MY LE—

**Splash!**

He fell.

"SHIT, VEEMON!"

* * *

The most curious of people may probably be wondering, what would happen had Christopher accompanied Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon, tagging along through their precarious trip to the DSI's military and administration wing? What would've happened if the blond man somehow threw off the veneer of selfishness and self-preservation, casting it aside to appease his dormant morality, to position himself underneath the virtues of charity, compassion, and friendship and extol them to the best of his ability?

Although a _potential_ answer to that would certainly be a much happier Veemon—because they would still be friends _and_ because Chris would devote his efforts to reuniting him with Daisuke—a more certain scenario, perhaps one grounded in determined reality, would be the pointlessness of shimmying in that dark and dank tunnel swirling with a churning flood.

Christopher Van Numen would be scoffing at the hesitation flickering in the trio's faces. He'd leap into the eddy without fear of being swept away. To him, what was a torrential vortex imparting a quick and grisly demise to all it abducted was a gentle stream. Like a relaxing breeze in the air.

A zephyr that, unfortunately, bore the overpowering aroma of the most wonderful combination of sludge, feces, bacteria, and other unmentionables.

This was only reason why he would _possibly _consider shimmying along the walls of a slippery drainage pipe like a certain caped crusader addicted to bats.

Whether Christopher shimmied or strolled, the idea was now inconceivable, for he chose his mission above his conscience, above the demands of a nascent friendship. He disregarded what he had long acknowledged as a growing attachment to the blue dragon. Instead of providing aid for his friends, instead of promising support in his single-minded pursuit of his beloved brother, Chris spurned him, playing the part of a ruthless villain who would willingly manipulate others for personal gain.

"A ruthless villain," the blond perpended in idle amusement. Funny, he thought. It had a nice ring to it. A fair complement to the fresh corpse dangling from his hand—a security guard that once had his skull intact, now crushed as though processed by an industrial crusher.

If guilt and remorse still reverberated within him, if remnants of his agony from irrevocably dissolving his friendship with Veemon haunted him even now, such emotions were not visible in his vacant expression. Christopher _oozed_ apathy, the holes that were his goldenrod eyes shimmering deadpan.

He dissociated from the atrocious horrors he was committing. He had nothing personal against all the people he slaughtered like animals, each one now populating the floor of the Sunrise Offices as bloody cadavers.

It was simply business. They were safeguarding the building. He was invading it. Nothing was simpler than this. Chris drilled his numbing thoughts deep into his psyche, hoping it'd appease the buried, suffering conscience that now rumbled like a volcano. _Yes_, he deluded himself, _It's just business. That's all._

Multiple concerns were at stake here. Matters that deadened anyone lost in the territories of the Divine. Christopher Van Numen understood the gravity of the situation this universe was in. Cognizant of his powerful influence over the Real and Digital Worlds—the war—the injustice that saturated the bond between two intelligent species.

Any action the exogenous man took here had a compounding effect across the board. Everything revolving around the blond outsider ramified into the universe, its specifics aggravated greatly by _local affairs_—the war and the injustice, the rushed development of humankind, the lives of hundreds—thousands—or perhaps, millions.

The blond was a catalyst. An epitome of change, capable of transforming the null hypothesis without lifting a finger. He was virtually a god, albeit a wandering, vagabond god that drifted across the Space Between Worlds, motivated solely by the most selfish and destructive of purposes.

Sustained by such thoughts Christopher kept walking, ever moving forward…

The Sunrise Offices was heavily guarded. Such attention and detail to security did not escape his notice. At first glance, the building seemed no different from the average office building of the urban landscape. It was plain. It rose into the air, overflowing with the aura of professionalism. The parking lots surrounding it were empty, and a side entrance on the side—an entrance into its capacious basement—gawped at him, its mouth open, accepting all visitors.

When the brightest blue washed over the goldenrod hue of his eyes, when Christopher Van Numen activated the Realm Scanner, the world turned black and white. The side entrance, in particular, had become a mesh of crisscrossing light.

A miracle computer, the indestructible shield on his left arm was incomparable to all. Its neural technology was tethered to his brain, processing everything his eyes absorbed before reproducing them as a finished product. A filtered and modified vision that had proven an asset throughout his journey.

Christopher's gaze was powered by thermal imaging. One look was all it took to realize the side entrance was armed with infrared lasers. Switching to the electromagnetic spectrum revealed glowing wires traveling further in, as though portending a fate for invaders who dared to enter.

He did not enter, thinking he could minimize the loss of lives by storming the front. Ivan Beleegar would have rebuked him for being a hypocrite, particularly after the absolute domination of his will on both the Digidestined and a group of innocents.

The security detail that greeted him confirmed Fujieda's admission. Such corroborations, however, were unnecessary in the first place. Christopher was a master at intimidating the inferior and the powerless. He sauntered in, armed with the confidence in her intel. That it was indistinguishable, so to speak, from a white shirt bought from the department store: stain-free, colors vibrant.

As soon as the battle was over—it was really a massacre, reminiscent of ants battling an unstoppable force—Christopher Van Numen stood idly, expectantly watching the lobby as though more challengers were coming to meet their Maker. Fortunately _for them_, the blond's guaranteed victory had been witnessed in full view by discretely-installed cameras.

Perhaps whoever was cooped inside a box of television screens, LCD monitors, and computers was stricken with fear. Perhaps news of his invincibility spread out, paralyzing the elite of security. His opponents had fought with a tenacity only gained through treacherous combat experience, however minimal.

It was clear to Chris he would've lost had he been an ordinary human. The corpses sprawled around him must have been soldiers. _Active_ soldiers who were constantly trained to keep their talents honed and instincts sharp.

Another odd detail that contributed to the menacing grin widening on his countenance. Indeed, the DSI's research and development wing was underneath this building. Otherwise the security here was excessive, not to mention an unsustainable drain on the landlord's operating profits.

The blond ambled to the fire escape, ripping the door from its hinges and tossing it to the side without effort. If anyone was considering a surreptitious approach, witnessing this made them reconsider. He smiled at its simplistic structure, noting the gaps between each flight. Though banisters and railings barred the sensible from an unlucky fall, it was easy to leap over into empty space.

A normal man would've fallen to his doom five stories down.

Christopher would've doomed anyone waiting for him.

At the bottom of the shaft he eyed the solid slab of wood and steel and hurled his fist. It flew from the frame with its hinges still attached, smashing into a supporting pillar. The impact crumbled both, and the blood that seeped from beneath the rubble told Christopher he slew a guard in the midst of his patrol.

Who probably saw a flying door moments before it smashed his face into goo.

The blond meandered out the stairwell, leaving nothing behind except a small and foot-deep crater—the only mark of his descent. Bullets were fired the instant he stepped out. Fancy footwork or exaggerated evasive maneuvers were unnecessary for someone of his caliber. Through his impeccable eyesight and unnatural reflexes, to Chris the machine pistol that unleashed its 9mm's might as well be hurling volleyballs.

Though potent at shredding human flesh and barraging them with hundreds of tiny, high-speed projectiles _a minute_, against this ruthless villain it was no different from a water gun. A composed demeanor ushered him. Chris calmly walked on as though he was outside, enjoying a tour of the Metropolis. Each step brought him closer to the guard who spammed his gun, fear becoming more evident as every single shot failed to even strike someone who seemed preoccupied with a leisurely stroll.

Fear transformed into a sickening dread when Christopher was suddenly in front of him, traveling from fifty feet off to _six inches_ away in a tenth of a second. He jerked the Minebea PM-9 from the guardsman's grip and, crushing the barrel with his merciless hands, tossed it into the wall where it shattered. Those same hands simultaneously gripped his assailant's neck, slamming him into the wall like he did with Veemon a week ago.

But he was not the same Chris who overwhelmed Veemon while he was weak, fatigued, and lacking the intent to kill. He was not the same Chris who threw Kiriha Ichijouji into the wall, assailed by the spell of his self-inflicted agony.

He was the Chris who moved on and rose above the surface—struggling for life!—after fleeing and committing so many atrocities he had long lost count. The monster that condemned a civilization, erased a squad of policemen, blackmailed innocents on the threat of rape, and manipulated one who would have become a loyal friend.

The blond demon that suppressed his nagging conscience to face the hardest decisions he had ever made.

All for the sake of the two worlds.

For their balance.

For his aspirations of normal life.

.

.

"_Just keep on going," urged the echoes of his recent memories. "KEEP WALKING! Never, __**EVER**__ doubt your dreams just because fate—destiny—_life—_is being hard on you."_

.

.

"I will alter my fate," Chris vowed. "And I'll do whatever it takes."

Instead of choking the man to death, he thumped him down on the floor and pulverized the fragile body. The impact tore the fresh corpse asunder until it was no longer recognizable. Chris was covered in blood and he did not care. Goldenrod orbs zoomed in at a narrow corridor by the far corner, in front of which six guards were garrisoned behind a concrete divider.

They huddled against each other, aiming their M9's despite the foreknowledge such weapons were useless against him. Chris stood there, watching, ogling them with a stare so piercing a civilian would be compelled to shoot himself rather than endure the terrifying scrutiny.

"H-h-he's, he's **just** standing!"

In spite of the great distance separating them from each other, his sensitive ears easily picked up their echoes in this hollow basement.

"W, what're we gonna do? We can't let him get to the elevators!"

"Dammit! I didn't expect _this_ when the JSDF assigned me here!"

"What **is** he? Some kind of SCAI?"

"A SCAI? What the eff; SCAI's don't look human!"

"Buddha! He's coming! GUYS, HE'S COMING!"

Christopher Van Numen approached them casually. The closer he was, the tighter they snuggled up to each other. He could see their legs shaking, the guns in their hands quaking in unadulterated terror. How mortal they must have felt! All six, very cognizant of the looming torment.

To these soldiers, he was a god. A god of death and destruction. Chris felt like scoffing at their toys. Standard issues were powerless against his deviant invincibility. Their fright was palpable, ostensible in their decision to kneel behind the four-foot dividers, if not for cover then just to keep the demon out of sight.

They couldn't have known they were defenseless. Even if those concrete blocks were swapped for wood, the result was still the same. Chris, however, only slew those who obstructed him. These men looked like they didn't give a damn for their jobs, for their body language constantly shouted "I WANT OUT!"

If that was the case, he was feeling merciful enough to give the six one chance. "Get out of my way and you live," he verbalized nonchalantly. "Block my path to R&D and die."

One guard gasped, eyes dilating. "He knows about the entrance!"

Another exclaimed. "Even if you pass us, the elevator's secured with biometrics! You won't—

The naysayer was dead, his head hanging from Chris' hands, blood dripping from where it had been connected to the neck. He was in the midst of tearing the newly deceased's hand from the body when the blond muttered offhandedly. "Any more volunteers?"

All of them ran, fleeing for dear life.

His path now free of unwanted obstructions, Chris strode through the corridor with a composure many would surely associate with psychopaths—murderers and serial killers. The end of the corridor contained a couple of elevators, their steel doors painted such that they melded seamlessly into the concrete wall.

The blond demon paused for a quick scrutiny. He was awed—amazed at the lengths the DSI took just to conceal the location of R&D from outsiders and spies. No one would ever suspect the most advanced technology on Earth, derived from the psychics of the Digital World, underwent development deep beneath what was clearly one of Tokyo's many residential zones.

If it weren't for Tina's information, the intense security, and the flat panel of steel on the sides, Christopher Van Numen couldn't have found R&D's entrance on his own.

The camouflaged double doors opened wide as soon as the dismembered body parts he carried were used to bypass the security measures. He tossed them in with him, just in case he still needed their DNA.

Such precautions became unnecessary.

The insides of the lift were barren, save for a couple of buttons on the side and a panel accessible only to those who had the key—or the strength to destroy it. Identification was not required now that he was in.

A security measure inside the lift seemed stupid to him. There was no need for redundancy here. He recalled Tina's confession with the exact clarity as Veemon's memory. The first elevator led to a security checkpoint. A hub that existed _solely_ to screen and process individuals coming in and out.

Whatever waited for him down here was beyond his imaginations. Christopher expected people and high-powered weaponry, but in a world where monsters coexist with humankind in a twisted reflection of concupiscence, he was better off withholding them lest he court surprise.

Already something strange was happening to the elevator. The steel walls were becoming unnatural. Adopting a foreign aura that left Chris reeling from the impression of incongruity and strangeness. He was entering a place that didn't belong. A setting that, by the laws of physics, shouldn't exist.

It reminded him of the Digital World, where every molecule was pronounced with a synthetic quality. If that was not proof enough that the data particles comprising this other plane of reality adhered to a different set of existential rules, was there anything else that could foot the bill?

It also reminded him of himself. Of the experiences he had faced to date. Chris remembered all too clearly the distrust felt by everyone who laid eyes on him. A nagging suspicion dogging his every step. Did he exude this foreign aura as well? This unnatural air? Did he, too, instill feelings of incongruity and strangeness in everyone he met?

Was this what it was like, to be bothered in the face of something that did not belong here?

It was a frightening experience. Not even Christopher was immune from the unease taking a stroll up his spine.

He half-wondered whether Veemon ever felt this numbing chill. His real friends had felt it at one point or another, after all; naturally, quite a bit of time was spent ignoring the pall until a sense of trust replaced it. Yet as far as he could recall, the blue dragon never regarded him with caution or guarded words.

Why? He asked himself. Why was he so f*cking _trusting_? Chris clenched his fists. If Veemon hadn't been so overt in his yearnings for the past, if he hadn't been suffering from being separated from his precious Daisuke for far too long, none of this would have happened. He was sure of it.

Maybe the DSI wouldn't have gotten their nasty power-ups. Maybe this Taichi fellow he and his two friends were now in the process of rescuing would have succeeded. Maybe, he continued speculating, maybe Veemon would have stayed in the Digital World like a good little dragon. That scene he made at Mt. Fuji probably wouldn't have happened; the many lives Chris wiped from the face of the Earth in his fury would still be alive.

He half-wondered whether the threads of fate were entwined in the unfolding events. Were they actors guided by the invisible hand? Were they nothing more but characters, whose capacities for self-determination were undermined by an unfeeling writer—an omnipotent author that had nothing better to do except enthused prostitution to the ideals of entertainment and fame?

.

.

_Felicia delineated his nature well. She felt no sympathies for the man that convulsed at her every step, his amber gaze locked on the ebon, pulsating sphere glowing in her hands. "You are a curse, bringing tragedy wherever you go. Everything you suffer from now was your fault from the very beginning!"_

.

.

The present circumstances boggled the mind. All the complications that caused it couldn't have been coincidence. Meeting the Digimon of Miracles, staying in this universe, discovering the presence of the third Fragment…

He remembered the look of recognition crossing that woman's orange eyes. The growling suspicion in the cat's expression. The horror evident in the way they carried themselves around him—always wary, as though waiting for something to happen.

Something was at work here.

**Destiny **was at work here.

.

.

"_People_ control_ their destiny, Veemon. There is no such thing as fate."_

_._

_.  
_

Christopher scowled. After all that work, after all the suffering and anger he endured just to get spare someone from meeting the same, gruesome ends as his real friends, he failed?—Failed to escape?—Failed to evade kismet's unrelenting talons?

He refused to accept it. This was all a product of their individual traits and choices. There was no element of predestination. It was all coincidence. Sheer _luck_!

The elevator stopped.

It pulled Chris from his darkening thoughts. He was here. The security hub: a small space constructed a hundred feet below sea level for a purpose that needed no clarification.

.

.

_Tina Fujieda chuckled at Christopher's probing questions. "A special kind of biometrics like no other," she responded to his inquiry on security. "DSI's got the entire checkpoint __**inside**__ a Digital Field." _

_._

_.  
_

The twin doors parted from the middle like a woman's legs in the midst of her heat. Christopher vacated the elevator, entering a space reminiscent of a warehouse. It was a long passage. Four stories high, twenty feet wide, and equivalent to a football field in length.

Much of the checkpoint was empty, with only markings on the floor indicating where employees and scientists lined up for inspection. The bareness of the hub baffled him. Where were the patrols? Where were the soldiers?

Surely he was entering one of the most elusive, manmade facilities in the world. That old man back at Mt. Fuji described R&D the way anyone would have described the infamous Area 51. The Digital Suppression Initiative's obsession for the R&D Wing's security logically called for plenty of weapons, plenty of men, and _certainly_ plenty of traps.

Chris was already a quarter of a way through and until now he had yet to encounter anything _resembling_ security. Goldenrod eyes darted across the corridor, glancing at the translucent windows above. The rooms within were lit, yet devoid of shadows—no one was inside.

Was anyone actually guarding the place?

Either the head of security was a crazy son of a _bitch_ begging to be fired by the boss, or whatever they had in store for him necessitated such spacious architecture. Chris kept his cool. Confident. There was nothing here that could hurt him anyway. He was invincible. There was nothing to fear—_wait a minute_, he stopped himself.

It just occurred to him the walls—the floors—the ceiling—were shimmering with an otherworldly hue, reminiscent of Digital Modification. Were they being reinforced by—

The lights around Christopher turned scarlet, blanketing the blond in its glow. His goldenrod eyes turned blue at once, the R-Scanner's HUD displaying a map of the place. It didn't take its computers more than seven seconds to scan the æther particles of the corridor and reproduce a map for Chris' use.

Neither did it take seven seconds for multiple sentry turrets to pop out of previously-unseen panels, their barrels aimed straight at the blond. Security drones rolled out of openings along the wall, each one armed with a minigun and explosives. Filtering and identification programs within the Realm Scanner indicated their ammunition was fitted with depleted uranium instead of steel. The explosives looked ordinary…

…until one of the drones opened fire, hurling a spherical object that burst into a cloud of electricity and lightning on impact.

Automated Digital Modification.

The voltage was enough to send jolts of paralysis throughout his entire body, enough to slow him down and diminish his reflexes.

But not enough to deal significant damage.

Christopher would've ignored these obstacles if it weren't for the fact his attempt to save time might just result in causing a cave-in, or otherwise destroying his only path into R&D. A risk he was not willing to take.

_Besides_, he thought, _I need a little exercise._

* * *

Lucille Diaz did not spare the details. Though she took care of Yamaki's comprehension the way a mother would care for a child, the soldier made sure he understood enough to know just how much was at stake here.

"By operating on a quick survey of the battlegrounds, we assumed most tangos were going to be Rookie and Champion class SCAI's. Albert was betting on one of the Chosen being there, mourning over the loss of that useless lizard. Had we succeeded, we would've killed another of the Twelve, captured a critical area, and obtained information that would've led us to the Tactician's primary base of operations."

The Modifier sauntered to the glass tube, her hazel eyes gazing intently at the Child of Miracles. They regarded Daisuke Motomiya with so much hate he might as well have been responsible for the disaster that was the Midnight Assault.

"We never expected the Midnight Assault to fall apart…"

Indeed, Daisuke _was_.

"…and by this guy's SCAI, no less." She frowned.

Yamaki's ultramarine orbs widened. Lucy believed his astonishment was real. Despite his fearsome reputation as a shrewd and cunning manager, the Vice-Chairman was actually easy to read. "You mean _Veemon_? Kikuchi confirmed his deletion at the Spire of Courage! I received his report just before you came in."

She was observing the floating body. Lucy watched him twitch at his words. The serene expression on the Chosen Child's face, for a brief second, contorted from the relaxed and indifferent expression of sleep to a grimace embracing unease and discomfort.

The soldier leaned forward, trying to make sense of this. The tubes plunging directly into Daisuke's arteries fed, on a daily basis, powerful sedatives straight into his body. Drugs capable of knocking out elephants and, through Digital Modification, Champion-class SCAI at modest volumes.

_His movements should be involuntary_, she pondered. _So why does he look like he's in pain?_ Why did Daisuke Motomiya's unconscious form appear worried—or perhaps, furious?

Drugged to sleep, the Child of Miracles was at this point a glorified corpse. A living cadaver perpetuated merely for the sake of science. Since his incarceration two years ago Daisuke never saw the light of day again. He never saw light at all to begin with.

He lived in a world of darkness, boxed in by artificial slumber. His muscles, eaten away by the atrophy of time. Even the many experiments performed on his body—most involving blood extraction and merciless infusions of chemicals—failed to rescue him from limbo.

Scientists and doctors had long declared him a vegetable… at least until someone ordered him off the sedatives and narcotics. A scenario that was highly unlikely—no one knew where he was. Moreover, Vice-Chairman Yamaki had, for reasons known only to him, very little interest in returning consciousness to him.

Despite powerful tranquilizers coursing throughout his bloodstream, despite being unconscious for the past two years, despite scientists violating him repeatedly like a worthless whore in a sex den, the Child of Miracles flinched as though he was part of this conversation. As though he heard every word being spoken in front of him and was capable of response.

She gyrated, resuming eye contact with the Vice-Chairman. "That's what we all believed, Mr. Yamaki. Thought he died—murdered by a human with a sword."

Lucy saw his eyebrows rise. The bastard didn't believe her. "A _sword_?" he reiterated, his voice incredulous. Yamaki didn't hide his opinion, lacing his derision through cadence.

The Modifier crossed her arms and continued her story, refusing to bite. "Turned out that lizard _befriended_ this guy, deceived Kikuchi, and somehow dragged him into the Great Forest hours before we struck."

"I can't see how one guy made such a diff—

"YES IT DID!" she erupted. "T-that _Christopher_…"

Verbalizing the name brought her back to the satellite base. Once more she had returned to the Clinic, to the moment she freed Aldo Kikuchi from Wormmon's silk threads. Lucille Diaz could feel the stupor—the shock seeping in from her memories. "He only **looks** human," she stressed, "when he's **really** a monster."

She remembered the scout's words perfectly. Aldo's voice echoed inside her, informing—reminding—emphasizing the threat he posed to the Digital Suppression Initiative.

"His strength…"

.

.

_Bullets were useless, bouncing harmlessly off Christopher's skin. Undaunted he stepped forward and thrust, intending to impale Haseo's neck with the three-foot, ebon blade in his hands. Kazuki watched the blond nearly slaughter his comrade in cold blood. Though a well-trained soldier, even a man like him felt the pangs of fear creeping up his spine._

_._

_.  
_

"…his speed…"

.

.

_But his willpower was great, for he did not let it deter him from steadying his modified gun and pulling the trigger, hurtling lime spheres from the blond's flank. Kazuki had only the capacity to gasp in horror as his target eluded the orbs with an otherworldly ease. The Modifier desperately tried to escape his position, only for Chris' fist to strike his jaw in a split-second._

_The blow sent Kazuki flying._

_._

_.  
_

"…his technology."

.

.

_To his superior, Aldo Kikuchi described Christopher's possessions in excessive detail. A bracer immune to any and all forces of destruction, a marvelous piece of armor that doubled as one of the most sophisticated and powerful computers he had ever laid eyes on. He spoke of his ebon blade, telling her of its incredible sharpness minutes before Lucy herself faced it in battle, wielded by the Digimon of Miracles himself._

_Then there was the firearm. A weapon employing the power of dark energy, yet it ran on technology far beyond those utilized by the DSI's mere prototypes. Boasting semi-automatic fire, impeccable handling and durability, and maximized destructive capacity—no overheating, no charge time, and stronger spheres of power—it was the ultimate weapon, secured by biometrics._

_._

_.  
_

"It was a miracle the three of us _survived_ with that man on the battlefield. He did everything in his power to kill us all. He's—

Mitsuo Yamaki did not give her a chance to finish. "But that's **EXACTLY** why we issued those prototypes in the first place! As I've mentioned, the energy spheres fired by those rifles are strong enough to—

"I know they vaporize SCAI of any level! I know dark energy _erases _anything it hits—"

"_Including_ people. All the experiments we've done here in R&D show there's **nothing** immune to dark energy. We tested every form of protection available. Lockheed dispersion coating, Chrome Digizoid—

Lucille interrupted him. "Here's something your tests _never_ expected." She ogled the Vice-Chairman, staring straight into his eye, as though presaging the once-in-a-million anomaly no amount of quantitative statistics could anticipate. "He's **resistant**."

His mouth dropped like a log. "What…?"

"Christopher's resistant to your _prototypes_," clarified the Modifier, going to great lengths to derisively emphasize the last word. "It's not a one-hit kill for him! Dark energy explodes on impact and despite _that_ he's still standing when the smoke clears."

"B-but—but that's," he stammered. "That's **IMPOSSIBLE**! I—I was never to—

Lucy sighed. "I know it's extremely difficult to believe, Yamaki, but I'm only stating the facts. I watched that demon welcome _Albert's_ _X-Laser_ with open arms like a fool. Attack blew up as soon as it hit and he's left with shallow wounds.

"And that's not the worst of it." Lucille Diaz had plenty to say about the blond, but she had no idea where to start. Should she begin on his unnatural character? Or was it better to focus on his technology?

Christopher was virtually a mystery. An obvious, third party—a disconnected figure in the war between men and monsters, somehow dragged into the conflict by happenstance. Who was he? Where was he even _from_?

Lucille Diaz had been there when he fought Colonel Reeves. Though she was quite distracted by her one-on-one with the Chosen, its survivability boosted tremendously by the black sword, the Modifier was still aware of the other battle's proceedings. Her alert eyes had skimmed this stranger several times and for all the good it did for her, her observations shed no light on his origins.

By abilities and endurance levels alone, the blond had a place in the DSI's database of SCAI's. "I'd classify that bastard as an Ultimate," resurfaced Aldo's speculations, articulated the night of their return—after the three survivors swapped stories. "Definitely not a Mega class, y'know. That rank grossly overestimates my experience with him."

"Abilities and endurance levels alone" weren't appropriate for this stranger. He defied the DSI's taxonomy with a strangeness verified by his proven resistance to dark energy, his comprehensive understanding of its properties, and the bizarre equipment on his person.

They were not dealing with a unique, never-before-seen SCAI. They were dealing with an entity that escaped conventional taxonomy. An _alien_.

At that train of thought, Lucy realized where she'd best begin. "Christopher's motives are directly placed _against_ us. He's definitely our enemy no matter how we look at it, and I can give you two reasons for this." The soldier paused, permitting Yamaki to request for clarification, or maybe dispute her statements.

The DSI's second-in-command did nothing. He was quiet, leaning on the wall with his gaze trained on her. Yamaki stared at Lucille Diaz with the seriousness of a businessman and commander. The solemn aura pervading this dialogue fit his profile completely. Right now he was the Divine Assault—the Vice-Chairman of the DSI: feared and respected by all.

"Go on," his posture spoke.

Without breaking the eye contact, Lucy strolled to the stairway and took a seat on the banister. "We—the three survivors—suspect he's developing an attachment for Daisuke's partner." Before proceeding she glanced at the Child of Miracles, holding his haggard form in her hazel pools. Diaz studied his impassive expression, awed at its resemblance to a silent and contemplative focus.

The living cadaver promoted an illusion of awareness. Outsiders who've yet to notice the equipment sprouting from his flesh would surely be fooled into thinking he was part of the conversation as the two of them were.

In hindsight, Lucy held, it was actually a creepy thought.

"Kikuchi exchanged words with him during their encounter in the command center. Christopher maintained detachment—no concern for the SCAI dying all over the compound. He used his 'allies' as shields and diversions, firing at them when it reduced our numbers without the least bit of hesitation.

"None of that applies when Daisuke's lizard is involved. Kikuchi said he fought tooth and nail to keep the Veemon alive. Fujieda recounted their _impressive _teamwork—I actually got to see it for myself. Chris held his own against **six** Modifiers at once with only the Chosen beside him. That goddamn monster had many opportunities to use that effing SCAI the way he did with the rest, but in the end he _chose_ to work with it!

"And together they brought Albert down." Lucy released a disgusted snort. "Tell me that isn't some kind of a working relationship! If it develops into an _intimate_ _friendship_, that demon's **guaranteed **to fight with the Twelve." She tilted her head towards the only other person in the chamber. "And if he somehow reunites that lizard with Daisuke…"

The Modifier exhaled sharply. "Won't take much figuring out how terrible that'll be for us."

"That's not happening." The executive flapped his tongue before Lucy could continue. "I've played enough politics in my line of work, and unless Veemon—or the Twelve—can give Christopher something he wants, his cooperation is impossible." He huffed. It resembled a scathing chuckle. "Real life works differently from theory, Lucille. All relationships are give-and-take. Close friendship alone won't be enough."

Her adversary reclined on the wall, that blond head of his steered towards the man in the tube. Yamaki's actions were sending subliminal messages—ideas that failed to elude her titian gaze. The apparent skepticism and doubt of the Divine Assault drew attention to the unconscious Daisuke, highlighting the unwavering fact Veemon's relationship with Christopher would never amount to the bond the lizard had with its own tamer.

It was a barrier—a direct assault—to the Modifier's warnings. A response that halted her worrying assertions, one that granted Yamaki unquestionable victory.

Lucille Diaz would certainly subdue her tongue to save face if she hadn't come prepared. "Tsk, tsk," she reproached. "I wasn't finished, Yamaki_. _That's where the second reason comes in." The yellow-haired woman sauntered from her place, her eyes reserved solely for the man before her.

The Vice-Chairman was fidgeting in his suit, his cerulean eyes glimmering with patience. He was waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to reveal her second reason. The one that cemented the outsider's allegiance against them.

As much as she wanted to point out how Christopher insisted their dark matter weapons ran on his technology from the get-go, the truth was, Lucille Diaz couldn't spit it out. Going on the topic of this technology returned the Modifier to the Midnight Assault—brought her back to thoughts that screamed at her, screeching all those deaths could've been prevented, assigning suspicion to R&D.

Lucy did not take the straightforward path. "The morning of the Midnight Assault, you told me R&D had been developing the dark matter rifles since morning. It really strikes me odd how your science geeks produced ten working guns in less than ten hours after a '_groundbreaking development_'."

Her eyes shone ominously. They broke free from the soft and pensive glaze arresting them, almost as though it was holding them back. She closed in on Yamaki, her words turning reproachful one step at a time. "Did you forget I've been around R&D more than _any_ of my colleagues because of you?"

The flames of anger dug their way back into her, burning the tempo—the characters in each verbalized syllable. She pulled back her left sleeve, showing the Vice-Chair the thin digivice strapped to the wrist. "I remember the last time you made a prototype, Yamaki. If I recall correctly—no, **I'm certain of it**—it took **ONE WEEK** _after_ a 'groundbreaking development' to ROLL OUT THE FIRST MODEL!"

If the man was nervous of her direction, wondering where she was going with this, pondering why Lucille digressed from her main point, he did not show it. "Compared to Digital Modification, R&D has been researching dark matter for over a year." His words were calm. Composed.

Yamaki's poise did not stop her from snapping a finger towards Daisuke. "**THAT** is the only project I've **EVER** seen you working on. Digital Modification was—_is_—your life. I still remember the nights you spent toiling over that man's body without sleep!"

He glared. Anyone subjected to such a powerful and frightening glower would cower before it. It was no different from the intimidating death stares sent out by that menacing Christopher. Similar in intensity and indifference. But whereas the outsider's gaze instigated a mortal fear in its victims, the executive's glare brought out trepidations closer to home.

With many of Yamaki's subordinates being scientists, soldiers, or businessmen, clearly they would be frightened for their professional lives. For their reputation. Angering or, perhaps, disappointing the second most powerful man on Earth did wonders for someone's future.

Anyone else in her place would have their legs quivering like jelly, for the Divine Assault's reputation as a stoic and shrewd commander devoid of sympathy was famous throughout the Digital Suppression Initiative—throughout the world. He was almost comparable to Steve Jobs: focused ruthlessly on performance and organizational goals, blatantly condemning his own sociability among peers.

Lucy was unafraid, for she was _special_. While merely a veteran soldier, rungs beneath even the highest position in the military division, the Modifier possessed an advantage no other soldier had. One that granted her enough leverage to go head-to-head with the fearsome Mitsuo Yamaki without flinching.

"You don't know what it's like to juggle—

"SHUT UP!"

Which explained why Lucy was so vocal about her opinions. Her knowledge of the Vice-Chairman was intimate and more comprehensive than any of his peers. Akihiro Kurata did not know him as well as she did. The soldier could easily tell the executive was feeding her one lie after another. She recalled with perfect clarity how he deflected her sensible questions—manipulated Colonel sReeves—before sending fifteen Modifiers into an operation of tragedy and death. "Christopher thinks our rifles are running on **HIS TECHNOLOGY**! That _f*cker_ had a gun that outclasses your _prototypes_ by wide margins!"

The man's eyes were dilating with shock. He had clearly never expected this. "N-no…"

"No digital modifications, no overheating, semi-automatic, excellent handling, and **SIGNIFICANTLY MORE POTENT**!"

Mitsuo Yamaki could not accept the truth. He denied the truth: his precious subordinates were relying on someone else's technology, on someone else's designs. He was beginning to see the second reason without Lucille spelling it out for him.

Weapons employing the unstoppable might of dark energy were _Christopher's realm_. By issuing "prototypes" in the Midnight Assault, the Digital Suppression Initiative has undoubtedly earned the demon's attention. If there was something that man wanted, it would most likely be in the DSI's possession.

This hypothesis established Chris' antagonism against them. It was indisputable. Whether he joined the Twelve through Veemon or acted on his own, his interests were aligned against the DSI.

Yamaki shook his head profusely. He refused to accept it. "My scientists—we developed everything—worked on dark matter for two years—

Lucy yelled. "STOP LYING!" Her voice was so loud it echoed throughout the chamber, audible even from the mezzanine above. Daisuke's body shuddered from its intensity. "Accept the truth, Yamaki! If we don't do something about Christopher, _we're_ _going to be screwed_."

The Vice-Chairman adjusted the tie in his suit and exhaled sharply, expelling his anxiety if he could. "No, we **won't**," he stated. How Yamaki could still speak with the coherence of a well-oiled politician was beyond her. Lucille had long undermined his confidence, and the man was clearly sweating profusely from fright. "I've—I've got it all taken care of. We already have the people in place and it's all a matter of—

She balked. Was he seriously downplaying the threat Christopher posed to the entire organization? Was he blind to the ramifications of having someone as strong as that demon running against them? That man was invincible to **everything** except dark energy. Bullets, modified projectiles, hell, even SCAI-derived attacks.

The Chosen Children would no doubt lever themselves on his power and act as he did. There was really no need for any alliances when Chris was already a guaranteed enemy to begin with. And as the archaic proverb maintained, _an enemy of an enemy was a friend._

They needed to find a way to deal with him as fast as possible, and to begin, all this denial had to stop. Lucille needed the truth out of Yamaki.

Luckily, she knew how to push his buttons.

"If there's one thing I despise more than SCAI's, it's a _f*cking liar_." She palpitated as she brought her body in front of his. Their eyes were almost drilling into each other. "And you're the biggest of them all. Keep in mind I know **all** your secrets."

Lucille Diaz glimpsed the white gold on his neck.

"Why you're micromanaging some of our operations."

A choker with an exceptionally-crafted jewel attached to the chain. Its verdant green sparkled radiantly despite the low light. She frowned at its sight.

"Why you're obsessed with Digital Modification."

She breached the unspoken barrier between them and gripped his shoulders, clutching them as though Lucy held her most hated enemy in her grasp for interrogation. "Why people call you the 'Divine Assault'."

The soldier slammed his back on the wall, causing a raucous thud to resonate in their ears. "Why you're always in this room." A sound neither of them noticed.

"WHY YOU'RE EVEN **HERE**!"

Mitsuo Yamaki stowed one hand in his blazer, shoving Lucy away with the other. His arms employed a strength his sleeves efficiently concealed. "Diaz, stand down." He had dug himself out from his rut as soon as she mentioned his darkest secrets.

"Never." The digivice on her left wrist snapped to the palm. Her right hand gripped the M9 tucked into the pants of her indigo uniform and held the DSI's second-in-command at gunpoint. The handgun glowed weakly, its chassis encircled by azure lines of energy. "Not until you give me answers."

The Divine Assault raised his free arm, keeping the other hidden, probably clutching something within. Lucille Diaz knew what it was. So long as nothing out of the ordinary happened, she didn't need to worry. She had everything under control.

Such wishful thinking did not stop Fladramon's gauntlet from appearing on his raised arm, its three, protruding claws crackling with Lighdramon's electricity. "Lucy," Yamaki spoke darkly. "You _wouldn't_ dare."

"You know damn well I would, _Mitsy_." Without warning she pointed her gun at Daisuke. "If you don't want your prized specimen shot, tell me** everything**. How you _perfected_ dark matter weapons. Why you _really_ permitted the Midnight Assault."

Lucy cocked the firearm, hoping the jarring sound elicited a quick response. "While you're at it, you may as well tell me why Taichi's still alive in that prison cell and just how you intend on dealing with Christopher…"

Indeed, her threats on Motomiya's life educed a response.

"I wouldn't worry about him if I were you."

Her eyes dilated when she realized it wasn't Yamaki who spoke…

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[3] Comments and criticisms, again, are welcome.

Also, if you got anything to say about my characterizations, don't hesitate to do so. I worry about them a bit.

[4] Random trivia no one cares about. Veemon's experience with the raincoat happened to me in real life.

[5] There are actually people who enjoy going into storm drains and sewers. _Yes_, such persons find the prospect of walking in a mosquito-filled cesspit fun. I actually spent one night watching videos of parties of three to five heading into these murky passageways (some of the places they end up going in are _beautiful_)and found a "guide to urban spelunking" in Australia that outlined some key concepts employed in this chapter, including the dangers involved.

People who find the prospect of exploring storm drains should look up "A Predator's Approach" on Google before they end up doing something incredibly stupid and get themselves killed.

[6] Responses to reviews:

**kingveemon**: Thanks for the review. Really, comments are one of the things that keep me going (aside from my drive to see this project completed! Broken_Angel has set the bar really high...), though I'm a little disappointed considering I'm beginning to unload some of the heavy sh*t on the readers now. Let's see if that changes next chapter...

**RazenX**: *whistles* LONG REVIEW! I sent you an equally lengthy response, which I shall, ehrm, truncate here for the curious readers.

_CH9&10 rewrites_. The extra details were necessary to justify what happened in CH18. The culture shock, naturally, acts as a nasty surprise for the unwary reader expecting the story to turn into a Gary Stu garbage. Speaking of CH18, I will eventually rewrite it because of the way it portrays Veemon. When will I do this? Who knows.

_Expectations for CH23_. LOL. Sorry, Raz, but the last thing I want to show is Christopher blazing through R&D like a God Moder. He's already got the mindset of one, and I've already showcased his abilities in the first story arc, so there's no need to even show it. HOWEVER, there's a horrifyingly brutal scene coming up in the DSI Infiltration battle (comparable to the "Salamon" scene in the rewritten CH10) and here I am, pondering how you (and other readers) would think of it.

_Lucy and Yamaki_. First, glad to know I've got Yamaki in-character. Second, Lucy **really is** your "typical alpha b*tch with a dark past". Just because someone's a jerk/asshole doesn't mean that person's inhuman. Everybody's got a side to their story, and unfortunately, the spirit of Lucy's choices can easily be made by people in real life. Go figure.

_Writing praises despite author's requests for criticism_. I am like that in my professional work as well despite my talent and skills definitely above the average cut. Conflict breeds evolution and innovation, and naturally, criticism is conflict in itself.

_Christopher's backstory_. It will eventually be revealed in _The Interloper_ in due time. Even though Chris does not have the spotlight (as it should be! OC's should never hog the attention in a story with a cast of OC's and canon characters), his backstory is still **crucial** to this story. It clarifies multiple questions (e.g. his relationship with Veemon), _and_ it resolves plot holes in the Zero Two anime in a manner complementing the pervasive "Predestination vs. Self-determinism" theme that Christopher embodies.

On a final note, multiple seeds have already been planted over the uploaded chapters, even in the ones I've written and never edited. Goes to show how much I've planned in this story. Can't wait to write 'em blooming. If that doesn't get my readers giving feedback, I honestly don't know what will... aside from a typical shipping story with an "Adventure" style plot.

Thanks for your review and see you in the next chapter.


	24. Cruel Intentions (Part I)

**Pre-chapter Author's Notes:**

[1] I apologize again for the chapter length. Part 1 of _Cruel Intentions _is estimated to be 16,930 words long.

[2] As the story is about to enter the part where both the Chosen Children and the DSI are engaged in direct combat, I want to remind readers about my **writing conventions**. I know I did this way, way back in chapter one, but hey, best to avoid confusion, yesh?

Unlike most, if not all, digimon fanfiction, _The Interloper_ uses **both** the Japanese and American dub terminology for the different levels.

Factions employing the Japanese system (_Baby I → Baby II → Child → Adult → Perfect → Ultimate → Super Ultimate_) include the Chosen Children, the Digidestined (Taichi's group), and the Digital Monsters (Ken's group). Factions opting for the US Dub's system (_Fresh → In-Training → Rookie → Champion → Ultimate → Mega_) are the Japanese Government, the Digital Suppression Initiative, and most civilians from the Real World.

Of course, the Modifiers are exceptions to this system. As the eighth chapter has shown, these people have the ability to simultaneously use **any** attack in Veemon's evolution line (as defined by the animé), with or without the effects of "Biomorph" as long as they possess the battery power for it.

[3] Without further ado, here's the first part of _Cruel Intentions_. Read and enjoy.

* * *

Lucille Diaz swiveled her M9 around, training it on Daisuke Motomiya. "If you don't want your prized specimen shot," she spoke, "tell me **everything**. How you _perfected_ dark matter weapons. Why you _really_ permitted the Midnight Assault."

Pulling the trigger was going to be the biggest mistake she could ever make. The live but comatose form of the Child of Miracles was one of the most valuable assets in the DSI's possession. If it wasn't for him, much of the infrastructure that supported modern society would never have flourished in the first place.

Daisuke inspired innovation among their ranks, assisting the Digital Suppression Initiative in producing world-changing devices that would undoubtedly be the boon of humankind. Lucy, for all her hatred of Wild Ones and liberated SCAI, wouldn't dare end it all by shooting the man in the chest.

One reason rested on the fact the Chosen Child was no more defenseless than an infant, submerged indefinitely in a glass tube a few modified bullets could easily pierce.

Another, and stronger, reason sprung forth from the very innovations the living cadaver continued to play a role in. Stopping the pipeline of research for the selfish pursuit of the "truth" was a crime capable of damaging the very hopes embedded in the Modifier's psyche.

By forcing her own organization into another mad quest of subduing another Chosen Child, the world where men fostered a symbiotic coexistence with self-conscious artificial intelligences through regulation and domestication—a world where these otherworldly beasts could be reined in and prevent a repeat of the infamous Fourth of July massacre—a world Lucille dreamed of night after night, after night—would drift farther from realization.

To shoot Daisuke was to shoot the name of honorable service.

To shoot Daisuke was to shoot the vision of the Digital Suppression Initiative.

To shoot Daisuke was to shoot the laurels of humanity itself.

Lucille Diaz knew this.

Mitsuo Yamaki knew this.

The yellow-haired Modifier studied his face carefully. Scrutinized those enigmatic eyes. What was Yamaki thinking now, ogling her with those foreboding, cerulean orbs? Could he truly see through her bluff?

She examined his posture one more time: his stance was passive, yet portentous. Furious, yet tolerant.

The scarlet gauntlet covered the sleeve of the executive's raised arm, looking like it might burst into flame at any second. The arcs of electricity constantly moving from one protruding claw to another added to this frightening omen. Surely, no one would dare crossing the Divine Assault when he stared back with a glare as sharp as a blade.

Lucille was tense. But she was also audacious. She cocked the handgun, letting the loud _click_ rip through their eardrums. Perhaps, at this point, the Vice-Chairman was no longer thinking this was a bluff. Perhaps Yamaki fell into her trap the moment this gesture was performed right before his very eyes.

"While you're at it, you might as well tell me why Taichi's still alive in that prison cell and just how you intend on dealing with Christopher…"

Lucille Diaz didn't find much fun in blackmail. Reminding Yamaki of the secrets contained in her head—secrets that presaged pandemonium and upheaval of a massive, organizational-level scale should they _ever_ be revealed to the public—tugged at her heart. The Modifier respected him too much to resort to such dirty tactics.

But it had to be done. She needed to know the truth. She also needed to push the Vice-Chairman in the right direction. Devaluing Christopher's significance through dismissive reassurances didn't lead to a solution, she figured. By acknowledging the outsider's threat, recognizing his weaknesses, discussing it with experts, and pressuring these same people into the frontier of innovation, Lucy had no doubt R&D would eventually develop a method to effectively pierce Christopher's apparent invincibility without resorting to "prototypes" and other "experimental technology".

Threatening Yamaki's precious specimen would no doubt shove him into this position and ultimately strengthen the organization.

And so Lucy held her breath.

"I wouldn't worry about him if I were you."

The woman sighed in relief when she heard the sentences. Those calm and confident words, soothing her fears and allaying her anxiety, soon to be followed by a quick and creative plan in dealing with the DSI's unexpected but powerful enemy—and perhaps an admission of guilt.

Unfortunately, she realized—from Yamaki's dilating eyes—from his gradually widening mouth—from the _feminine voice_ that verbalized that reassuring rejoinder—the two of them were not alone.

She also realized the speaker had somehow snuck up on them, casting her presence between Lucy and Daisuke's capsule. How this invader managed to do that without either of them noticing baffled her.

Or rather, it would have perplexed her if Lucy wasn't suffering from astonishment. Her sepia pools were spreading wide, growing in size as wariness and paranoia kicked in. The Modifier sensed the change in atmosphere—her instincts insisting she was in utmost danger.

Whoever stood next to her was a being that had the omen of death for a pheromone. Whoever intruded into her private moment with the Vice-Chairman carried an unnatural air.

Following the Divine Assault's stunned gaze, Lucille spun left. Her eyes focused not on the air that still rippled like water, but on the lady at their center. That this woman hovered above the floor escaped Lucy's notice, for her hazel orbs were transfixed on the other's chartreuse spheres, almost intimidated by the beryl, skintight blouse—she was drawn strongly to the stillness of this newcomer's stomach. Was she even breathing?

Half a second passed before the Modifier regained her senses. Kicked into motion by the pinnacle of human reflexes, attained via years of training and actual combat against men and monsters alike, Lucille Diaz trained her glowing M9 at the woman in green and opened fire.

Several bullets, each projectile encircled by lines of energy, imbuing them with enough piercing power to rival tank shells, flew out the barrel and struck the woman right in the face. None of them landed on the white, wide-brimmed hat on her head. None of them even scratched—let alone cracked—the pearly-white sneer plastered on her face.

Instead, they crumpled into sheets of metal as thin as paper. They could not ricochet, for the bullets lost all their kinetic energy on impact.

Whoever appeared between her and the sleeping Motomiya reminded her of Christopher Van Numen.

She stepped back. All the anger and rage seething inside her heart had all but dried up, shriveling—shrinking into a tiny, infinitesimal ball of fear that was now coursing through her soul, making itself felt in her entire body. Lucy kept her gun up, hazel pools contracting and distending while her mind worked on overdrive to process the information that just happened.

The bullets landed on the leering woman point-blank.

Bullets strengthened through Digital Modification.

Bullets intended to penetrate the thickest of armor, such as those found on battle tanks…

…and those worn by Ultimate-class SCAI.

Not a single one pierced the skin. The woman's face was unblemished as it was smooth, undisturbed by the sudden barrage of modified metal.

"W-w-who are you!" the Modifier's attempts to add conviction in her voice, strip away its fear, and replace it with untold fury reserved solely for the Veemon's exogenous friend faltered from intimidation. She was at a loss for words. Tongue-tied. "H, how did you get here—no, why did my shots bounce—are you with Chr—

Lucille Diaz found herself staring at Daisuke's gaunt pectorals. What was once a chest chiseled by a passion for football, a work of art any teenage woman would pine for days and days on end—and perhaps, befriend a small, petite dragon of the brightest blue in the hopes of sneaking into the Child of Miracles' life—was now a ragged and scraggy sight.

The Chosen Child's body was clearly malnourished, many of his muscles having withered away by a combination of inactivity and an unhealthy dosage of chemicals and drugs no human should ever be exposed to.

Anyone with some humanity left inside would weep, if not feel sympathy, at the sorry state of this young man. His SCAI was sure to blubber and wail and whimper at the sight of him, happy to be with its master like a filthy mongrel yet mournful for the adult's pathetic state of existence like it was its younger brother.

None of these thoughts were running in the Modifier's head. She may have been more aware of Daisuke's emaciated condition than she was minutes earlier, but a very human—philanthropic—concern eluded her mind.

It wasn't that Lucy was a woman with a heart of coal and ice.

It wasn't that Lucy was a woman who unconditionally abhorred Daisuke and everything he represented.

It was actually because the newcomer had grabbed her in one-tenth of an instant, clasping her chin and smashing it on the tube without destroying the glass.

And thankfully, without liquefying her head either. The blue lines circling Lucille's head, of course, played a significant role in ensuring her survival.

But not for long.

"Your mouth annoys me," voiced the woman in green. Her words were articulated such that Lucille knew she was at her mercy, she could be killed at any given time, and her murderer viewed her no more than Lucy herself would view a mosquito: insignificant and powerless. "Get this through your head, maggot."

Lucille's face was pressed firmly against the capsule. When her assailant twisted her skull into it, forcing her to, more and more, absorb Daisuke's naked body in its anorexic splendor, her skin ground across the smooth surface so slowly pain flared. Blood slid down the sides of the glass, even as the digital modification applied to her face was busy healing the wounds as soon as the skin burst open.

Natural regeneration however, no matter how fast, no matter how potent, could prevent death by asphyxiation. The woman made sure her airway was completely blocked, both nose and mouth squashed on the glass.

"That _weakling_ isn't the threat here."

Lucy squirmed in her grasp, desperately trying to escape. _God_, it was monstrous! Like Christopher, this woman holding her down seemed harmless, but was no doubt as beastly and as mighty. Her grip was tantamount to layers of cement stacked upon her, crushing Lucy, threatening to dissolve her skull into organic paste.

The same, feminine voice hammered the soldier's eardrums. It was filled with power. Its tone and pitch resonated through the air, electrifying the digital particles as though the being that had intruded their conversation was blessed with divine origins. **"I AM.**"

Moments before Lucille Diaz approached the brink of unconsciousness and blurred vision, the woman in green pulled back and hurled her towards the Divine Assault. She crashed into the wall. "AGH!" Several bones broke in three revolting _cracks_, yet the wall was unsullied and undamaged—a testament to the strength of the modifications blanketing this space. Zone Emulators and Digital Modification, indeed, complemented each other.

The Modifier gripped her digivice for dear life, envisioning her bones healing at a rapid rate, letting solid conviction and immobile aspirations power it. The machine responded, invoking azure tendrils lacing around her back, rapidly setting the bones back in place and undoing the cracks. Lucille Diaz could barely stand, yet stand she did, even as unimaginable agony threatened to floor her once more.

But she had to stand. She had to rise. Lucy needed—Lucy _wanted_—to know **what the f*ck** just happened here and who—

Mitsuo Yamaki's deep, baritone accent shattered the endless questions beleaguering her. "Lucy, meet Felicia Portal: the '_groundbreaking contribution_' Kikuchi and Reeves brought in last week."

.

.

.

_The Vice-Chairman's image flickered on the screen, the sunglasses giving the man an ominous aura, even when he was far away from the three Modifiers in the room. In another world, no less. "Prototype weapons?" Lucy reiterated, baffled at the mere concept. "Since __**when**__ has R&D been developing new weapons?"_

_Yamaki snapped his Zippo open. _Click_. "This morning," was his nonchalant response. He spoke as though the timing meant nothing. Was he expecting Lucille to take this at face value? To ignore the figurative alarm bells blaring inside her?_

_Apparently so. Otherwise, the Vice-Chairman wouldn't have done something so simple as to cock his head at the scout and the red-haired soldier standing next to a laptop sitting alone on the bare table. "The DSI extends much of its gratitude to the Colonel and Sgt. Kikuchi here._

"_For their groundbreaking contribution to something R&D's been investigating for the past two years." And _clack_ went the lighter, concluding his retort and subtly instructing Lucille Diaz to shut up and move on._

_A command the yellow-haired Modifier could never really obey._

.

.

.

Felicia's chartreuse pools ogled the Modifier. Her sneer was unnerving. "Oh?" she pondered, a sly gaze focusing on the Vice-Chairman for but a moment. "You're not telling her the Midnight Assault was **my** idea?"

Yamaki opted for silence. The man was a master at self-restraint, remaining as calm as a river. Devoid of the tumultuous rage pouring in Diaz's ever-narrowing glare, setting her fury ablaze and fueling the flames to the point she lost all common sense and forgot she was no different from an insolent tramp to the woman in green.

A still river, however, did not necessitate smooth and motionless currents underneath the surface.

Lucille snarled at Felicia. "I-it was—your—t-that nightmare—

Blinded by her vengeful temperament against the blond demon that played an instrumental role in slaughtering her comrades and friends like animals last weekend, "That disaster was **YOUR IDEA**?"

"Certainly," she retorted, her tone so condescending Lucy had no problems seeing the bombastic woman for what she truly was. A manipulator. A puppeteer of unparalleled skill. "Even the æther technology you used was my gift to begin with. I believe you _humans_ call it dark matter…"

Æther.

The last time she encountered that word, it was in a report by Sgt. Kikuchi. A verbal report that tied the fearsome Christopher to the Digital Suppression Initiative and formalized him as an enemy to be reckoned.

Æther was the term that man used for _dark matter_. The fuel those prototypes operated on, relying on technology Chris called his own…

The realization pounded Lucille's chest like a massive hammer. Her head swirled with clarity one could only possess after ruminating on all the facts.

Those abominable æther weapons were all to blame for this. The DSI had gained unimaginable power because of them, acquiring the ability to explore forces millennia beyond their control. Because of them, Yamaki's treachery claimed Colonel Reeves—fueled his arrogance and conceit to the point the red-haired turned blind, ensnared in his own hubris.

Because of æther—this **alien** technology—Christopher had a reason to be their enemy. An excuse to position himself against the DSI. For all she knew, that monster might finally be in the Digidestined's base, his presence auguring tiny flakes of hope so long as those rats managed to exploit every action he took, with or without an agreement of some sort. That Veemon was probably clinging to him by now, so desperate to see the Child of Miracles again it leveraged its friendship with this blond demon.

If only Lucy knew how wrong she was. If only she was aware Chris dissolved his ties to the blue dragon hours ago. She would be crumbling in panic had she been conscious of the fact the demon she feared would sow chaos and shatter the Digital Suppression Initiative's anticipated victory was now descending the elevators, heading straight for their location while leaving death and ruin in his wake.

All this crap—all this trouble—all this hopelessness, loss of lives, and tragedy—all of it came from the woman standing, no, _floating_ before her! It was now clear to Lucy this Felicia was an outsider as much as that blond monster. A person who looked no different from ordinary, mortal men yet possessed abilities as dangerous as high-level SCAI.

Brought to Mitsuo Yamaki by Aldo and Reeves, for sure she must have realized a war was going on. A war between two factions, one side deluded by lies and fantasies that were never feasible—realistic in the first place. Still, this damnable Felicia _intervened_. Was this an attempt at being God? Was this a game to her? Or was she trying to be a modern-day Prometheus?

The consequences were so far-reaching they were beyond mortal comprehension. Didn't she foresee the ramifications? Wasn't this revolting _bitch_ conscious of the Pandora's Box she opened, giving the DSI technology beyond humankind's wildest imaginations?

"Y-you," the Modifer growled. "B-because of you—if it wasn't **because of you**, that _f*cking_ Christopher wouldn't—

"Of course he wouldn't be involved!" Felicia feigned offense. Chuckles erupted from her, soon breaking into outright laughter. Lucy _hated_ her tittering. Detested the condescension coloring every snicker. They painted a photograph of arrogance. A great arrogance that came with her unfathomable power. "Why do you think I _gave_ you æther in the first place?"

Free from any allegiance, her words donned the air of an aristocrat acclimated to the role of a spectator. She verbalized from the perspective of a refined observer—a detached and impersonal analyst—the kind of person who frequently engaged in speculation, hurling subjects such as the end of the world, hundreds suffering from drought, and political massacres over a glass of champagne and fancy dinner.

Lucille Diaz snarled as soon as she processed the question bouncing off her mouth. "You…"

Felicia's sneer swelled. "Oh, _yes_," it screamed at her, moaning with lust and ecstasy attained only by the sickest of sadists.

"…you _knew_…"

She could hardly believe it, even as Lucy analyzed the evidence in new light, even as she arrived at a conclusion, even as she felt her ire emerge anew. "…Christopher at the Satellite Base—buddies with Daisuke's lizard—**YOU KNEW EVERYTHING!**"

Felicia had sold Yamaki the Midnight Assault the way a stockbroker smooth-talked a client into shoddy investments. Illusions of conquest and riches to reel them in like gullible fools. Agreement shone in the woman's chartreuse orbs. "So?"

Felicia did not renounce the accusation. She accepted—**relished** it. The world was her orchestra, and it was free for her to manipulate it as she saw fit. Lucille judged she was so vicious the anguish and terror of the Midnight Assault evoked orgasms incomparable, channeling a revolting kind of amusement. Its very concept brought to the soldier the urge to vomit, appalled.

* * *

Heaps of scrap metal lined the floor, nuts and bolts and strips of steel and alloys of unknown make occupied the vast length of the space. A pair of goldenrod eyes surveyed the landscape of chaos and destruction.

Soot, dust, and tiny shards of steel smothered Christopher's coat, overwhelming its beautiful effervescent blue with repugnant splotches of blackened grime. Now that the action was done, now that there was nothing left to destroy, Chris took off his coat and shook it forcefully, waving and twisting the garment in the air as if he wanted to tear the damn thing apart.

If he truly wanted to rip it to shreds, he wouldn't be caught doing something so stupid.

As moronic as the movements seemed, they certainly did their job in expelling much of the unwanted dirt dulling its magnificent cerulean shine. Chris slammed his arms into the sleeves after giving the coat one more last-minute look. He sauntered to the three corridors staring at him from the far side of the security hub, kicking away any debris directly obstructing his feet.

The automated security put up a fight. But it was not one the DSI could win, even had Chris been in the pitiful, wounded and enfeebled state he was in last week. Invading the underground research facility at full strength ensured clean and smooth sailing from here on out.

A dark chuckle followed that thought. Smooth, perhaps, but definitely _not_ clean. He was certain people populated the laboratories itself. For sure, guards were patrolling the structure. Armed with what, he could care less. Nothing in this universe could hurt him. "I am _invincible_," he told himself. The Third Fragment would be sitting in some sort of pedestal, Chris was cocksure, and all he had to do was walk in and take it.

No stealth.

No armor.

No weapons.

Christopher strutted into the corridors, buoyed by an ever-inflating confidence. He might as well strip off all his clothes and armor; it wouldn't have made a difference. Here, he was a god. Anyone who _dared_ to shoot him down was going to die. There was no avoiding it. It's not like he'd have to care about the mess in the first place; he's got nothing to do with this universe anymore.

His objectives were simple. Take the Fragment and leave. Leave the instant it falls within his reach. Tear open a portal into the Space Between Worlds and resume his journey.

It pained Chris' heart to think he could so easily abandon this world and its problems, even when some of them were his to begin with—none of them resolved. But this was for the best, he reasoned, rationalizing his cowardice the way he rationalized his decision to dissolve his friendship with Veemon. _Gotta get out of here before that she-devil ruins it all._

Unfortunately for him, the "she-devil" in question was already at work.

He didn't know the terrifying reality he was in. He couldn't have known the Real and Digital Worlds—_this _particular universe—was at a situation so precipitous Christopher **shouldn't be doing** **anything** at this point.

The DSI Infiltration was a critical moment in the unraveling fabric of time. Everything that happened tonight determined everything, and it was from this very incident that either salvation or desolation bloomed. Whether the interplay between outsiders—whether the war between the Chosen and the DSI led to a fairy tale epilogue, to a _happy future_, depended solely on the choices willingly and knowingly made by the key players of this story.

No matter how many times Christopher denied it, no matter how much effort he put up fighting its very existence, they were **all** following the footsteps of destiny. Treading a path through the unexplored territory of God. Clocks slowly ticked to the moment of chaos' eruption. To an incident that would forever circulate throughout the globe, shake the very foundations of the DSI headquarters, and shatter the hearts of all that followed the precarious relationship between the dominant humanity and humiliated digimon.

They were now ensnared, caught within Kismet's clandestine tribulations. Trapped by its inescapable coils. All of them.

Veemon, picking up the pieces of hope shattered by none other than Christopher himself as he continued to live on for the Child of Miracles, holding on to that thin line of silver in the clouds that was that tiny, miniscule opportunity of seeing his partner again. Of being together with Daisuke once more.

Hikari, crawling into the DSI with the intent of saving her only brother. She was clinging tightly to the only important person remaining in her life, taking on the daunting mission of liberating him, saving him from his situation, even when it risked her permanent change. Even when the scars of the Infiltration might be too much for the limitless volumes of time. The junior Yagami was no different from Veemon in this respect.

Tailmon, aware her presence was no longer the strong medicinal relief, the supportive shoulder for Hikari to lean on. Now willing to make the choices her human half would hesitate to make, the decisions that **have** to be made as soon as possible for the sake of the bigger picture. Disagreements were certain to crop up, but it was all for the best.

Taichi was conscious of the strings being pulled in this nightmare, aware they were in something so deep, hazardous, and not to mention far beyond anything he could have conceived. Granted the opportunity to do something, seeking escape despite the role it contributed to the manipulators of some unknown conspiracy.

Christopher, who sought the third Realmstone Fragment with a yen so overpowering he would willingly discard what's left of his humanity and become a mindless and feral beast that did nothing but kill and dominate for what was _clearly_ self-centered wishes. He was at the center of this conundrum, unwary of the fact the two worlds were now at an event horizon. At the point of no return.

From here on out, decisions ramified into far-reaching consequences, many of them beyond even Christopher's anticipation. Everyone involved must face the outcome without diffidence, for all acted willingly and knowingly according to what they believed was right.

There was no room for regretting choices already made. It didn't matter whether they were wholly responsible for the harrowing scenario of _outsiders_ directing the two worlds' future. It didn't matter whether the Infiltration contained the invisible point that separated eternal happiness from dystopian despair.

Acceptance was but God's lone requirement.

As it were, Christopher was the only one with the capability of evading the consequences. It seemed almost unfair how he could quit _anytime_ and leave everything behind, taking nothing with him save for memories and the sparkling fragment of a verdant green jewel.

The steel doors opened him, revealing a small box that beckoned Chris to enter. The man walked in without hesitation, his goldenrod eyes washed over by an azure light. As he did with the Digidestined's tunnel network under Mt. Fuji, at the blond's mental command, the Realm Scanner initiated _Æther Mapping_ to construct a three-dimensional map of the R&D Wing.

A map of dependable accuracy and precision, with every living organism and nook and cranny tagged and monitored by the supercomputers embedded within the silver bracer.

Waiting for the results to finish, visual filters were placed within his field of vision. _Seeker_, he thought, activating a function that permitted the detection and tracking of any inanimate object he wished. Christopher held his Medallion in hand, willing the device to scan the massive area below for the third Realmstone Fragment.

One push of a button shut the doors. A second passed before the cramped, metal box began its slow and quiet descent into the DSI's Research and Development Wing. The lull in activity caused Chris' mind to roam and wander around, stopping at points of interest the man himself would prefer to bury forever. Forgotten out of cowardice, out of guilt, or out of fear, it didn't matter to Chris so long as they eventually vanished from his memories.

Yet… no matter how many times Chris tried to bury—tried to forget, they always came back to haunt him. Hound him the way he kept seeing Sally's face in his sleep. Ivan's dismembered head. Imaginary portraits of Joshua, Milenna, and Peppita. All, vanishing in flashes of green light the blond associated with æther. All, coalescing with the spectrum of energy that comprised the Space Between Worlds.

Until now Chris still saw the corpses of his family, lying dead in a massive puddle of blood. Until now he still heard the wails of the dying, the agonizing shrieks and curses of those he damned in battle. Until now Chris still felt the robed, political figurehead urging him not to take the Medallion—the only thing that fueled an entire community's—no, an entire _planet's_ survival.

Until now he felt Veemon's hands clinging to his own, heard his pitched voice begging—**pleading **pathetically, not just for help but for friendship itself.

Even as he saw Felicia's sneering visage appear and reappear in his mind between every heartrending vision, none of her leers—none of her scathing ridicule impeded regret from gripping the blond.

His guilt resurfaced, Christopher wondered about the "secret path" that Hikari Yagami mentioned hours ago. Drawing from his recent experience, he wondered if it was secured with automated defenses, if it was free from unseen traps, if it led to a safe entrance.

Would they end up in a storage room? Would they find themselves in a barracks?

Forced to face his own compunction, forced to face the most recent choices he made, the damning options he picked for the sake of his ambitions and that dying notion of "the balance", he pondered how the three of them would fare against the full might of the Digital Suppression Initiative, hitting them from within.

Veemon's possession of the DITE was merely consolation.

The ebon sword had served him well for the greater part of a year. It was a trophy—a _memento_ of the friends Chris left behind in another universe, fending for themselves in a post-apocalyptic world. Constructed from the weightless yet extremely durable armor of a hadraal, and empowered by science and technology whose understanding eluded Chris.

But it was also a **weak** consolation. Despite the obvious strengths of this weapon—resilience against the overwhelming power of æther, unparalleled sharpness, and the violent gusts generated by every slash—its assuasive effect was slight. Negligible, perhaps.

For up against more enemies than the Midnight Assault, the capabilities of the DITE might not even be enough to assure a mission accomplished, let alone _survival_. Veemon's increased chances for it were sufficient for Christopher's nagging conscience, however inadequate it really was according to the moral standards Sally Xyphard swore by.

Then it dawned on him the hidden passage was accessed from the sewers.

The rain had been heavy tonight, overwhelming the skies of Tokyo, weeping uncontrollably in the face of Christopher's unforgivable sins. He shuddered from worry. Was Veemon safe from harm? Could he somehow elude the currents that _surely_ snaked through those underground pipes, propelled by enough force to match speeding trains?

Had the Digimon of Miracles held the ability to evolve—had _Daisuke Motomiya_ been around from the very beginning, would their journey be any easier? Would that explosion of emotions in Mt. Fuji even happen in the first place? Would they have been that close to begin with?

A shame the answers resided in the plane of speculation…

* * *

Tailmon wanted the answers to two of those questions as soon as possible.

"VEEMON!"

Free from speculation.

"SHIT, VEEEEEEMON!"

Grounded in reality.

Despite the roar of the raging blackwater thundering her ears and almost drowning out even the screams of her human partner, Tailmon swore she heard the horrific splash of Veemon's draconic body falling into the water. Her feline eyes, almost stripped of its usefulness, were playing tricks on her, insisting she had just witnessed the dragon's silhouette drop into a most humiliating and gruesome death.

The Digimon of Light was quick to descend the pipe, returning to the soggy notches and indentations of the storm drain. With haste she made her way to where she knew—or where she _thought_ she knew—Veemon had been right before that goddamn refrigerator slammed into the wall, upset his and Hikari's balance, and **somehow** led to something snagging the Chosen's leg.

Concurrently she exercised caution. There was no need adding a second casualty to the list, and the thought of Hikari Yagami—her human half—her beloved partner, for whom she would die, no, _live_ for with full, 100% devotion not even her future husband (whoever that'd be) could ever hope to match—plummeting into the frigid mix of chemicals, rubbish, and human waste because of **her** was in the foremost of her head the moment her fur bristled against the Chosen Child's legs.

"Hikari," she commanded, maintaining the leadership she usurped from the young lady. "Climb into the pipe and keep on going **until** you've got enough space to stand up! It's safer—a **lot** safer there!"

But the rushing air and water was a potent combination; her words failed to reach the junior Yagami's ears. "TAILMON!" She yelled into the blackness of the tunnel. "WHAT'S GOING ON?"

"VEEMON FELL!"

Tailmon twitched at Hikari's sharp intake of breath. Fear was beginning to radiate from the center of her chest, but whether it was fear from meeting the same end as Daisuke's partner or fear for his life, she would never know. The white cat was too busy stressing over her best friend to even think about it. "KEEP GOING!" Panic—fright underlined her ejaculations. "GET IN THE PIPE AND CRAWL FORWARD!"

"But—

Tailmon snarled. "**JUST GO, HIKARI!**" She _actually_ snarled at her own partner. **Hissed** at her, suffering from the feeling of responsibility and shame at letting Veemon fall so easily, fearing the possibility of Hikari Yagami succumbing to the very waters that claimed his body.

_Damn it all_, the digimon cursed. It was only **yesterday** he turned up at the Digidestined's doorstep, alive and well. How could the Harmonious Ones take Veemon away from her now, when he just returned to her life mere _hours_ ago? They snatched her beloved Patamon already, seized him, and brought him to wherever the spirits of digimon went after deletion in a bright flash of fire and the crimson blaze of explosions.

Now they were taking away Veemon, too? Her best friend? **Their** best friend? This was unfair! Unfair beyond any reasoning. This wasn't the work of the Harmonious Ones, but the work of some other, invisible hand with intent far more malicious—far more _sadistic_ than the robed Demon himself. Patamon would've been miserable at the thought of the dragon's demise. He would've been outright _dejected_ if he knew, somehow, Tailmon was the root cause of this tragedy.

How could she face Patamon—how could she face **Daisuke**? Tailmon brought them here to this cramped, tunnel of hydrologic doom. She forced Veemon through this forsaken pipe and now his life was on her paws. Even if it invalidated a part of that prophetic dream—that nightmare terrifying her human half for the past few days—she wouldn't want it resolved **that** way! It was not fair. Not to Tailmon. Not to Daisuke. Not to Patamon's memory.

And certainly not to Veemon himself. He had been manipulated and toyed with like a naïve fool, his nostalgia and sentimentality for Daisuke and those happy days exploited by _that man_, who penetrated his wariness by being the first human in three years to treat him with kindness and "extend" the hand of friendship.

He didn't deserve such a terrible fate. He didn't deserve something so **tragic**_._

So Tailmon kept going.

So Tailmon kept shouting, shrieking Veemon's name.

He had to be alive. He had to be! He couldn't just die, not like this. _Not so soon!_

The Digimon of Light ignored the cold and apathetic voice of logic. It coursed through her, insisting the dragon was now dead. The indifferent undertones asserted he was perhaps clinging to his last breath, on the brink of sucking in the disgusting, fetid water permeating every one of his senses. Conscious of his body's increasing demands for fresh air, conscious of his inevitable fate.

She knew one little slip was enough to kill anyone who fell into the filthy drink. She knew.

Veemon couldn't have survived. For a Child-level like him, the torrent of blackwater was so strong he wouldn't even have been given the luxury of holding on for dear life, of those white stubs he called claws clutching to the notches in desperation, slowly giving in to the irresistible force of the water. Tailmon already had trouble recovering after her foot slid into the water; if Veemon had truly fallen in, his _entire body_ submerged beneath the roaring crests, there was no telling how much effort, how much strength, it would've taken for the blue dragon to repeat this miracle.

Nonetheless, she trudged on. She searched for Veemon. She _refused_ to accept the nagging truth.

Veemon was the Digimon of Miracles. His name stood for **victory itself**. His species was known for attracting the charity of Luck itself. "Come on," the white cat murmured, her cerulean eyes struggling to make sense of the currents' impenetrable surface. They sought for a break in the waves, assisting the other, more potent senses hard at work in locating her comrade and dear friend.

It was only after traveling a few meters back, perhaps halfway across the makeshift path of footholds, did Tailmon feel something like leather beneath her feet. It seemed to squirm as soon as she stepped on it, but the moment Tailmon felt movement, the digimon poured on the weight, slamming her foot down while punching a hole in the drain, hooking her arm in as she did right before her near-death experience.

"T-t, T-Tailmon," the cat heard his voice, chattering wildly from the cold. "H… help…"

He didn't even need to say it.

The second her ears registered the dragon's voice, the instant her foot was conscious of the individual digits of the azure hand scrunched beneath it with the tremendous pressure only an Adult digimon could supply, Tailmon's entire body lurched towards the water, her free hand descending towards its surface.

Just before it dipped beneath the waves, inches above the surface was Veemon's spherical head. The Digimon of Miracles struggled to keep his head above the fetid water. How much of his body was immersed, she did not know.

Neither could she care.

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized Veemon was still alive. Now that she was there, right there with him, the Digimon of Light felt her anxiety leaving her, leaving behind a vacant hole that relief quickly filled like the formless water churning in that dark, damp, and noisome pipe.

Tailmon was so happy to discover Veemon alive. Her mind was lifted by joyful thoughts, which washed away the guilt, washed away the pained images of Patamon and Daisuke being burned into her head. Euphoria struck her, keeping the cat focused, and almost obsessively so, on lifting the blue dragon out of the churning waters.

Mindful of any oncoming debris, Tailmon forced her entrenched arm deeper into the odd mixture of ground and cement surrounding the pipe's circumference while seizing Veemon by the humerus (just below his deactivated triband suppressor, it turned out). She kept her pressure on the dragon's only hand—she was lucky to have gotten to him in time. He must've been losing his grip, she thought.

Tailmon shuddered to think what would've happened had she been tardy for just three seconds. Five. Each moment was precious and critical. The Chosen couldn't have survived without the white cat's haste.

The water was **numbingly** cold. Veemon's body shivered uncontrollably, despite most of his body submerged underwater, safe from the rushing wind. She noticed his claws were dug into the notch, tearing into the concrete as though they could save their owner from this fatal predicament. The fact Veemon had the strength in him to stay afloat for a few precious instants was a minor footnote to the real miracle—that he had managed to get a grip on the wall **at all**.

Tailmon pulled on the dragon's arm, noting its oily, slippery texture—no doubt a feature of the water more than it was his own skin. "I gotcha," Tailmon reassured him, fighting against the overwhelming pressure. She tightened her grip, and with a vicious snarl of agony and strength, the Digimon of Light brought the blue dragon out of the watery deathtrap.

Before his survival instincts kicked in and possibly force the two of them back into the drink, the Chosen swung her comrade and fellow Chosen to the wall. Veemon's body caused the wall to shudder, and Tailmon was not minding her strength. Still, such pain was trifling compared to the prospect of death. A horrible one at that.

Tailmon was beside him as soon as she felt Veemon hit the wall. Her arm swiveled past him, arcing around his back and pulling him into what some might consider an intimate hug (or half of it) when she really was doing her best to ensure all her efforts were not in vain.

Indeed, the Digimon of Miracles reclined into Tailmon's makeshift railing, and at the precise second his smooth, leathery skin touched her fur, Tailmon was suddenly aware of his shivering. The constant clickety-clack of his chattering teeth. The vibrations disturbing every breath.

With what little eyesight her eyes granted her in this dark pipe, Tailmon fixed her gaze on the small passage at the end and urged her dragonic companion to continue. "Keep going," she instructed, sharing notches with Daisuke's partner. A paw over his hand, and her foot over his, Tailmon willingly became the dragon's crutch for this leg of the journey, egging him to keep shimmying to the right.

Her arm was outstretched, ready to catch him should he fall. It may have exposed her to the random debris flowing along the currents, but her Adult form was more than enough to ensure such garbage would not snag and drag her into the water like the Digimon of Miracles.

Though their journey was slow, though they must have taken at least five grueling minutes to reach the end, though there were multiple times when Veemon almost slipped again, the blue dragon did not come close to meeting the surface of the raging waters for a second time.

Tailmon leapt up the smaller pipe as soon as Veemon—after struggling with lack of strength—made it through. She found him no more than five feet from the subterranean river, her ears sensing the rapid thumps of his heart. Every beat denoted terror. Untamed panic, running wild within his inscrutable head, even as the dragon was motionless, lying down, sprawled and palpitating.

Veemon winced at her touch, and his skin was cold. _Dangerously_ cold, and Tailmon's instincts commanded her to retreat at the moment of contact. But the white cat persevered, ripping Xiaochun's raincoat with her claws before crawling on top of Veemon to curl her entire body around his.

Tailmon could hear the furious screams in her mind. The skin beneath her ashen fur screeched and wailed in pain, quivering from the dragon's frigid temperature and demanding sweet relief. Protests from _Patamon_—Patamon!—besieged her mind and condemned every second she spent cuddling with the blue dragon.

The way she hugged him was perverse. An unforgivable insult to the hamster's memory. The Digimon of Hope's voice wormed its way into her head, decrying her for this lack of commitment, for dirtying herself with his best friend. With _their_ best friend. Curses and degrading slurs echoed in her head, but Tailmon resisted them all.

She resisted the cold, for she knew Veemon was as warm-blooded as she was, susceptible to extreme temperatures no differently from a human. She couldn't let the blue dragon succumb to hypothermia, not if she had her way.

Patamon's ghost continued to haunt her, echoing messages she tuned out without hesitation. Tailmon knew without a doubt the Digimon of Hope would **never** say such things. Patamon was far too understanding and too thoughtful to even slap her with reproachful slander in response to saving their best friend's life.

"Praise the Harmonious Ones," Tailmon found herself uttering, nuzzling the Chosen's back in elation. "You're alive." Skeptical tittering went out her snout. The kind of chuckling that was never meant to downplay the grave dilemma they just surmounted, but to distract the white cat from the fact it _was_ grave, from the fact Veemon nearly died, from the fact Hikari herself nearly died. "You're **alive**!"

She laughed like anyone would after surviving the face of inevitable death. _Barely_ surviving.

If Veemon ever acknowledged her and her insane murmurs, it must've been his long, prolonged sigh. The digimon was shivering in her embrace, keeping silent, basking instead in the warmth of the feline's body. Only after five minutes did he speak, and with much difficulty. "T-Tailmon," he croaked, so softly to the point it almost fell short of its recipient's hearing.

Tailmon perked, attentive to the words he said next. "…Thank you." She did not know it, but in those two words alone was the utmost gratitude injected. Unparalleled appreciation for her concern. For the mere fact he still had friends who worried for him.

* * *

For Hikari, the ordeal was a nightmare. Worry struck her the instant Tailmon returned from the pipe, her screams rendered inaudible by the rushing air. Fear drilled deep into her psyche she yelled those two words. Two words that, until now, still sent chills descending her spine.

"_VEEMON FELL!"_

She wanted to help. She wanted to induce Tailmon's evolution and force everything to just _stop_, but the white cat refused to listen. She _hissed_ at her own partner, adopting that authoritative tone she had always associated with her older brother. That protective intonation, insisting she block out everything and proceed onward, if only to remove one more source of worry from the equation.

Hikari couldn't blame her partner. Anger at treating her human half with such disrespect was something the feline did not deserve. The Child of Light would've done the same thing in her place had Daisuke been the one with them in that tunnel. She might have even gone for something far worse than an irritated growl if it had been _Takeru_.

The Chosen Child followed her digital half's instructions to the letter, crawling the instant she entered the 500 millimeter pipe. Its dryness took her by surprise—the pipe hasn't been used at all; not even running water coursed through its cylindrical walls. A fact made even more astonishing by the heavy battering of raindrops from the asphalt meters above her, from the thunderous voice of the waters rumbling behind her.

Terror gripped Hikari within this dark, subterranean world. Light was denied from her vision, and she remained cognizant of the cramped space enveloping her body. Rumbling reverberated in her ears, echoing, attacking her from all sides. On occasion the Chosen Child froze at ominous crashes, some she swore came from the _path beyond_. She thought the world was telling her even Taichi made mistakes, mocking the way she worshipped him like a god of war and strategy, and that one of these had cost the life of his dearest sister.

Only until Buddha knew how many minutes had passed did the younger Yagami realize it was all in her head. Paranoia and claustrophobia were beginning to take their toll on her mind. How much longer could she keep on going? How long _had_ she been crawling? What was happening back there? Did Veemon really fall into the water? Could he still be saved?

Or would someone discover his slowly-disintegrating corpse in Tokyo Bay tomorrow morning?

After what felt like an eternity, the pipe relaxed its crushing grip, granting her the space she so desperately needed. It also came with a weak flow of water, trickling towards an even narrower tube that led back to those horrific currents. Caught off-guard by the wetness, Hikari shrieked out of fright, the prospects of meeting a wall of a watery doom inundating her every thought. Even the intuition on which many of her gender relied.

But go on she eventually did, choosing to rest when the path was wide enough for her to stand with a bowed head. There, she sat on the side, taking care not to touch the filthy, slow-running stream of water in the middle. There, she closed her eyes and leaned back, taking one deep breath after another, letting calm enter her heart.

There, Hikari waited for her digimon partner, her mind filled with the hope the Digimon of Miracles would be accompanying her.

There, she fell asleep.

.

.

.

"For the last time, Veemon, _don't worry about it_."

The voice brought Hikari Yagami out of slumber as soon as it was spoken, traveling from the direction of that _death_ trap. "Mmmmnnhuh?" She blinked her eyes, for a second forgetting she was sitting inside a world of absolute darkness.

A deep, sniffing sound followed her groan. "But I **stink**! Smells just like the unholy combination of rotting meat and Daisuke's dirty undies."

"Maybe you wouldn't be thinking about it too much if you'd stop sniffing your own armpits."

"Since I'm the one _crawling_ here, Tailmon, maybe you'd like to know **your foot** smells just as bad!"

"Be happy you're still around to even smell it," was the reply. "I don't know how you did it, but if you hadn't caught that notch in the wall…"

"I _know_ what would've happened, and I can't thank you enough—

"That's number twelve now."

"—for going back and pulling me out of the drink, but that's got nothing to do with my complaints."

An exasperated groan. "Why do I even—

"Huh, what's _that _supposed to mean?"

The Chosen Child did not give Tailmon the opportunity to answer. An interruption the white cat found relieving, she confessed later. "Tailmon?" she called. "Veemon? Are you guys there?"

"YEEEEESSSS!" the blue dragon cried, not hearing the junior Yagami. "I can **FINALLY** stand up!"

"Hey, Hikari!" the Digimon of Light returned. Her sweet voice was heaven to her partner's ears. And to think she was wondering if she'd ever come to hear Tailmon again. "Sorry we kept you waiting—

"_Eeeeww_!" Veemon's voice drowned the other voice. "Is that water?" A second passed. "Ugh, it's _slimy_. I can still feel it in my toes!"

"—Had to keep Veemon warm for about fifteen minutes. Couldn't risk him getting hypothermia."

"Are you guys okay? Do you need a little more rest?"

A pause. Veemon made a loud sniffing noise. "This is just _great_. Now my foot smells like **shi**—

"_He_'s obviously okay. We've got our fair share of rest. How you holding up?"

The heavy footsteps echoed throughout the pipe, and despite the blanket of darkness, soon enough Hikari felt their body warmth adding some life to this claustrophobic nightmare. "I worried myself to sleep," she admitted. "But, knowing you're here now relieves me."

"Do _you_ want to sit down a little longer?" The tone in Tailmon's voice was a worried one.

Anyone with any amount of dignity would've taken her words with offense, slamming the feline speaker with allegations of hurling pity and, worse, lack of faith in the ability to emotionally withstand such frightening, near-death experiences.

But Hikari was not anyone. As her life partner, Tailmon was aware of her human half's enduring weaknesses, and Hikari Yagami herself was one of those fortunate people who were self-aware of their own foibles and would never lash out at someone who pointed it out under the context of concern and apprehension.

This relationship also went full circle, and the Child of Light saw through this alarmed veil, penetrating Tailmon's suggestion and its intonation, as she discerned the self-loathing that must surely be running through the white cat's head.

If only she had been watching Veemon. If only she had been quicker. If only she ensured everyone's safety, being the last to leave that howling passage of death. Then they wouldn't have wasted so much time. Hikari wouldn't have succumbed to the sandman's embrace with anxious questions attacking what was already a broken spirit, made even more fragile by the losses taken by the Chosen Children and the misfortunes of the Digidestined.

"I'm okay, Tailmon," the woman spoke, reaching for her partner and giving her the strongest hug she could give. "You don't have to worry about me. Everything's okay now." Hikari kissed her forehead.

She hoped the cat stopped beating herself up for this. None of it was her fault. What has happened has happened, and now they must proceed lest they lose their window of opportunity.

"Good," Tailmon licked her cheek, acquiescing to her words and took point. "We'll have to keep going. Our informant had dug the entrance somewhere up ahead." She placed her paw on the wall and walked onward, stopping after a couple of paces.

Hikari raised her hands in the air until she felt Veemon bump into it. The woman seized the dragon's hand and squeezed it tight.

"Uhhh…"

"It's better this way. We _both_ can't see anything in here, and the last thing I want is one of us getting lost."

The digimon ahead of them tittered darkly. "F.Y.I., I can't see a thing either."

Veemon blurted. "Oh noes…"

"Don't worry about it," Tailmon assuaged. "Just keep your hands on the left side. Our informant dug the entrance somewhere ahead, and we'll know we went too far once this pipe starts tightening again."

"Say what!" The blue dragon protested. "Tailmon, do you **realize** how _long_ it'll take for us to find a small _hole _in the dark?"

"Did you pack a flashlight in your belt?"

"Errrrr, no…"

"Then we don't have much of a choice. Hikari's D-Terminal doesn't generate enough light to illuminate more than a foot ahead."

"Awww…"

The Digimon of Miracles may have given up hope on the easy way out, but not Hikari Yagami. An idea ran through her head the moment Tailmon mentioned her D-Terminal. An idea that nagged at her until the woman began rummaging her pockets. Not for her D-Terminal, but for something stronger.

"Hold on," she verbalized. "I forgot about my iPhone. The flashlight app will definitely help."

"Yey!" celebrated Veemon. "Hikari's getting us some light!"

The junior Yagami sighed. Given the nature of her Crest and the structure of the Japanese language, _that_ sounded wrong on _so_ many different levels. The dragon probably wasn't cognizant of it, and to point it out was a waste of time.

She found it rather easily. Though damp from the moisture of the raging tunnel, luckily for them the machine did not short-circuit and was available for use. Its flashlight was strong enough to light the path ahead for roughly three meters. Far enough to find the entrance of the passage.

"Lead the way, Hikari." Tailmon had the most wonderful smile on her muzzle, and so did Veemon. Seeing those grins uplifted her spirits, feeding the 21-year-old with a foreign feeling that was no different from vertigo.

It was a high no drug could ever match. Hikari reveled in it even as she walked, two steps at a time. What was this invigorating feeling? Was this the adrenaline rush Taichi felt back then, spearheading the Chosen Children to victory? Was this what inspired them to accomplish something not even adults could ever achieve?

As a veteran, the Child of Light was not new to the terrifying rush of combat, of gambling one's lives and artifacts held close to the art in the primitive and barbaric clash of powers. But this was different. Seeing her life partner and her best friend's surrogate brother and the beams shining on their snouts brought out a form of happiness Hikari Yagami might have never enjoyed had she lingered in her rut, cowering over the curse of real life and the capture of her brother.

Looking back, this responsibility perhaps may have been one reason why neither she nor Takeru were cut out for the demands of leadership. That others would depend on her was a terrifying position to be in, especially when human nature was wont to cling on to the notions of freedom and independence, never ceding it to any other authority until death.

Back then, maybe she and her beloved might have led the second generation down a different path had Daisuke Motomiya restrained his passion for his code of justice, a moral standard she knew Veemon inherited through their relationship.

Ten years ago, Hikari always had someone to lean on.

Ten years ago, she was but one of five trusting Daisuke and his instincts.

Ten years ago, Hikari Yagami lacked the conviction to take on the mantle of responsibility that was leadership.

Now, she had no one but herself.

Now, others trusted in her and her intuition.

Now, the Child of Light was forced to take the lead, lest she cede Taichi, Daisuke, and the Digidestined to their fates.

Now, the light of her iPhone shone on an aberrant gap in the wall. A slit two feet up, one that was literally a crawlspace. Not even Tailmon's size spared her from this ordeal. "Is this it?"

Tailmon's corroboration did not sit well with her two companions. "Yes."

Veemon's jaw dropped as soon as his scarlet eyes fell on the hole. "Are you **kidding** me?" He dashed to the gap and stuck his hand inside, trembling and shivering as though he had put his limb at the mercy of a hungry, bloodthirsty beast waiting to snap its teeth shut. "We gotta crawl through **that**?"

"Yes."

"Couldn't you and Renamon have, uhh, you know, made it** BIGGER**?"

"And force the tunnel to collapse, destroying the **only** safe way into the M&A Wing?"

The blue dragon hissed. His head struck the wall on the opposite side, his headbutt echoing through the pipe as he moaned. "Wwwwhhhyyyyyy?"

Hikari Yagami shook her head. "Our informant must have been careful." She cast her coquelicot eyes on Daisuke's partner, leaning dejectedly behind her. "Other people would've reacted the same way." The woman brought her gaze back on the opening and quivered from the returning claustrophobia. "Even me."

Tailmon placed her hand on her human half's. "Renamon and I didn't believe it either until Taichi and Rika had us explore this. It starts going down after two hundred meters, but we didn't go on after that. The depth alone convinced us the information was genuine, but we were… afraid for our partners' safety. We thought we might've set off alarms in there."

"But you didn't."

"Yes."

The Chosen Child looked back at the wall, peering into the tight, enclosed darkness ahead. Fear glazed her eyes, and the trepidation stubbornly refused to abandon her and instead devoured whatever was left of that wonderful vertigo and bliss. "Do you—do you think it leads to a trap?" She looked at her partner, staring straight into those orbs of crystal blue. "What do you think's waiting for us on the other side?"

With a grimace, the Chosen shut her eyes and did not answer, for it was as clear and as ostensible as anyone could grasp it.

She didn't know.

Tailmon, honestly and truly, did not know what was waiting for them.

Hikari gulped, swallowing the glob of saliva gathering in her throat as though trying to absorb the tightening knot that was paralyzing her. The act did nothing to soothe her nerves, and all she could do was ogle the slit on the wall.

The Chosen Child stood there for a minute, dumbfounded. Her smartphone went to sleep, plunging all three of them into darkness. Hikari Yagami stretched her limbs, wondering if she should subject the group to a claustrophobic esophagus snaking beneath Tokyo to what could be the belly of the beast, where they would be welcomed not with open arms and smiles but with hostile glowers and cocked rifles.

Veemon was the first to break the silence, and she jumped from the imperative statement. "C'mon, let's go!" What startled Hikari wasn't the closeness of his disembodied rasp, but the humorless color that marked his childish voice. "Taichi and Daisuke are waiting for us down there. We can't just let them down." An unexpected level of maturity carried them through the Chosen Child's ears, one that was but a mere glimpse of the horrors—of the agony—of the pain the blue dragon must have endured to get here. Standing on his own two feet.

But it didn't matter if they had all the time in the world, if the Chosen sat down in that tunnel like it was a bar and narrated his experiences in excessive detail. Hikari Yagami could and would never comprehend his agony, never realize just how much the actions of Daisuke and Christopher tarnished his views of the world. Not even Tailmon, whose upbringing under Vamdemon exposed her to the tyrannies of reality, would have the ability to fully empathize with him.

"We can't back down now." The digimon took a deep breath. "We **have** to go through with this." Seconds lapsed silently, and perhaps Veemon was peering at Hikari with those crimson pools. Even in the dark she could feel his stare boring into her. "It doesn't matter if it's a trap or not. We're prepared for this, and there's no use just standing here."

His feet shuffled twice, their steps echoing loudly for all three of them to hear. She sensed his warm body passing by her, arms rising for the slit in the wall. "You can 'gather courage' as long as you want, Hikari, but I refuse to let our time go to waste."

Tailmon called for him, perhaps reaching out for his body before he could do anything else. "Veemon, wait—

"He's right," the woman concurred, the Chosen herself inhaling sharply before blowing all the air in her lungs in an attempt to expulse the diffidence that gripped her. This was no longer a time for their petty feelings. Regardless of their sentiments, regardless of their personal fears, in the end everything came down to following through with their mission before Buddha shut the window of opportunity on their faces. Without paraphrasing everything he said, "Who's going first?"

"Me." The Digimon of Light sauntered to the gap; Hikari heard her give the blue dragon a gentle push, shoving him away from the constricting, vaginal entrance. "My senses are better than either of yours and I'm the only one here with night-vision."

Once Tailmon was through the hole, Veemon cracked his knuckles. "Ayt! And coming up next is—

"Isn't you," voiced Hikari, deciding on the same formation used entering this creepy drain.

"What! Why?"

"I can't crawl as fast as you both. Someone has to stay behind for me."

He protested. "But Hikari! What about Tailmon? She's your part—

She would've let Daisuke's partner enter the passage before her, for she knew Tailmon was qualified to take point, her quick movements and high stamina ensuring her swift progress through the crawlspace. Veemon might have easily kept up, but for now, she wanted the blue dragon to match her pace.

"Tailmon's the better digimon for the job," the lady interrupted. "Besides, she's already gone on ahead. If she finds out you deserted _me_ to keep up with her…"

Insinuating he would hastily scuttle through the gap in his unusual initiative to just **do** something useful and inadvertently leave Tailmon's human half behind did the trick. She could already visualize his drooping ears. "Oh, alright," Veemon grumbled. "You win." The tone suggested a slight frown had been plastered on him.

While she did not want a repeat of that ordeal in the drainage, and of course, preferred Tailmon's company more than Daisuke's digital half, the fact remained the younger Yagami sought to speak with the blue dragon, as an item worthy of discussion had been tugging her mind since they departed the Li house.

The Child of Light remembered the Chosen's anguish all too clearly, and it didn't make sense for all that to suddenly vanish in the three hours between midnight and this moment in time, not when the separation was still fresh, not when the short, week-old friendship between him and Christopher had been surprisingly strong to the point it produced that disconcerting fallout and disillusion.

What happened between then and now? What repelled all the sadness exuding from Veemon's small but sturdy frame? Did he accomplish it on his own or did he receive aid of some sort? Was it long-lasting or was it a temporary fix?

Such questions were relevant. Not because she had a particular, if not obsessive, care for the Digimon of Miracles, but because Hikari was, again, concerned for the future. Her visions had been strikingly real, and sometimes she couldn't help herself wondering if what had happened between Christopher and Veemon were _supposed_ to happen. If their first contact and subsequent separation was marked by the signature of destiny.

If, indeed, they would reconcile and become friends again. This was a scenario she must prevent. Not for anyone's sake but her own, for the fact Daisuke Motomiya was still alive in this dark and terrible world brought hope back in Hikari's dejected, forlorn disposition.

Hikari Yagami did not care about Veemon. In truth, she didn't even care about Daisuke. All she wanted was some semblance of normality. A return to what once were. She was concerned not because she had genuine concern for the Child of Miracles, but because _she wanted him back in her life_, just as much as she wanted Takeru **even more so**.

It was a callous and insensitive motive, and many people—her brother, her parents, her friends, hell, even the fans she received from both her animé and her Digimon Education lectures in the past—would rather slash their stomachs than accept this allegation. Not even the junior Yagami herself would accept this facet of her person had she been self-aware, a state of mind denied to her by the fundamental stance she had taken. A stance of grief, mourning over the death of the Golden Age and bemoaning their agony and suffering at the hands of her fellow men.

This was why the Child of Light broke the silence minutes after the group crawled into that space.

Although the slit in the wall had been an extremely tight fit, and crawling through the gap was an ordeal so horrific it had no other comparison, after an indeterminate amount of time, the passage had widened a bit, permitting a faster crawl and a better position (far better than lying down on the belly head down **while** moving onward). The path, carved right off the rock, had long begun its descent, sharply falling into the abyss. They were far past the mark that had been made when Renamon and Tailmon turned back.

Hikari Yagami did not want to take out her iPhone and risk it slipping from her grasp. That phone was an important lifeline for the mission ahead, to be used during the escape. They couldn't afford to lose it. Illumination in exchange for isolation and a troublesome flight later on? Over Buddha's dead body.

Tailmon was far, far ahead. Though she patiently waited for them several meters ahead at a time, once the passage had widened enough for her to _run_, the white cat lingered until both Veemon and her partner caught up. "Hikari, Veemon. This is big enough for me to go on all fours, so I'll scout out the rest of the path."

Hikari reached for her cellphone and handed it to her digital half. "Tailmon, use this if you need some light." She didn't want to do this, but she knew her digital half was as responsible and as cautious as Taichi and Rika. Hikari may not have been confident in her own grip, but she was with Tailmon's.

Veemon's question floated from behind. "You **do** know how to use an iPhone, right?" A soft murmuring followed it, signifying the unusual mix of jealousy and nostalgia. "'Cause I sure _don't_."

Unaware of the slight envy the Digimon of Light remarked. "I've used Hikari's all the time." The white cat chuckled. "No one really knows this, but I'm more gadget-savvy than any other digimon in the Real World. Koushirou used to come over and talk about it with me."

The dragon sharply inhaled. "Get outta here!"

"True story, actually," Hikari defended.

"Nerd-talking with Koushirou over _gadgets_?" Veemon scoffed, ignoring the woman's comment. "**You**? Why do I find that so hard to believe…"

"You've never seen that side of me," verbalized the cat, returning to business as soon as the words were articulated. "That's why." She scurried down the passage, running as fast as her legs could take her. Hikari figured her partner had her phone right between the teeth, but its condition was secondary compared to the words coming out of her lips as soon as Tailmon had gone on so far her movements were audible no longer.

"Veemon?"

"What is it?" He grunted, hissing slightly as he lurched his body forward behind her, arms probably prickling with pain, albeit not as bad as the only human accompanying him.

"I was wondering," Hikari said. Her words ceased, allowing her to gather some thoughts as they pursued the Digimon of Light.

"Wondering what?" His articulation may have been neutral, but Hikari had the perspicacity to detect the slight rise in emotion. Veemon didn't like the sound of this, and he being a captive audience didn't help matters either.

The Chosen Child addressed his question with another. "Why are you helping us?"

"W-what?" He coughed and choked, caught off-guard by the question. "I don't get—

"**Why** did you tag along, Veemon?" Hikari clarified. "This is practically _a suicide mission._"

"That's—t-that's because—

"You can't evolve—

"I know."

"—you've got no special abilities in that body—

"I _know_."

"—and the way you are now, you're **no different** from a human with a gun."

"I **KNOW **already!" the Chosen blurted, shouting to the point spit flew out his muzzle and the junior Yagami was silenced in its wake. "I'm a burden to you two, Hikari. I can see that. I'm just an extra set of hands and legs that won't amount to much in a battle with platoons of those _soldiers_. Did you haaaave to rub it in?"

"That's not what I meant—

"You and Tailmon are my friends, Hikari," reasoned the dragon, diving into the crux of her intentions without giving her the opportunity to assuage any sense of inferiority she might have caused. "Same for Taichi and Agumon."

Sad whines were intoned. "You're _all_ my friends." Adjusting his voice down to a disappointed whisper—a dejected whimper—failed to soften to the genuine sorrow circulating through his breaths. If that had been his intention at all. "And friends," he reiterated, "friends help each other. It doesn't matter if I'm weak—if I'm strong—if I'm a burden—if I'm helpful or not."

The normal Veemon, Hikari was certain, would have said all these with an infectious smile, laughing in a mirthful attitude like no other. Ten years ago, naïve innocence enveloped him the way it would a precious child. That these ideals were now verbalized in the company of disappointment and gloom underscored his hidden motives. Veemon's participation in the Infiltration was not just his choice, but rather **his testimony**.

His testament to the difference between him and Christopher.

As if reading her mind, "It's the _gesture_ that counts. That's all there is to it."

Hikari doubted anything else could be a more apparent indication of his simmering ire—his frustrations toward the manipulator. "So you're doing this to prove a point?"

Veemon accepted her inference without so much as an acknowledgement. "I want to do something productive," he proclaimed. "I want to show that I'm different: that I can and **will** put my friends—my **REAL **friends first!"

"You… you're still angry—

"_Pissed off_, Hikari." The correction came with a tone of annoyance. It was no different from derision, and she was sure the dragon was facing her direction with a dumbfounded look on his face. "**Really** pissed off!"

"I-I, I just had to make sure."

The junior Yagami didn't know what else she could say to that. Veemon was acting like nothing had happened, save that he appeared more determined than ever. Something fueled him, _motivated_ him to take the initiative. To brave a terrifying, near-death experience only to face more hardships ahead, all the more insurmountable than they really were by the mere fact Daisuke Motomiya was not there to help him evolve.

She pondered on the _one thing_ propelling Veemon through these hardships. A question whose answer continued to elude her. A question that, after disclosing a laconic version of her reasons, Hikari hoped he would resolve. "How are you feeling now?"

An indeterminate period of silence passed between them. Veemon's answer had no desire to leap off his tongue. His jaw was clamped, not making a single sound despite the fact he and Hikari continued to make their way across this endless passage. Despite the fact their muscles were probably screaming now, howling for a breather, and demanding them to stop in this dusty and smutty crawlspace. Had they stopped, perhaps one of them might have noticed the slow, weak current moving the air in this place. Subtle ventilation that foreshadowed their destination and the tribulations that came with it.

Within the realm of rumination, the Chosen Child explored the rationale behind Veemon's extended silence. Daisuke's partner was subdued to her pace, yet his mouth was shut tight since the moment that last question departed from her lips. The more she thought about it, the more she didn't like it. Not because she didn't want the Digimon of Miracles to reconcile with his former friend, but because of the seeming inevitability of these events and her increasing confusion over the fact they were happening in the first place—after all, shouldn't the Harmonious Ones have at least _prepared _for the onset of this war?

Then Veemon spoke.

It came without her prodding. It came without a second iteration of her query.

Yet it was a fruitless articulation. It bore no benefit for the Child of Light. "I don't know, Hikari."

"And to tell you the truth," he went on, cutting her off as though Veemon knew _exactly _what was running through her head, "I can't tell you why."

"HIKARI!"

Before the Chosen Child formulated a reply, heavy steps and jarring scratching noise that cut deep into their ears rumbled in the darkness beyond them, vibrating the stale air. Light shone from the lower portions of the shaft, announcing the return of her partner, sister, and best friend, all rolled into one.

But the listener did not turn her head towards the brightening light of her iPhone. Her partner's voice passed through her ears without a single reaction. Hikari, focused on her other companion, glimpsed the Chosen's muzzle as the features of this tight cavern burst into shape and color.

She discerned the wide, black ovals inundating the entire surface of Veemon's scarlet pools. She concentrated on the perplexed aura shimmering within those vacant orbs as she cast a glance at his muzzle. Hikari recognized his haunted expression. It reeked of emptiness—of meaninglessness—of a sadness that was lured into the open by the shelter of absolute darkness.

The exuded emotion was ostensible, its intensity so tangible the Chosen Child was **compelled** to jump back in astonishment (and accidentally hit her head on the rock ceiling). She hissed in pain and rubbed her head, but not even that stopped her from analyzing the conflicted emotions thrumming inside Daisuke's surrogate brother.

Or at least, she **tried** to analyze them. Veemon's snout irradiated a frightening uneasiness her coquelicot gaze had never processed in the past. Her mind was quite busy, perhaps to the extent it never occurred to her that she herself was possibly the only other person who had been enveloped by such a frighteningly disturbed air.

Nonetheless, all thought processes were revoked and cancelled the moment Tailmon's voice reached her—_their _ears for the second time in ten seconds. "VEEMON!" At the sound of his name, the blue dragon's muzzle switched out, swapping that disturbing look with something more… Hikari was unsure if "normal" was the proper way to put it.

"You won't believe what I found at the end!"

Hikari, like anyone who knew Veemon long and well, expected the digimon to whine and complain like an immature child would. Her expectations did not disappoint. "Are we _there_ yet?"

The Chosen Child's eyes did not relinquish the blue dragon. They ogled him. They watched his muzzle mouth a complaint in his characteristic moan. "Phony" was a more appropriate word at this point.

Tailmon noticed nothing. "Almost!" she twittered, happy to have his signature behavior back. "Another ten minutes from here's a dead end—

Hikari Yagami's concentration broke; she twirled around and, as she felt like slamming her head on the rocks clamping down on her entire body, "We've gone all this way **for a dead-end**?"

Her digital half shook her head fervidly. "No, no! Let me finish first!" Her crystal blue eyes reeled back to the darkness behind her. "There's an _open manhole_ in there, and it goes **straight** down. I found a ladder carved into the sides and—

"Straight down?" the human reiterated. "How far down? You know where it leads?"

Hidden behind the light, Tailmon's silhouette replied with another negative gesture. "I wouldn't know, Hikari. Your phone can't reach far down enough and I didn't want to go _that_ far ahead."

"It doesn't matter!" Veemon piped happily. "Progress is progress."

The dragon's attitude struck her as counterfeit and deliberate. Tailmon may not have seen through it, but Hikari certainly did. She could only hope his emotional state didn't revolve around some demented form of desperation.

Before the woman knew it, she felt Veemon breaching her personal space, inching towards the light. "I'd say we get a move on and investigate!" The Chosen faced Hikari when they were almost neck-to-neck, cramped in one spot. "Sorry, but, you wouldn't mind if Tailmon and I go ahead for a bit, would you?"

"_You wouldn't mind if I get away from you?"_ was her interpretation. Finding the subject of interest too uncomfortable for his taste, he had feigned initiative in an attempt to elude her concern and the motherly interrogation with it. Had he been Takeru, or perhaps even Daisuke, Hikari would've fought like a _bitch_ to prevent this sly and discourteous method of escape.

But Veemon was neither of the two. As much as she felt some sympathy for his emotional state, in the end the woman didn't know the digimon as well as her own partner. She had no right restraining Veemon against his will. Aware of this, the Child of Light released him. "No," she articulated. "Not really."

Her coquelicot gaze locked with cerulean. "Tailmon, could you go with him?" Hikari ignored the rather vicious glare he gave her at this request. "I don't want Veemon tumbling in the dark and getting into some freak accident."

"No need to worry," the cat shrugged. "The room up ahead has low lighting. He'd hit his head a lot going there, but unless he does something really stupid like climbing down that hole—

"I'm still here, you know!"

"—instead of waiting for us then I don't think—

"Tailmon, _please_."

The feline hesitated. "Are you sure?" Naturally, she didn't want to leave her human half alone. Not like this. "The rate you're crawling, it'll take you about twenty minutes. Maybe even more. Hikari, I want to stay—

"I'll be okay," she rejoined, wiping the sweat on her brow with her arm warmers. "If there's light at the end, and enough room to lounge comfortably, then I can wait for you there while you two scout it out. I'm beginning to wonder where it leads…"

Veemon chuckled, perhaps happy enough with Hikari's decision he chose to overlook being chaperoned by a fellow Chosen. "Heh! For all we know, it'll bring us straight to the DDS."

He crawled past Hikari, tail swaying behind his legs. He muttered a barely-audible _thank you _as he slinked away, gazing up at Tailmon as she smirked at his words. "Dream on. Like our mission will start off **that** easy."

"Eh! You never know!"

* * *

Thank the Harmonious Ones he's finally getting away!

Hikari's prodding had been making Veemon _increasingly_ uncomfortable. The questions she was asking, first into his reasons for joining their suicide mission, _then_ proceeding to his own emotional state? What was she up to? The Chosen Child had never been **this** concerned for him, not even during the Golden Age, regularly visiting Tailmon or Patamon in their homes, much to the chagrin of a then _extremely_ jealous Daisuke.

No matter how touched he was by the level of empathy both Tailmon and her human half had shown him, Veemon's feelings—Veemon's motivations were no one's business but _his own_. The dragon of the brightest blue was wary of Hikari's intent, his sense of privacy stripped away to the point he almost felt as naked as the time Christopher confessed to reading the English scribbles in his room, the secrets hidden in plain sight, all of which he thought nobody was able to read.

Every word he spoke seconds ago was the truth. He honestly couldn't tell Hikari how he was at the moment. Veemon was conflicted, unable to perceive the emotion gripping his heart. The Digimon of Miracles, perplexed, wondered even to this very moment if he should be mournful, livid, disappointed, hopeful, or even skeptical.

Multiple feelings tugged at every fiber of his person. Veemon couldn't deny the fact he still mourned over the "close friendship" he had with the blond (if it could be called such). Veemon knew he was ardently _livid_ at how the man deceived him and strung him along, taking advantage of his yearnings for the past, of his singular ambition of seeing Daisuke Motomiya again!

Despite his unquenched anger, the Digimon of Miracles still felt the pangs of disappointment bringing him down, cooling off his rage. Disappointed at Christopher's decision to resolve the conflicting priorities through dissociation rather than accepting the circumstances like a man and aiding those who considered him a friend—helping Veemon recover Daisuke! Assisting the splintered Twelve in their fight against bigotry, discrimination, and injustice!

If those weren't problems on their own, the digimon still had the blond's parting gift to assess. Though he found it a useful tool for this mission, believed it was a sign the dissolved relationship was not an artificial construct built solely for the purpose of manipulation and deceit, and took it as a symbol of atonement, Veemon was boggled—hesitant—perplexed with how he should treat it. Should he approach this gesture with hope? Or should he choose to go for suspicion, in light of the unforgivable sins the DITE's former owner had committed this very night.

Veemon silently thanked Tailmon for saving his blue ass the moment he knew his vague, indeterminate response would surely tug Hikari's curiosity. He might have even kissed her for it (if it wasn't going to get him slapped! The thought was still awkward, at the very least). The new information was welcome to his ears. Spellbound by an initiative acquired through leadership experience and his relationship with his human half, Veemon crawled past Hikari Yagami, intending to be the first to explore this hole.

The Chosen looked back at the Child of Light for one last time, his scarlet gaze locking with her sad, pitying eyes. Heaving a sigh, he ignored the worry emanating from the woman and proceeded on, nodding at his fellow Chosen all the while thinking why her human half subdued him at her pace and questioned him over—

Taichi's sister grabbed his ankle as he was leaving. Veemon swiveled towards her, eyes dilating. What did she want? He watched her lips part. What was she—

"Veemon, an underground train connects both M&A and R&D." Her words were hushed.

"Wha—I don't know where you're—

"Look, I know it's a long shot. A really, **really** long shot but—

"Hikari..." Veemon pulled his leg; her grip was too tight. She resisted him, and Veemon couldn't do anything without hurting the 21-year-old and incurring the wrath of her digital half. He tugged again, but nothing seemed to go through to her. Why wasn't she letting go? "Can you just tell me what's on your—

"We might cross paths with Christopher."

So **that**'s why. That was why she butted in front of him. Why her slow pace felt deliberate. Why she zoned in on his emotional well-being. Why she held him hostage with her own body, knowing the blue dragon would never hurt her, out of respect for their friendship and his close relationship with her digital half.

The two of them locked eyes. Veemon's scarlet eyes twitched with the desire to avert their gaze, while Hikari's stare never wavered. The woman acted as though she had a gift for reading people, analyzing facial expressions and the emotions emanated visibly in his still pupils.

He croaked, feigning indifference. "S-so?" If only the Chosen Child was someone else. If only it was a DSI soldier. Or maybe even the blond bastard himself. That way, he'd kick the hand away, slam his dirty foot into the offender's face, and increase the distance between them as fast as possible. "That's never gonna happen, Hikari. He's kilometers away from here and—

Reality had a cruel, if not funny way of forcing one to face one's issues. "Answer me, Veemon. What **will** you do then? If you two end up seeing each other, face to face?"

"Is there even a point?" he squealed, exhausted at the way she pressed the problem and shoved it to his muzzle. "We're not friends anymore. He'll ignore me—maybe he'll kill me only because I got in his way."

This conversation invoked speculations of the man reaching for his throat and slamming him into the wall. He'd repeat their first contact. Repeat the moment their paths crossed. But this time would be different. This time he would finish the job—destroy the dragon without feeling the slightest bit of remorse—endure anything and everything Tailmon could and _would_ use on him, employing whatever form her evolutionary line possessed.

Veemon had long come to realize Christopher Van Numen was a wall. An impenetrable, indestructible wall of unstoppable power, directed to whatever captured his fancy. He would not help the Chosen Children. He would not bring Daisuke to Veemon. He was merely an unfeeling machine, one that yearned for nothing but its own selfish desires.

"I'm not asking what he might do. I'm asking what **you** _want_ to do."

A tiny part of him still believed the man was still human. A tiny part that reminded the Chosen of the compact sword sitting inside his baldric, waiting to be whipped out in all its terrifying glory. His dialogue with Hikari gave it strength, allowing its owner to perceive its existence and acknowledge it.

Acknowledge it Veemon did, right before squishing the thing beneath the might of his willpower and sweeping the mutilated corpse into a bin.

It wasn't because he despised it...

Veemon shook his head and sighed. That particular sigh known only to those who were at odds with the circumstances, to those who wished they had the time to procrastinate to infinity. Without releasing a single word in reply, the gesture produced a similar movement in his captor, whose grip then relaxed and set him free.

…but it was because he didn't want to think about it…

All he wanted at this point was a distraction. Something to keep his mind off the betrayal, lest he start believing Daisuke Motomiya would pull off the same trick himself, or at least tell himself what his human brother did was unforgivable, its damage immutable.

…and because he was uncertain.

Uncertain of himself. Uncertain of how he would feel towards either of them. If Daisuke had ever grasped what he had done to his digimon partner, the Child of Miracles would surely break down and grovel before him, reciting one apology after another.

Hikari Yagami saw through Veemon's excuses but he didn't care. As far as she was concerned, none of this was her business. There was no need for her—no, the woman had **no right **to intervene! She was—she was a third party to his conflict with Christopher, to his feelings about his long-sought reunion with Daisuke. Veemon crawled away from the Child of Light as fast as he could, inching past Tailmon's form.

The feline placed a hand on his shoulder. Her blue eyes met his, and as they left Hikari behind one request fell out her snout. "Don't take it against her," his fellow Chosen advised. "She's only concerned."

A light growl escaped Veemon. "She's _not_ my mom."

"That's just how she is," Tailmon hissed, defending her partner. "You know that." Her ears wilted. "She even treated Agumon and Patamon that way, too…"

"I never forgot that! It's just—everything she was saying made me feel like—

"Like?"

"L-like—like she was peering right **through** me a-and, and _shoved _everything I'm putting off RIGHT, TO, MY, FACE, and—

"I heard it all, you know."

"Y, you did?"

"…I'm a _cat_, Veemon."

"Oh—right. Sharp hearing and stuff." A frustrated groan. "Ugh, **you're** grilling me next?"

"Nope."

"_Whew_. Thank the four gods!"

"I know how it feels when you're too indecisive about something; you refuse to think about it until it's in your face and you can't afford ignoring it."

"And that's how I'm feeling right now!"

"Hikari and I can _both_ see that. But word of advice: you _at least_ have to sort yourself out before it even happens. Look, if you can't throw it into some imaginary bin anymore, there's no telling what you'll do!"

"HA! If it's anything concerning _him_, I bet he'll kill me before I could do anything."

"What if he **doesn't**? I don't know how _that man_ thinks, and neither do you! He fooled you for a week, didn't he?"

"Y, yes! A-and—a, a-a-and, well, I, uhh, I'm _really_ sure that won't be happeni—

"How do you know that?"

"Tailmooooon..."

"And you just proved my point."

"Meeeeh."

"You don't need to answer me. Just promise me one thing, Veemon. **One thing.**"

"What?"

"That whatever you choose, you'll do it _knowingly_."

"I, I don't know—

"Veemon."

"Why do you two care so much about this? Shouldn't we be focusing on Taichi? On what we'll be up against? On our battle plan?"

"We don't even know where this tunnel's going! We can't have a battle plan if everything's based on _speculation_."

Veemon stopped and gazed back. "Please, _please _don't change the subject." His head tilted. "Why is your partner—why are you TWO worrying over my stance on Christopher?"

Behind the bright blast of light continuously shooting out Hikari's iPhone, for a second Tailmon held an expression he couldn't read. It disappeared quickly as her muzzle offered a prompt rebuttal. "Because we think—no, we **know** _that man_'s dangerous."

He rolled his eyes. "_Duh_, Tailmon. I know what he's capable of—

"Not _that_ kind of dangerous." Veemon became inquisitive; as soon as his mouth moved she interrupted him before words went out. "Think about it. You remember what he talked about last night."

Thinking about that meeting did not supply the Chosen with wonderful memories. Thinking about it evoked gloomy thoughts. It conjured the illustration of a bubble that inflated and inflated until it bulged so much, life itself—or some mean and callous representative of it—decided to walk over and burst it, causing a tremendous, mind-blowing _pop_ that, until now, still left Veemon hanging.

The dragon exhaled deeply, shuddering at the memory. "_Yes_." Oh he was _boiling _inside. His anguish was no less painful than it had been then. Not even the parting gift diluted it. "I remember."

"The nature of æther? The threat of humans advancing thousands of years in less than ten?" Tailmon blew a scoff. It was the kind of scoff fueled by disbelief, its speaker so flabbergasted and so overwhelmed there was no appropriate description, no words capable of illustrating this conundrum. "_Shit_, dealing with all that's too much for us. WAY over our heads."

The Digimon of Light urged him forward in the midst of his gauche agreement. "Yeah, I guess it is…"

"That's _why_ he's dangerous. That's **why** he can't stay involved. Even if by some miracle _that man_ gets Daisuke back for you and becomes our champion, the Chosen Ch—the Digidestined can't afford those risks."

"Okay," he mumbled. "Makes sense." His remark was obviously detached. However valid her reasons were, Veemon wasn't ruminating on them. It didn't matter if Tailmon also apprised him of Hikari's nightmares—of the foreshadowed conclusion to the war between men and monsters. It wouldn't have stopped the Chosen's mind from dwelling on those memories from the tour and the motel not to mention the compressed spatha now in his possession.

And even if he _did_ reflect on them, Veemon's upbringing under Daisuke had long influenced his moral compass. The Digimon of Miracles could never justify the means by their ends. He was not utilitarian. He was a fundamentalist, for there was no way he'd commit reprehensible sins or forsake individuals, whether it _was_ for the greater good of the greater number.

Dismiss Chris because of those risks? Even if it meant giving up a sure shot at getting Daisuke back? Relinquishing the guarantee of winning this lopsided war?

All because his very existence—his _presence_ held undefined influence on this war?

That was wrong. That was _just_ wrong! Decisions shouldn't be made so callously. They should be made **with respect** **to** the persons involved, considering their rights—their rational capacity—their potential for change—**their fundamental stance **towards the world, any and all.

Thankfully, the Harmonious Ones must have been feeling merciful. The clouds of uncertainty underscoring the dilemma of the extraneous outsider that was Christopher Van Numen were swept back when Veemon's scarlet eyes caught a faint—very faint—glow at the far end, perhaps fifty meters away where the cramped passage turned left and descended steeper.

_We're here_, the blue dragon noted, his sluggish movements becoming faster, his eyes focused more and more on the light at the end of the tunnel. How long his struggles took passed his mind without a second's consideration. Neither did he care about the number of times he bumped his head in his haste, slipped on the stone and cut his cerulean arms on a jagged edge.

All he could care about was getting there. The passage dipped down and lurched up, but none of that deterred him from keeping his eyes on the faint sliver of light. He made it to his destination in the end, realizing, at some point, his fellow Chosen had switched off Hikari's smartphone, not to mention the dull throbbing of his head and arms from hitting the rocks a few times too many in his haste.

He chuckled to himself. _That's what I get for being in a hurry. _

Tailmon wasn't kidding when she said it was a dead-end. The passageway turned left and went downwards for a few more meters until it expanded to a small chamber. A couple of feet tall: high enough for Veemon to walk on all fours like a dog. Its sole source of light was a low-power bulb that dispensed an unmistakably tungsten glow, installed opposite the gaping hole at the very end.

By his account it wasn't that much wider than the path, but neither was it as claustrophobic. Veemon trotted to the manhole and peered down, his crimson pools glimpsing nothing but absolute darkness. His wild, childish imagination wanted to pretend this was a bottomless pit leading to the bowels of the earth, or to the nadir of hell itself. But his mature and adult self overpowered this immature outlook, and he too was filled with the foreboding that had clutched Tailmon on her first visit to this dusty place.

"So what do you think?"

Veemon watched Tailmon lean back, setting Hikari's iPhone down as she sat on her haunches. "Any ideas on where it leads?"

The dragon's stare returned to the hole. He took a minute to think, after which he sauntered to the edge without feeling the least bit embarrassed for walking like a mindless canine in front of his best friend. "First, let's check how deep it is."

Tailmon coughed. "Right. But how do you plan on doing that?"

The Digimon of Miracles did not respond. Or rather, his reply was not a statement, but an action. Veemon reared his head back. His muzzle parted as wide as it could, tongue stretching along the curvature of his jaw, stiffening as Veemon made what Tailmon probably thought was the most disgusting and revolting sound he had ever made in front of her. "Vvvvwaaarrr—

Minutes later the Digimon of Light would comment how the sounds emanating from his throat were so rough and raspy they reminded her of four tires screeching in a night of silence and tranquility. The cacophonous racket jarred the calm air—this _goddamn_ din was incredibly dissonant, and the feline found herself wondering why Veemon was drawing out this repulsive warble.

"—rrrrgurgurgurkuh—

Tailmon also admitted she was teetering on the brink of slapping some sense into the blue dragon when he suddenly stopped, lurched forward, and ejected the largest loogie she had _ever_ seen anyone hawk. "—PTUH!" Seeing his own expectoration moments before the darkness swallowed it sent feelings of pride coursing through his body. Boy, Daisuke would've been proud to glimpse that!

"**EWW**, Veemon!" she chided, aghast. "What in the Four Gods _compelled_ you to—

"Ssshh!" He raised a finger to his muzzle, gesturing her to shut up and stay quiet while he leaned _dangerously_ closer to the hole, one hand cupping an ear. "Three, four, five…"

Veemon tuned out Tailmon's impatient tapping and focused every ounce of attention on the gaping hole. "Nine, ten, eleven…"

This was taking too long. _Wow, just how deep __**is**__ this thing?_ "Thirteen."

"Fourteen." Thinking of the person that constructed this amazed him. The hole went _straight_ down, and the glob of spit did not touch anything during its descent.

It must've been difficult—not to mention **time-consuming**—for the Digidestined's informant to make this steep drop. "Fifteen." The sides of the hole looked like the entire passage had been carved right out of the bedrock, a feat that seemed achievable in _years_, not in the months between the DSI's rise to power and this path's disclosure. "Sixteen." What tools were employed then? How did one person accomplish—

_SPLAT._

Veemon's loogie met solid ground on seventeen. Anyone who's dabbled in Physics may have realized his globule of saliva had traveled—at most, ignoring air resistance—a staggering 1,418 meters. **Almost one kilometer and a half**. The spitter may not have had Koushirou's mathematical gift, but the sharp intuition intrinsic to him and his surrogate brother screamed the three of them were in for one, grueling climb.

The Digimon of Miracles let out a shrill whistle. He was actually impressed. "Well," he managed to say, "I wouldn't want to fall down **that** hole."

"Where did you learn that?"

"Huh?"

Tailmon's eyes were dilated, wide and bursting. As much as she was thoroughly disgusted by this… "talent", it nonetheless caught the white cat off-guard. "I've _never_ seen you hawk spit like that! Daisuke doesn't even—

Veemon sheepishly scratched his head, blushing at her amazement. "Uhhhhhhhhm, do you, err, remember the time Daisuke's family went to Beijing?"

"For that Great Wall marathon, right? You showed me the photos."

He gave a rather shameful laugh. "Ehehe, you can say I learned by example."

"And here I thought Daisuke was _such _a bad influence." She smirked. "Like I'd **ever** forget that dumb thing you and Patamon did thanks to him."

His blush strengthened. "Agh! Don't remind me! Takeru—

"And Hikari."

"—couldn't _look_ at me for **two** **weeks**! He even picked a fight with Daisuke _just_ to get back at him!"

"And stop the man from _corrupting_ your wonderful, innocent mind."

"HEY! Don't talk about Daisuke like that!"

"He _was_ never the best role model for you, I've told you that."

"Still, Tailmon, Daisuke's my partner. My bro! B.I. or not, I love him."

"Of course you do." She said with a smile. Business mode soon kicked in and Veemon found her pointing at the bottomless pit. "So what now? Should we wait for Hikari to get here or—

"Let's descend." Veemon was already in the midst of sweeping his feet along the walls, searching for the stone ladder.

"Hold on!" Tailmon skipped to the edge. "We need to _think_ about this! We've no idea what's down there and—

Then the dragon's foot lost its grip. His balance gone, the Chosen plunged downward. "WHOAHOHO**HOAAAAA**!"

"VEEMON!"

Luckily for him, he caught a handhold seconds before gravity managed to accelerate his body to irreducible velocities. Ignoring the cat's cries, he shifted and felt along the wall until his three other limbs were all accounted for. Only then did he glance up (feeling slightly guilty for the pitiful expression on Tailmon's snout). "No worries, I'm okay!"

"You scared me."

"Sorry. It's a little hard to get a grip on the steps. This isn't _even_ a ladder. It's just like those notches you and Renamon punched in the sewers." Except they weren't as deep, and they weren't as wide. Veemon sent a prayer of thanks to the Harmonious Ones—at least these notches weren't slippery and caked in moss.

Tailmon mumbled to herself, but from Veemon's position, everything she said echoed down on him with full clarity and volume. "At least we know something…"

"C'mon, Tailmon!" he beckoned. "Go with me! This way, when Hikari gets here, we're _done_ scouting!"

Veemon watched Hikari's partner send one last gaze behind her. Heaving a sigh. "I can't just leave you alone, can't I?"

The swaying blue tail highlighted his lighthearted chuckle. "Nope, you can't."

.

.

.

_What will they find at the bottom? To be continued in the second half of _"Cruel Intentions"_._

* * *

**Post-chapter author's notes:**

[4] Part 2 of _Cruel Intentions_ is, as of this chapter's posting, about 10,000 words long. There are just two story segments left for it, and I'm getting excited to finish it so I can proceed with the battle scenes. I've planned waaaaaay too much for it so I can't wait to start.

[5] There's plenty of foreshadowing and world-building over the course of _Cruel Intentions_, and part 2 contains something **very** interesting for those who are curious about the events during the ten years between _Zero Two_'s 50th episode and _The Interloper_.

[6] The "Great Wall Marathon" mentioned in the last story segment is a reference to my own trip to China two months ago (I went on that marathon too, lol!), as well as an observation I've made about the Chinese people. ^^


	25. Cruel Intentions (Part II)

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] The second half of _Cruel Intentions_ is estimated to be **17,870** words long, at least according to MS Word. Once again, I apologize for the length.

[2] Readers may notice I changed the maturity rating of _The Interloper_ from "T" to "M". Why? It's very simple. I've been rereading some of my chapters in the second arc, and the clarity of violence and gore in such chapters necessitates an M rating.

Furthermore, this deconstructive epic is inundated with controversial subjects, such as prejudice and discrimination, and capitalist exploitation. After all, this fanfiction explores the _Digimon_ franchise in the context of Real Life consequences. It is not meant to be idealistic. It is not meant to be that sort of story that invokes warmth and happiness in your heart.

Of course, it's pointless for me to say this here. After all, this is the 25th chapter. You _should_ have been long aware of this. Otherwise, well… you deserve having Veemon walk over to you and blow a mean raspberry in your face.

Or being rick-rolled.

[3] Please be warned that a particular story segment involving Hikari and Veemon may come across as OOC. I've had **Lord Pata** and other writers check this. They may have given their thumbs up, but I am skeptical. Your feedback will be much appreciated.

[4] A BGM that is appropriate for this chapter would be _Breath of Fire: Dragon Quarter_'s "Biotech Public Corporation". ^_^ Read and enjoy.

* * *

The path down was more treacherous than either of them thought. The weak, but constant rise of air—_hot_ air, apparently—affected the rocks lining the unnaturally smooth wall, and on several occasions Tailmon heard Veemon right beneath her nearly lose his grip, each instance punctuated by a surprised yelp, disturbing noises, and a subsequent sigh of relief.

Her cerulean eyes gazed upward. Tailmon couldn't help but notice the sheer distance they have traversed in such a short time. The circumference of the manhole's opening was as now so small a mere paw was enough to block it from sight, being the size of Veemon's palm. She hoped Hikari was still back in that tunnel, making her way slowly to that cramped barely-lit space.

The Digimon of Light allowed regret to roost within her for moments. From one perspective of this equation, her conscience scolded the cat, urging her to turn back. She was straying too far away from her human half, following this stupid dragon into darkness. The two of them had no light source for this descent. Tailmon had been considerate enough to leave Hikari's iPhone in that chamber, leaving a note explaining their absence.

But even if she had the device on her, with both paws now occupied by the crude ladder, there was no method available for her to carry the phone in anywhere else but her mouth. She'd have it stuck right between her jaws, growing moist from a drooling mouth and unable to activate the flashlight app and wield it with efficiency, even if she wanted to.

Although she found her companion's method of measuring the height of this godforsaken cylinder—_Gods_, did her tail just brush a **spiderweb**?—a bit too gross and juvenile for her tastes, she couldn't deny its efficacy. Seventeen seconds for a globule of saliva to hit solid ground _with an echo_ was informative of the ordeal ahead, but never had she thought it to be **this** nerve-wracking.

Surrounded by fading light and an increasingly unbearable heat, coupled with an unsafe and uneven makeshift "ladder" and the incessant repetitions of Veemon's near-death accidents, there was nothing Tailmon could do but hope for the best. Her stare fell down while she, with a little difficulty, stuck her foot into the next notch. She couldn't see Veemon at all, despite the light coming in from above. They were **that** far now.

"Veemon, are you still there?"

"Yeah," he cheeped, voice floating directly to her twitching ears. The Chosen was still close. All was well.

"How are you?"

"A little tired. You?"

"Same."

"Think Hikari can take this?"

The dragon snorted, finding amusement at the mention of her name.

"What?"

"Err, shouldn't you worry about yourself a little more?"

"Why?"

"Someone's gotta go back up and fetch her, right?"

"And that 'someone' won't be you."

He giggled. "Obvious much? I'm not her—

"You and your big mouth."

"Just stating the facts, Tailmon."

The Digimon of Light groaned. _Now_ she regretted following Veemon down this damn trap. The opening kept shrinking and shrinking, and every time it did, the cat winced from the thought of going up again just to descend this bottomless pit.

Why _did_ she go down with Veemon anyway? What compelled her to follow his lead, rather than acting with intelligence and stopping him before his descent attracted trouble?

Why wasn't she doing anything **now**? All this time, the white cat held in her possession the opportunity to pass the dragon with ease. She'd drop down the hole past him, slam her arm into the smooth bedrock, and when her fall comes to a conclusion, she would force the Digimon of Miracles up until they were back in that chamber, safe, sound, and with ample time to mentally prepare themselves for whatever waited for them down there.

Instead, Tailmon chose to act like a mother who hesitated to set her child loose into the real world, into the realm of monsters masquerading as friends and comrades, their malicious and shameful intentions concealed from but the most perceptive eyes.

Instead, Tailmon abdicated her duty to keep Veemon safe and keep a watchful eye for her partner, lagging behind with no source of light save for her D-Terminal, if she even bothered to use it.

And for what?

For curiosity?

For that _tickling_, nagging desire to scout ahead? A yearning she couldn't banish from her thoughts, entrenching its influence to the extent the feline was impelled to act on impulse, imprinting upon her the same questions that proliferated Veemon's head not too long ago.

Her brain drank this soup of inquiries with the thirst of someone deprived of water for _days_. But even then its thirst remained unquenched, for the questions multiplied as the two of them climbed down, going deeper and _deeper_ into the belly of the beast.

Tailmon felt it.

Her body sensed the rising temperatures. Her fur swayed, their movements so fine and almost fully unnoticeable it had taken another minute of climbing before the Digimon of Light detected the weak air flow rising from the bottom of the shaft and—she had to concentrate hard for this—**really **hard—the faint whirring of what she knew were electric fans.

Large electric fans revolving at speeds fast enough to cleave an Adult's body in two.

At that moment it struck.

An inscrutable feeling seeped into the air much in the same way _that man_ educed strangeness and incongruity into existence. Foreboding crept into this dead airspace, accompanied by an unmistakable **familiarity**.

No, she corrected herself.

It was **nostalgia**.

The air, the very rocks surrounding them adopted some unnatural, otherworldly aura without warning. It dominated everything around Tailmon, and her body tingled from sensing the digital particles pervading this place. Even her tail went rigid, though she guessed it was caused by the fact she hadn't been to the Digital World _in years_.

Fear began taking root.

Had they somehow entered some portal, hidden kilometers underground? Had she and Veemon breached a wormhole into the Digital World—into _their_ plane of existence, without so much as activating a digiport?

Fear slithered up Tailmon's spine.

She wanted to believe it so badly, that she was back home, that she was once again in her place of origin. She, the prodigal citizen, whose duty and love for her human half and her destiny as a Chosen led her to choose a world she could never claim to be her own.

The rational side of her mind ignored such naïve thoughts, discarding them like refuse before unceremoniously reminding her she was still in the Real World. There was something off about the environment, almost as though it was having trouble with the choice to be digital or not, to subscribe to Earth's laws of physics or to the parallel world's instead.

Tailmon told herself she was meters beneath the streets of Shinjuku, willingly and knowingly moving down this shaft like t was the rigid and lifeless esophagus of a lumbering behemoth.

She couldn't help but let the fright take her. Why were digital particles _permeating_ this place?

It baffled her. It left her dumbstruck. "Hey," she murmured, hoping he'd have an idea of what, by the Harmonious Ones, was going on in this damnshaft. "Did you notice?"

"Notice what, Tailmon?"

"It's everywhere." The cadence in his response told her he didn't sense a thing. Figures. The blue dragon was probably more concerned with keeping a solid grip while carefully moving down from one hole to another, some notches awkwardly placed. "Everything around us feels _different_. Foreign. It's like—

"Like we're not in the Real World anymore?" Veemon finished for her.

Tailmon did not reply at once, a bit too surprised by the fact he completed her sentence. A strange coincidence, perhaps. "Yes."

"I felt it too." The ominous tone in his voice vanished when he chuckled a bit. "You forgot I'm the _idiot_ who went first, huh?"

"Idiot? I—_Excuse me,_ but I **never**—

Another laugh interrupted her. A childish one. Veemon had just messed with her and Tailmon took the bait unwittingly. "Your face said it all. Right before _you_followed me down here."

The Digimon of Light felt exasperation color her cheeks. "I needed to keep an eye on you." She was not about to tell him there were times even _Patamon_ fretted for the blithe, happy-go-lucky nature that characterized many of Veemon's actions and colored his views, recent and past.

In retrospect, the hamster may have been right to worry.

"I had to go down," replied Veemon. "It's been bugging me ever since you mentioned it back there." In that nerve-wracking crawlspace. "Where all this leads."

"I don't like this. Digital particles in the Real World." She tried to expel her nervousness with a deep breath.

It didn't work. "I don't like this at all."

"We're not in a Digital Field, are we?"

Tailmon tilted her chin, setting her eyes on the tiny opening above, so small it was a little larger than a ¥1000 coin. Her fear transformed into a terrified unease, for the words coming out of her muzzle would never make sense. "No. Everything's all clear. No fog at all."

"Mmmmmmmmm," Veemon hummed. "Darn, and that's the _only_ thing I could think of."

The blue dragon had taken the words straight from her thoughts. Likewise, a Digital Field was the only thing her brain could think of. A temporary construct, yet an abomination in itself, for it was a zone of the in-between, much like the world of dreams and the realm of the Dark Ocean.

Yet that was exactly what a Digital Field was. **Temporary**. Transient. A scrambled mess of digital particles hastily translating themselves into chemicals and molecules subdued by the laws of Physics.

This wasn't a Digital Field. There was no fog. The air around them was a display of _stability_ rather than its antonym. Her tail went rigid, and sweat doused the pads of her paws as she reeled from the implications.

Implications that were each more horrific than the last.

One decade was all it took for humanity to subdue the physics of a parallel reality and manufacture the technology that could harness it. Stabilized digital particles, the law of translation effectively contained by some external power. Once upon a time, restricted to a duopoly between the D3 and the digiport. Now, made common by innovation.

"They call it _Digital Modification_," the betrayer's voice reverberated within. He may not have been there with them physically, but the mere memory of _that man_'s words stirred hostile thoughts within the cat. Even as they reminded her of a weapon that would benefit immensely from a Real World outfitted with digital particles. "It works through devices that augment the natural environment, including themselves."

"I've been meaning to ask you," Tailmon sprang from this momentary recollection. She paused a bit, letting Veemon's attention accumulate on her. "About those soldiers with digivices, those—those _Modifiers_."

"Yah? What about 'em?" The nature of his question was clear in expressing apprehension. Tailmon's timing was uncanny.

"How do they fight?"

"Hard. **Very **hard. Most of the time, it's like fighting Lighdramon and Fladramon put together."

That wasn't so bad. Probably something Nefertimon or Tailmon herself could handle. "And the _rest_ of it?"

Silence ensued. The kind of silence that preceded something no one would **ever** want to hear.

She verbalized her question once again.

"You're not gonna like it."

"Just tell me." If not Nefertimon, then _Angewomon_ could take everything else. An angel at the Perfect level was not something the Modifiers could afford to take lightly. Tailmon was confident of—

Veemon pricked the bubble forming in her thoughts. "Add ExVeemon **AND** Paildramon to the mix."

"No." The Digimon of Light gasped. "You've _got _to be—"

"Do I _sound_ like I'm joking?"

The somber retort rendered Tailmon mute. Possessing the abilities of _all_ _four_ was enough to put Angewomon through an arduous, gruesome fight to the death. But with such power distributed among a _number_ of hardened vanguards, not even a Perfect-level as powerful as she would last long under a full assault.

"Harmonious Ones help us."

Tailmon had intended it to be a quiet murmur of disbelief, but on articulation it echoed around her and Daisuke's partner, transporting what could only be dread. "No _kidding_," Veemon reacted. "Odds aren't good but—but we'll—we'll manage."

"Veemon…" Tailmon pitied him. She didn't want to burst his bubble.

"We'll get through it. Someway, somehow, like we _always_ do."

Veemon still believed the Chosen Children would win and curb-stomp the Digital Suppression Initiative into dissolution. Just how naïve was he being, thinking all it took to win this war was perseverance and determination alone? His snout lingered above the clouds, stuck in the past, trapped in some idyllic "adventure" that never ended, that always held its punches no matter how cruel and merciless were their adversaries' schemes.

Tailmon didn't know if this was a deliberate choice in his part, or a psychological defense to the affront and duplicity he encountered in the two—three days he'd spent so far in the Real World. Was he hoping against hope, wishing for some miracle that would come to pass? Or was her fellow Chosen slowly—_reluctantly_ embracing reality?

It must have been hard going through all this without his partner standing by him. Facing the possibility of death in the absence of someone who should have put him first.

Should this mission end in grim failure, Tailmon would have her human half to fall with. Acting alone on his own accord, a tragedy tonight would forever deny Veemon the right to even a loyal companion, let alone his surrogate brother.

Even Patamon had the luxury of being with Takeru at their sudden end.

Tailmon wanted to damn Daisuke for what he did. As a digimon partner herself, all her sentiments towards the Child of Miracles wished to denounce his decision to abandon Veemon in the Digital World and desert him, leaving him to his own devices. Even then, she couldn't do any of that. Not when she knew how _broken _Daisuke Motomiya had become over the few years that followed the Shinjuku March. Not when she witnessed firsthand the full gamut of his devotion, focusing every waking day on his duty as a Chosen Child, bearing all the risks himself rather than letting his precious partner endure the dark side of humanity.

She pushed those depressing thoughts away. "For starters," quipped the Digimon of Light, "this better not lead us to a room full of Modifiers."

"Same here," Veemon concurred. "Well, we'll find out when we hit"—_Schwup._—"bottom."

Solid ground at last.

Sadly for the "idiot who went first", the giant glob of spit Veemon coughed up to measure the shaft's height had yet to dry. Its viscous texture must've been disgustingly gooey, judging from his irritated whine. "Awww, that's just _great_."

Tailmon snickered. She couldn't help it. "Look on the bright side Veemon. At least it wasn't _my_ foot."

"Whatever." His foot slithered across the wall, sweeping for the next path and removing the filth. "There's another crawlspace here. Roughly your height."

Stepping on the sticky bedrock, "Where?"

"Oh hey! I see light!"

Hikari's partner rotated towards the direction of Veemon's voice and, to her delight, glimpsed light at the end of the tunnel. A crimson hue stained the path ahead, and Tailmon's night-vision was strong enough to see it was carved straight out of the rock, intercepting what no one could confuse with anything else _other_ than a ventilation shaft.

A ventilation shaft filled to the brim with crisscrossing wires and—

"ACHOO!"

—and months' worth of dust.

Veemon turned to her. Though a silhouette, Tailmon discerned the dragon's adorable, carefree smirk. "Sooooooooooo, does this mean you're climbing up now?"

The cat blanched. "**What**."

"Hikari's still waiting up there."

"We're so _close_, Veemon. I am **not** going back until I know just where we are."

As an Adult digimon, and one raised by an intelligent antagonist to the Twelve at that, Tailmon was predisposed to strategy as Taichi Yagami was a natural at leadership and calculated risk. Before the three of them could start this mission, they first needed to get their bearings—secure the safety of their insertion and determine their objective's location.

None of this would be done if she let someone as _reckless_ and stubborn as Veemon run amuck on his own. There was simply too much "Daisuke" in him for her own liking and the risk he'd throw caution to the wind was higher than ever given his emotional investment in this suicide mission.

Besides, stealth was not Veemon's strong suit to begin with.

The ventilation shaft went in only one direction, and the hidden path brought them to its very rear, perhaps explaining how maintenance personnel never _did_ find this severe breach in security. Veemon, reduced to all fours, trotted ahead the way a young boy would, striking Tailmon as _too_ enthusiastic for the ordeal ahead.

A steel grate blocked the exit. Worse, their view of the chamber was obstructed by a metal bookshelf positioned _conveniently_ in front of it. The instant the image flew into her cerulean eyes Tailmon cringed. Getting rid of this final impediment was a gamble in itself.

Noise was the last thing needed during a mission centered on the principles of stealth and guile. Yet noise was the _only_ thing they had in disposal. As far as Tailmon knew, there were no alternatives. This was the sole entrance into the M&A Wing. Nothing else.

Maybe the whole charade **was** a trap. After all the efforts it must have taken to get in here, to even _build _the path, in the end infiltrators were faced with no recourse but to **announce** their insertion for all the DSI to investigate.

She eyed Veemon stop. His body wilted before the grate: a gesture of disappointment. Tailmon jogged after him, pushing those _annoying_, insulated wires away from her muzzle. The Digimon of Light glimpsed her fellow Chosen lifting his hands to clutch the grate and move it out of desperation.

Unnecessary desperation. "Veemon!" she fought her voice down. Tailmon, resigned to the certain outcome of alerting the entire base to their arrival, raised her arm with the aim of cutting the grate apart. "Step aside so I can slash—

A noticeable _pop_ burst the stifling quiet.

Tailmon stopped in her tracks. The anxiety and worry shining within her azure pools drained away, leaving room for astonishment to flow in. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. The grate hadn't been screwed over the opening. Veemon's impetuous dash for the exit spared the pair from officially entering the DSI's M&A Wing with a bang.

She wasn't alone in her disbelief. Her gaze caught the dragon's scarlet eyes gazing back at her. The digimon recognized the incredulity in that stare, and no words assuaged it. "…_Honestly_ didn't see that coming, Tailmon." The sheepish laughter that succeeded his comment wasn't enough.

This was just the beginning.

The ventilation—the _maintenance_ shaft (as it should be properly called) had brought the infiltrators to a _massive _room. Three levels partitioned the space, and at the topmost floor a solid-looking frame presented the way out. Tailmon stumbled as she walked out and leaned on the bookshelf that had blocked their view. The whirring noise was at its loudest here, permeating this place with the throbbing hums of a General Electric turbofan. The digimon wouldn't have been wrong either if she had said the same thing about the intensity and strength of the digital particles being stabilized here.

Just where were they?

"Hey, Tailmon, you might want to see this."

Veemon's muzzle was agape, pulled open not by a rictus, but by a cavernous awe. His crimson eyes darted about, absorbing the place as he decided to get a closer look. Tailmon couldn't help but do the same thing when she mustered the energy to move and stand next to him. "Wow."

"Wow" understated her feelings at this very second. No words could adequately describe the shock overwhelming Tailmon, rooting her to one spot, out in the open for any DSI personnel to see.

But that's exactly what astonished her: **there** **was nobody here**.

She was struck dumb not only by the absence of people _and _automated security features (like cameras), but also by the very objects that populated this three-level room.

Computers.

It was the motherlode. From top-down and bottom-up the _entire chamber_ was lined with thousands—no, _hundreds of thousands_ of processors working feverishly for ends the Harmonious Ones wouldn't even know. The bookshelf she was leaning on was actually a **cabinet**, probably containing a flabbergasting number of blade servers.

Many more cabinets lined every level, and the gadget-savvy side of the white cat nudged her with the strong possibility every cabinet, separate or built into the wall, were connected by high-speed fiber optics out of sight.

"Veemon, did you know…"

She didn't care about the digital particles saturating this space. She didn't care about the lack of security measures and the apparent safety of merely lingering here.

Tailmon's mind was retreating. It was running back to the Li household, rewinding time up to the point she and Hikari were preparing to leave. The Chosen Child disclosed to her feline sister critical information handed down from Janyu Li himself, advising the group to look out for a room "covered in mainframes top to bottom".

"That we're looking at…"

The Digimon of Light couldn't believe what she was saying. She held no faith in the hushed, awestruck syllables her mouth seemed to verbalize on its own, even in the face of irrefutable evidence. It seemed so surreal to be here. It seemed so unbelievably _stupid_ that this WAS too good to be true.

"The Digital Dive System?"

Yet it was true! They were there. They were staring at the engine of the nationwide firewall that had thwarted many an attempt to coordinate with the Chosen Children stranded in the Digital World or at the very least, seek allies or even shelter for refugees.

It didn't make sense to Tailmon. The Digital Dive System was the **crux** of the DSI's countermeasures against otherworldly invasions and local "terrorist activity". Defenses here should be **tighter** than the security detail assigned to _Japan's Prime Minister_. By now, soldiers equipped to destroy a Perfect-level should be dashing here to protect the Military and Administration Wing's most important asset whilst a blaring alarm alerted the entire facility to the two infiltrators.

They shouldn't have been able to get past that grate in the first place! Yet the screws were loose, the dust that had been gathering on them telltale signs of long, unaddressed neglect.

Even Veemon wasn't stupid. The blue dragon _gawked _at her. Instead of curling his lips into a cheerful and ecstatic rictus, the Child level _balked_and suspended his euphoria. "**REALLY**, Tailmon? I was just joking when I said that."

He couldn't believe his luck. Minutes ago he was _joking _about this, knowing full well the probabilities of being led to the Digital Dive System straight out at the very beginning were horrendously low. The scenario was no different from a pipe dream—from **the ****impossible**.

And still it happened. Veemon's childish and frivolous drivel had become reality. "Trust me, I'm more shocked than you are."

Shocked because this destroyed her perception of the DSI's penchant for security.

Shocked because Veemon lived up to his species' reputation as a potent magnet of luck.

Shocked because of the insinuations that could be gleaned from this very moment.

This was the Digital Dive System. The secret passage they had just taken was **literally** a backdoor into one of the key targets of the Digidestined. There were no guards rushing here. No alarms blared—personnel weren't notified of this breach. There were no cameras or any other form of security watching over the room.

All these invoked troubling questions in Tailmon's mind. If something as serious and as dangerous as this remained under the radar for **months**, then who was the informant? How did she keep this under wraps? Why didn't she contact the Digidestined again? Why sabotage the operations of her employer? What motivated her to expose the Digital Suppression Initiative to an attack capable of crippling their defenses for _the long run_?

Veemon cast his gaze on the solid, steel door at the third level of the DDS. It was most likely no less than a foot thick, and Tailmon was sure it would lead to that room with the cylindrical tube. At this point she shook her head. All those questions—all those mysteries could wait.

For now was the time to act.

She and the dragon operated on a common wavelength. "What now?" posed Veemon. "We blowing up the place, yes?"

"I'm _definitely_ going back to get Hikari." Tailmon scampered across the DDS, eyeing the ladders permitting access to the mezzanine and the top. Up to now, her body still swore this place was inside the Digital World, no matter how many times her rational mind disagrees.

So long as she felt the foreign sensations laying their claim on her feline body, Tailmon thought they were better off trashing them if they could help it. "You," the cat uttered, tapping Veemon's bare chest with one claw, "should check out why this place feels like it's in the Digital World and **shut it down** if you can."

Veemon nodded without question. "Gotcha." He removed a satchel of C4's from one of his baldric's pouches. The dragon set it down on the floor, right next to the maintenance shaft. "And while I do that, I'll look for weakpoints we can rig."

She smiled. "Perfect."

He smiled too. Seeing that made _her_ feel happier. Things were finally starting to look up. "Allllright! Mission start."

"Huh? What was _that _about?"

"Heehee, I, uh, uhm… I always wanted to say that."

Tailmon winced. Anyone who knew the dragon well enough to be a cherished friend of his would undoubtedly empathize with her position. She shook her head. "Veemon…"

* * *

Tonight had been _wonderful_.

Kurata Akihiro swaggered in the hallways of the Military and Administration Wing, his strides pompous and he dared to think, _triumphant_.

The underground facilities were patrolled religiously by multiple squads of six. Each warrior was raised under the guidance of Japan's Self-Defense Force and _then_ hardened by the DSI's rigorous training facility held either in-house or in coordination with other military forces in East Asia.

These toughened soldiers were armed with state-of-the-art FAL rifles and bulletproof vests coated with Lockheed's dispersion fluid. So alert were they to anything that could _possibly _be out of the ordinary, this duty to protect the greatest stronghold against the ravenous and barbaric self-conscious artificial intelligences often overrode the consensus among all who lived and breathed in this institution: that the hallowed corridors of the Digital Suppression Initiative could ever be trespassed and defiled by the Digidestined, by the Chosen Children, and by the Wild Ones they coddled.

The Head Scientist's pretentious march through the corridors was enough to garner these soldiers' attention. They raised their firearms at the sound of his steps and groaned in exasperation when they found the quivering figure of Doctor Akihiro, PhD., his hands and fingers moving rapidly in deliberation, unable to contain their owner's excitement for the next experiment.

Kurata's eyes locked with one of these patrolmen—a woman, after a second's reflection—and they were not surprised to see the salute she gave him, and the five more that followed.

Though everyone knew this walking computer was an R&D nerd, a trifling position compared to the generals and the managers operating the M&A Wing, the grapevine was ripe with gossip of his status as the Chairman's favorite. A competent foe to the power struggle spearheaded by Mitsuo Yamaki himself, he who brought Daisuke Motomiya into the DSI's fold and made possible various technologies that now support modern society.

The R&D nerd grinned and waved back without saying a single word, eyes returning their gaze to the corridors ahead. They failed to see the blush in the patrolman's cheeks; he _was _a bit dense in that department, admittedly, and he was not as intimate with such carnal desires as he was with his voracious thirst for knowledge. That had never been a problem for him, thankfully, as his aspirations often overwhelmed the caged animal within.

Tonight, Kurata was alone, unaccompanied by the gogglehead the Chairman trusted to safeguard one of his most previous assets. _A temporary arrangement_, the scientist reasoned to himself. His one-man security detail was busy in the Chairman's personal laboratory at the moment. _Being another science experiment, of course_.

Still there was no need to worry. Security was all over the place as usual, and on top of that, the nerd carried the standard-issue M9, tucked neatly underneath his lab coat.

The man approached the middle of the complex from the First Gate. Giving his golden Rolex a quick read, he noticed it was almost four in the morning. It had been five hours since Kurata left Aldo Kikuchi at the Ninth Gate. He caught himself yawning. "Guess my report will just have to wait 'til tomorrow," he spoke to no one in particular.

At this point he passed the hall leading to the Digital Dive System.

It was also at this point that he sneezed loudly, the sound reverberating as an echo that jarred the otherwise serene atmosphere.

"Huh," he grunted. Kurata Akihiro brought his haughty walk to a halt, turning his head towards the other corridor. A sharp intake of breath pursued this gesture, after which nothing happened. Yamaki's contender hummed. "That's odd. I could've sworn—ACHOO!"

A spray of saliva and mucus splintered the air no differently from the way shotgun pellets spread. He wiped his jaw on the sleeve of his lab coat, eyes set ablaze with suspicion. This was the first time he sneezed in this junction. That the Digital Dive System rested at the end of one corridor persuaded him not to write it off as coincidence.

While the Divine Assault was famous for his capture of the Child of Miracles and the fruits of his research on the intricacies of digital evolution, Doctor Kurata Akihiro made a name for himself through his participation in the controversial project authorized by the UN CSTD and overseen by the only man in modern history to have been declared the ambassador for the Digital World.

It was a project he led alongside Professor Samuel Oak, an esteemed biologist from Brown University and a man hailing from Pallet, a small town in Texas, USA. Though the United Nations sought to understand their digital brethren through this comprehensive study, this noble intention eventually sired insidious, geopolitical schemes.

Professor Oak was discovered to have connections to Al Qaeda, the Taliban, and other groups operating in the Middle East. As the charges of conspiracy and treason attested, the world-renowned biologist had leaked the fruits of their research and enabled enemies of the developed world to turn the tides of the War on Terror in their favor. Only after thousands and thousands of lives were lost did the Westerners developed drones and conscripted tamers to fight for their mother country.

This controversial study almost arraigned Kurata with the very same charges that destroyed Professor Oak's career and careened him into a life of depression that ended with suicide.

Thank Buddha the Japanese scientist had been the one to blow the whistle!

If there was ever a souvenir he had taken home from that botched project of the UN CSTD, it would be his maddening "allergy" to digital monsters of any form and level. Since its discontinuation, Akihiro Kurata would sneeze in the presence of a SCAI without fail, even if he had never been aware of it in the first place.

Behavioral experts had tagged it as a psychological defense. There was the question of its manifestation, for the scientist had been cognizant of the SCAI's existence and their plane of reality since their takeover of Odaiba in 1998. It was regrettable no psychologist has solved this mystery to date.

"ACHOO!"

Kurata's sleeve was damp with spit and dried phlegm. He sniffled, sauntering through the quiet corridor with caution. The sneezing was becoming more frequent as he closed in on the main chamber, a sign that tickled the scientist's beautiful mind until the weak _but_ distinct blasts of gunfire—four of them—reached his ears.

Only then did the Doctor grab the M9 from its holster, safety off and ready to fire at a moment's notice. He sneezed again. _Ugh_, he was _not_ one for stealth.

He didn't bother notifying any of the squads he passed. That last one obviously come from the DDS's main chamber and walked away with an air of safety and unconcern. Why call them in on a hunch arising from **an** **allergic reaction** of all causes? Kurata couldn't risk being humiliated in an embarrassing write-up, even if it had been filed by someone as lowly as an M&A stooge.

Kurata Akihiro's head slipped past the gaping entrance of the Digital Dive System. The main chamber was bare, devoid of scientists and technicians alike. To think he was here just yesterday, welcoming the survivors of the failed Midnight Assault!

As the man who watched over its construction, as the man who knew both rooms of the Digital Dive System like the back of his hand, he scrutinized the chamber as he walked in. Not a thing was touched. The glass cylinder that transported persons and small equipment to the Digital World, crystal clear. The steel door separating the main room from the mainframes, closed. The terminal used to operate the DDS, deactivated. The four security cameras on the ceiling, still watching over the room like a group of silent but vigilant sentinels—

An expletive flew out of Kurata's mouth when he noticed all four weren't in their places, instead scattered across the floor in pieces. _Someone_ had shot them, one by one. The Doctor glanced up, the ceiling gaping back at him from as high as forty feet. The accuracy was impressive; those cameras were small targets from that distance.

Whoever the intruder was, he definitely was a better shooter than the scientist, that's for sure. Dr. Akihiro sneezed again. "ACHOO!"

R&D's Head pondered over the implications, even as he approached the various aspects of the main chamber. He was sneezing as though a SCAI was hidden in this room. But how could that be? It was protocol for personnel to keep their pets with them at all times—in fact, the protocol didn't matter at all! The Japanese government mandated no SCAI must be separated from its lawful owner by any more than ten feet _without_ supervision.

This was a clear violation of the 2011 Proximity Law.

That the culprit was a SCAI owned by one of his subordinates grazed Kurata's thoughts, but he rejected it the instant it came to him. If that was the case, the cameras wouldn't have been disabled. Furthermore, at least one of the various patrol groups _should_ have been here within a minute of its ruin. "_Shit_. Is a Digidestined—

No! That's _impossible_! RIDICULOUS! A Digidestined, here? Infiltrating the M&A Wing? _Sabotaging_ the Digital Dive System, under the scrutiny of maximum security?

Taichi Yagami _invaded_ the perimeter topside the other night, and **he failed**. Someone with such a strong talent for strategy _succumbed_ to the defenses of the Digital Suppression Initiative, and they were undermanned at that! If the revered Chosen Child of Courage couldn't penetrate the DSI's security at its weakest, then how could another intruder bypass **everything** that stopped him without help and make it this far?

It couldn't be a double agent. The organization had mastered the art of weeding out infiltrators and sympathizers from its roster, hauling fresh recruits and non-combat personnel alike to the domestication facility at the deepest reaches of the R&D Wing to demonstrate their loyalty and passion to their philanthropic cause.

The scientist knew how provocative these demonstrations were, and not once during the short history of the Digital Suppression Initiative had he heard of a traitor who escaped the program unscathed and unsuspected.

Kurata slinked to the steel door behind the cylinder, eyeing the tiny window from afar. A slab of solid steel one foot thick, with a variation of Corning's Gorilla Glass ensuring airtight security: no weaknesses whatsoever. Secured by biometrics and an RFID card reader, only the Head Scientist, the Vice-Chairman and technicians approved by the Chairman were authorized to enter the three-level chamber behind it.

Even if the intruders somehow circumvented this seal, the Zone Emulator active within the second room enabled the use of an IFF system that blanketed all three levels. Like the hub that separated R&D personnel from any unlucky wanderer from the Sunrise Offices, the security system would identify anyone who entered its—

The door was **ajar**, held in place by a makeshift doorstop. Someone had _clearly _opened it from the inside. That was the _only _logical explanation for all this, yet it was also the most absurd. The most inconceivable.

He trotted towards the door, sneezing as his hands reached for the thick, steel panel. This turned out to be Kurata's greatest mistake.

Had Kurata walked around the cylinder instead, he would've found his intruder. A dragon of the brightest blue, armed with the very gun used to disable the cameras.

Had Kurata turned around at the instant the heavy footsteps reached his ears, he would've smacked the blue dragon and shot it in the chest before it could do a thing to him.

Occupied by disbelief, the creator of the Digital Dive System swung the door open and at that moment, felt something as hard as _rocks_ crash into his back. "Buddha!" Kurata shrieked, his cry muffled instantly by the concrete rails.

Then the door shut.

He was trapped.

"ACHOO!"

He was trapped with a SCAI.

The black orbs that were his eyes recovered quickly and though dazed, he sat up and raised his gun, only for his attacker to swat the firearm with its bare hands. It flew away from arm's reach and before the scientist could do anything else, the blue dragon leapt and slammed its foot on his face, obliterating his spectacles without so much as puncture wounds.

Its foot remained on his face, pinning him down. Those warm, soft pads **reeked**. A fetid combination of mayonnaise, dust, and sewage that weaved together in his nostrils. Kurata struggled to suppress the urge to vomit, lest he add gastric acid to this squalid mixture.

"Empty your pockets," the blue dragon commanded, indifferent to the scientist's discomfort. Pushing the animal off was out of the question—the SCAI was a Wild One, not to mention the _click_ of a gun forced to a halt all thoughts of grappling with the beast.

Kurata remained in place. Frozen by disbelief instead of fear. To be threatened at gunpoint in what was—what _should've been_ the safest place in the entire M&A Wing…

"Empty your pockets!" It fired the handgun, sending the bullet into the concrete next to his head. "C'mon!" No words were needed to say what came next.

R&D's Head Scientist found himself complying with the demand. The urge to fight back tickled his mind, but the desire to know, to _learn_ won his heart. His hands floated to his trousers, divesting it of his wallet and cellphone. "T-there," he stuttered, twisting his face so none of the filth covering the dragon's soiled foot slipped beneath his lips. His forehead scraped across those three toes, and Kurata cursed in silence as he felt the prickle of pain and the thin drops of blood oozing out the shallow cut.

Dr. Akihiro tossed the items to the side, expecting his captor to look and release him before he fainted from the overpowering smell. The gesture satisfied the animal, at least until its other foot slid across his lab coat and felt the two items he had hidden in its pouch. _Great._

Before anything else happened, the scene was interrupted by loud footsteps and a female voice accompanying it. "Veemon!" it called. "Veemon, what's going on?"

The blue dragon tilted its head to the left, and Kurata's own curiosity compelled the scientist to follow its scarlet gaze. He twitched at the sight of a grown woman running towards them, her clothes covered in earthen filth. At first, he figured it was the dragon's tamer, but as he stared at the curvature of her face, at her coquelicot pools, at the hazel locks flowing down the sides of her head, and at the green and yellow shirt she had for a crude scarf, beads of sweat began to form.

Why did she seem so familiar? Had the scientist seen her from somewhere?

The Head of R&D wanted answers. For the moment, he ignored the weight pinning him to the floor and disregarded the stench he inhaled with every breath while he sought the answer through the gigantic annals of knowledge comprising his own mind, only to stop when his eyes perceived the white cat that hounded her every step.

He recognized the woman. "Hi, Hikari… Yagami…!" The Chosen Child of Light, younger sister to the venerated leader of the Twelve.

What was she doing here? **HOW** did she get here? Had she been waiting in the second chamber all this time? Just what was their secret, breaking into the Digital Dive System without facing the security?

"Who's that, Veemon?" questioned the cat. Its voice was delicate and sweet, like that of a demure and charming woman. Kurata did not let that disarm him. The feline—Tailmon—was ridiculously powerful for a Champion-class SCAI of its size. A bioweapon with the strength and agility necessary to steamroll a group of tanks and soldiers without a single scratch.

"I don't know," it replied, gesturing at the steel door, "He walked in on me in the other room while I was trying to figure out the 'Digital World-ness' of this place." The creature scratched its head. "I don't know how he sensed me though. Shooting all the cameras must've made some noise, but I heard him coming waaaaaay before I even—

"ACHOO!"

Veemon's eyes scrunched in disgust. "Eeew," it said. "Now my foot's all icky!" It wiped all the spray on the scientist's own face, not caring whether doing so spread the muck it had been accumulating. "But y'see what I mean? Just like that! Kept sneezing and sneezing like he's got an allergy—

"G-get—MFFFFH—GET OFF MY FACE!"

"I will," replied the blue dragon. "Just take out the stuff in your coat and I'll get off."

"Tch—you _f*cking_ lizard! I'm not going, a, ah, AH"— The Veemon drew its foot drew away—" ACHOO!"

This time the damn lizard didn't pin him down again, but the reason behind its choice was clear. Kurata had been surrounded by the two SCAI, one of them bonded to a Chosen Child. A gun and a pair of claws were aimed at him, and Hikari gazed at him with eyes that were, too, clouded with that faint sense of recognition.

Unless Kurata wanted to disadvantage himself further, compliance was the only way out of this. The scientist tucked his hand inside the pocket and, after a second's hesitation, after staring into the three pairs of eyes ogling him with such ferocity they were prepared to strike if he brought out a firearm, Kurata unveiled the two items within his garments.

Two devices that should've never seen the light of day without authorization.

Especially not by any member of the Twelve for that matter.

Hikari Yagami gasped. "Digivices!"

"A Modifier!" Veemon was quick to act, slapping Kurata's hand with such force the machines fell to the side, lifeless and stoic. "Oh no you don't!" It yelled, as though the R&D nerd graduated from captive to a life-threatening hazard in the instant it laid eyes on the two digivices he clutched.

Kurata _blinked_. They knew about the Digital Modification program?

"You're from R&D, aren't you?" The Wild One reacted suddenly, its mannerisms turning livid, if not **feral**. A low, _bestial_ snarl rumbled from its throat, even as the dragon bared its carnivorous teeth, each spike as white as pearls and as sharp as daggers. "Answer me!" The SCAI seized his turtleneck's lapels and slammed the nerd into the concrete rail with such power even Kurata was astonished by the level of power. He was _not_dealing with an ordinary Rookie-class SCAI. "What've you done to Daisuke? **Where's my partner?**"

If Kurata Akihiro was composed throughout this ordeal, and if any of the DSI's information on the Wild Ones' emotional faculties were true, then the PhD holder should've—would have detected the other emotion hidden in its questions.

The despair.

The anger.

The sadness.

He might have realized sooner the aggressive Rookie was tethered to the Child of Miracles.

"H-ho-hold on!" stammered the scientist, suppressing his sneeze. "I—I'm not what you think I am!" He raised his hands and shook them rapidly, hoping the animals understood his conciliatory gestures. "Yes, I'm—I'm from R&D, but—b-b-but, I'm not in charge of di, Digital Modification—t, tha, that's," He stuttered, his voice nervous, his thoughts stifled. "That's **Yamaki's** turf," Dr. Akihiro stressed, "not mine! So if you've got anything to ask about it, I'm the **wrong** person to—

Tailmon strolled towards him, its paws reaching down for the two machines Veemon had scattered on the floor. "Then what are these?" At such a close range, its cerulean eyes must have had no trouble examining the devices. They absorbed their shape, perhaps comparing it to what their owner already knew of the Modifiers' equipment.

Digivices manufactured specifically for Digital Modification were sleek and thin. Inspired by Apple's iPod, a music player that overtook the world years before the other iDevices were even invented. The patented design minimized the moving parts, the components, each lacking the hardware that restricted the flow of energy used in manipulating digital particles during the process of evolution.

If these damnable creatures—if the _Digidestined_ were cognizant of Yamaki's project, then they would have already realized the stark difference between these devices and the fruits of the Vice-Chair's research. Although some parts of the design were lifted straight from the Divine Assault's blueprints, these digivices resembled electric razors more than anything else, or microphones perhaps. A V-shaped badge was prominent on the top edge, its cool yellow hue radiating a shine that reflected off Veemon's eponymous birthmark.

"You even have two of them," Tailmon observed, perhaps trying to descry the meanings behind the color codes. One was black, and the other was red.

The Head Scientist rebutted, "I, I can't—I, look, the team's been calling them Xros Loaders, but I honestly don't—

"Xros Loader?" repeated the Veemon, confused.

"I swear to you, I don't know anything else. I'm just the guy who analyzes stuff for the Chairman, so it's not like—ACHOO!"

"The Chairman?" Tailmon verbalized while he sniffled. Kurata Akihiro blanched. _Damn Freudian slips!_ "Hikari, this sounds big."

Veemon leaned back, its arms crossed as it stood over him, monitoring the scientist's movements as though he was greatest threat to their mission. A mission Kurata could already guess, considering Taichi Yagami was languishing in a cell near the Sixth Gate. How they managed to secure the intel was no stranger mystery to him than the very fact all three of them were there in the first place. The Child of Light sauntered closer. "Who are you?"

The nerd knew where he was cornered. There was nowhere else to run and hide. After ten seconds, "Doctor Kurata Akihiro, PhD," he introduced himself, unconsciously smiling as he did, feeling the strange pride engross him as it did every time he presented his name. "Head Scientist of Research and Development."

His captors went silent. The scene had become so quiet, not even the whirring sounds permeating the room concealed the escalating tension that accompanied the connections being made in their heads.

"You..." Hikari's coquelicot eyes narrowed. She clenched her fists, her words slithering past her gritted teeth. Every spirant soon emitted anger, each succeeding one more intense than the last. "Taichi told me about you."

The Child of Light raised her finger, pointing accusingly at him, her mordant statement transforming Akihiro Kurata from a man whose career rose from the legacy of Professor Oak's experiment like the mythical Phoenix, to an abomination that never should've existed, that heralded unparalleled agony and torment upon hundreds of families. Upon her family, her older brother, and the friends they shared.

"You're the one who made the Digital Dive System!"

* * *

Veemon couldn't believe his ears.

The science geek he subdued was **the** Kurata Akihiro?

The man who created the Digital Dive System?

The worldwide firewall that **stranded** four of the Twelve in the Digital World, besting Koushirou's attempts to penetrate its stalwart defense?

The very same barrier that **prevented** Daisuke Motomiya from ever contacting him, from living up to the promise they made?

The Digimon of Miracles quivered in his spot. He wanted to _kill_ this man for what he did. Because of him, Daisuke never came back! He never returned to the Digital World! Captured and _obviously _turned into some sick science experiment, as his surrogate brother began to accept the thoughts he never wanted to think, the assertions reinforced by his own kind.

Kurata Akihiro was **wholly and fully** **responsible** for the anguish and loneliness he had suffered from these past three years! He would've been guilty, too, of Veemon's fall into cynicism and doubt, had Christopher Van Numen not been there to uplift his dying morale.

He screamed like a madman, like a murderer who found his kill. "RAAAGGHHHHRRRR!" The digimon leapt from the wall and slammed his fist into the scientist's face, putting in so much might and power no man would ever survive such a blow.

By some miraculous fluke, survive the strike Kurata did. Veemon was unfazed; the blue dragon kept going, butting his head with the nerd's with the intent to destroy. To **obliterate**. The force of the strike was so strong the horn on his nose pierced the skin. "It's all because of you!" the Chosen shouted. "If it wasn't for you and your **STUPID** invention, I wouldn't have _questioned_ my own beliefs! I'd still have Daisuke. He wouldn't have been turned into the DSI's _plaything_. He couldn't have _completely_ abandoned me; he'd still be putting me first—

Tailmon rushed towards them. "STOP IT!"

"**AND** **I WOULDN'T BE ALONE RIGHT NOW!**"

Another blow would have struck Dr. Akihiro in the face had Tailmon been a second too late. The fist was brought to a halt at the last second, yet the damage had been dealt. Blood dripped from Veemon's fists, his own muzzle caked in the scientist's. His mouth was open wide, exhaling ragged breaths. Each one filled with righteous anger. "Veemon, don't!"

She backed down from his infuriated glare. "Don't _deny_ me this, Tailmon! He deserves it. I, I, I must—I **gotta** make him pay!"

The cat grunted. "Dammit, Veemon, calm down! Think about Daisuke! He wouldn't want you turning into, i-in, into—You're **BETTER** than this! He's just doing his job—I don't think Patamon would—

"Don't assume things about Patamon! He'd do the same thing in **my** place, I just know it!" He shrugged off his fellow Chosen's grasp and reared his head, jaws opening wide, aiming for the throbbing arteries in Kurata's neck. "And F.Y.I., Daisuke loves me so much, I'm sure he won't have a problem with **THIS**!"

Veemon plunged his teeth down, expecting the taste of fresh human blood seeping onto his tongue. He anticipated the ripping of the scientist's soft neck, as the Chosen yielded his very self to his rage, venting his grievances and sorrow in one movement that left the DSI's Head Scientist dead.

Veemon did not see the fist that struck his muzzle, the force of the blow launching him far from the Doctor's chest. Neither did Hikari nor Tailmon, for they were just as engrossed in the scene happening before them.

Kurata Akihiro sat up, his face bloodied and bruised yet nowhere near as damaged as the Digimon of Miracles hoped it was. "And this is why I _hate_ SCAI's!" He turned to the Chosen Child, who was so frozen she had no choice but to listen. "Why can't you see they're just **weapons**? They're dangerous to humans! You can't let these **animals** do whatever—

"We **aren't** animals, Dr. Akihiro," Tailmon ambled to him, her eyes locked with the R&D scientist. The cerulean orbs began glowing. Roseate light overwhelmed the natural hues of her irises, dominating her gaze and infusing it with the mental fortitude of a powerful psychic. _Cat's Eye_ was a hypnotic attack, best used to incapacitate, or at the very least, induce confusion. "You humans can't accept what's different. You're afraid of the unknown. You think you know everything, when you've got it all wrong.

"When you're looking at things from a limited point of view." It was strong as it was effective. If Child digimon were susceptible to its maximum potency, then for sure a mere human like Kurata Akihiro would surrender at a second's exposure.

What happened next caught her by surprise. "It's _you_ who don't understand," the scientist rebutted. His cadence emitted confidence. His posture, straight and composed. If Kurata felt strange—stunned to be speaking with a digimon on this level, he had hidden his emotions well. "_You're_ the ones who got it all wrong."

Tailmon frowned. Why wasn't _Cat's Eye_ working on him?

"I was in Odaiba when the ghosts took over, fourteen years ago. Those SCAI's never caught me, and I had the luck—the _privilege_ to watch that giant vampire die with my own eyes."

Hikari paled. Her face became an open book. Anyone who had an eye for detail would notice the apathetic gaze and her unconcerned bearing. She was recalling a memory that had faded over the decade. A memory that gradually cleared, concurrent with the transformation of her expression, which fast became a visage of horror as the gears of reminiscence stirred to life.

Beyond the circles of the first eight, Yukio Oikawa had not been the only one to elude Vamdemon's goons. Kurata had also escaped, and was rewarded by a firsthand account of everything that had transpired on that day in August.

The invasion of Phantomon and the Bakemon, spearheaded by the great vampire. His subsequent resurrection as VenomVamdemon, lashing out at Odaiba's cityscape until WereGarurumon and MetalGreymon showed the prophesied king his place.

Yukio Oikawa yielded to the corrupting influence of his envy that day, ogling the Chosen Children from the harbor as they rose to the skies. Kurata Akihiro, on the other hand, saw an all too different reality—a foreshadowing of the future. The scientist glimpsed a parallel plane of reality, knew personally the powers of mass destruction intrinsic to the beasts populating it, of whatever shape and form.

Dr. Akihiro, creator of the Digital Dive System, was as much a victim of Vamdemon as Hikari and Tailmon were, as **all** the Chosen Children were. Scarred by the villain's heartless methods, by the devil's dictatorial ambitions.

"Even the incident at Ginza, in 2002: I was there!" Kurata's condescending sneer widened. "I know what I saw, Ms. Yagami. SCAI invading our world, endangering lives, taking kids hostage, causing massive property damage—isn't it obvious? The ones you twelve bonded with merely represent the **minority**! All the other beasts were interested in _only_ themselves."

"T-that's not true—

"But it is!" He paused to suppress a sneeze. "Your _Golden Age_ lasted three years." Kurata's disdain underlined those two words. One reference to the past was all it took for him to knock down the Twelve's most triumphant, most glorious age from the pedestal they ascribed. "Collapsing under the weight of the world, and it all started with the Fourth of July—

"Quiet!" Hikari ogled the scientist. Tears cascaded her cheeks, her eyes shimmering with grief and regret. Memories of the past were flying inside her, revived by the mention of Vamdemon's invasion, of Demon's attack, of the decline of their Golden Age.

The Child of Light locked eyes with Veemon for a brief moment before she directed her gaze on Dr. Akihiro. In that instant the two of them made a connection. She understood why he was so enraged, why he gave in to his own anger. "Veemon's…" Hikari scowled. "Veemon's right. If it, if it wasn't for you, the Chosen Children would've never been scattered…"

They would've been a united group, still, facing villains who weren't megalomaniacs—who weren't heartless abominations seeking the apocalypse as though it was the sun. They'd stand tall against the deluded and the obstinate. Against the formless enemies that spawned the ills of modern society, that sterilized opportunities, that _denied_ the right to equality and withheld them from those who were truly their equals.

"…we wouldn't be in this situation now."

A situation so precarious they undertook a suicide mission.

A situation so desperate they were on the brink of _clinging to an outsider_ for hope.

"So what if we're in the minority? At least we have the **moral ground**! We know the **DIGIMON** for what they _really_ are. They're just _like us_, and it's inexcusable—**arrogant** to simply write them off!" Write them off as weapons, Hikari meant to say. Mindless beasts destined to carry humankind's burden.

Discrimination.

Intolerance.

Prejudice.

All three were unforgivable. Whether it incarnated as racism or _speciesism_, it was the same amorphous enemy that permeated and ensnared the majority of humankind under a viselike grip.

Akihiro Kurata had the opportunity to reverse his trail of thoughts. Since 1998, the man had fourteen years to ruminate over his stance, to actuate his philosophy—make his fundamental option.

The option had been made years ago, beginning with that paper he coauthored with the notorious Professor Oak under the United Nations. The research the Digital Suppression Initiative now toted to _justify_ the systematic exploitation and enslavement of digimon across the globe.

"The world's better off without people like you," Hikari murmured, her eyes narrowing.

R&D's head scientist did not change in all these years. Not once.

The woman's coquelicot gaze darkened. Her mouth barked the order to _kill_. Blinded she was on this moment by the very anger and sorrow molesting Veemon to this very day, even if she was in her right mind Hikari Yagami would've sought Kurata's death regardless. He was no different from the Dark Digimon. No different from the villains of her buried past.

He did not deserve any second chances. Not when he had every opportunity to reflect and ponder over the ethics and morality of his actions and their ramifications.

The Digimon of Miracles nodded in approval. To him, it was justice served. Justice long overdue.

The Digimon of Light stayed still. To her, it was the right choice, but it wasn't the most effective one.

"Hikari, this isn't the way to go about this!"

"Are you defending—

"No! I'm **not** defending this bigot!" The white cat shot the fiercest glare at Daisuke's partner. "And don't even **think** about moving, Veemon!" Azure spheres darted from one side to the other. From her best friend to her human half and back, passing the target on every pass. "You two, just _listen_ to me.

"I know how you both feel—I actually _agree_ with you, but if we do that _now, _we're going to lose our **BIGGEST ADVANTAGE**! The nerd's more valuable to us **alive**. We already have the C4's primed and ready to detonate, don't we? If we destroy the DDS and its _creator_ with it, who _happens_ to be R&D's figurehead and the Chairman's lackey—

A gunshot interrupted Tailmon's proposal.

She whipped her head to her left, her eyes discerning the SIG P239 clasped in Veemon's hands. Kurata's body hadn't dropped dead, and that was all the reassurance she needed to pounce on the Digimon of Miracles. Tailmon closed the ten-foot gap swiftly and pinned the dragon down. "I told you to cool it!"

"B-but—but, Tailmon—

"Weren't you listening?"

" Yes! And that's just _more_ reason for us to—

"Don't be so stubborn!" She hissed. "Can't you see he's **leverage**? He's our bargaining chip! We can use him to rescue Taichi and get away without going through _hell_. We might even **save** Daisuke this way!"

A blush colored his white muzzle. "I—I, I, I knew that." Veemon found himself at a loss for words. Embarrassed at not realizing it sooner.

"Guys?"

Seconds ago, Hikari's face had been contorted by an unspeakable anger, the product of all the stress accumulating since the beginning of this war, since things have gone south for her friends and allies, since she had met the architect of their problems. The very source of it all. The grand designer.

Now, her countenance had shed it all. Like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, Hikari's resentment was cast off. Unease emerged in its stead—an agitation Tailmon was intimate with since their first meeting fourteen years ago. No longer was the junior Yagami standing before them as a proud and resolute adult, for she had regressed into an eight-year-old whose discomposure was visible to the naked eye.

Veemon and Tailmon looked at each other in consternation. What just happened?

The Digimon of Miracles watched Hikari's digital half dash forward. She voiced a few syllables Veemon found vague, but apparently it was clear enough for the Chosen Child to raise her palm. "I'm okay, Tailmon, I'm okay." The woman shone her gaze on the scientist, who sat between them with legs calcified by what Veemon hoped was terror. "It's just—I, I think we should tie him up."

Veemon's muzzle wrinkled, baffled by her suggestion. "'Tie him up'?"

She nodded. "There's a maintenance closet on the second level. It's got some cables inside, maybe—

The blue dragon laughed. "No offense, Hikari, but why go through all the trouble?" Four strides closer to Kurata, "Much as I hate saying it, he's _only human_. It'll be faster if we just broke his legs."

Both Tailmon and Hikari recoiled. "Uhhhhm…"

"Whaaaat?" Veemon scratched his head. "What did I say?"

"Veemon, that idea's _brutal_," Tailmon rebutted, gulping down her tumult. Gazing sadly, "What… what got you so messed up?"

He pouted. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Hikari cleared her throat. "To answer your question…" She eyed Kurata nervously, like the plain human that he was suddenly developed the potential to kill the group right there. Veemon swore the lady seemed to be _examining _his injuries. "I don't know. It's—I think it's what Taichi calls a 'gut feeling'. Something's wrong here. Something's not adding up. Just look at him!"

The Chosen inspected the scientist.

"ACHOO!" His face was battered, beaten black-and-blue by the dragon's exaggerated pounding. A shallow scrape lined the side of Kurata's cheek, tracing the path his bullet had taken. Seeing it stirred annoyance within Veemon; the scientist was almost as lucky as he was. How else could he have survived a bullet aimed at the face, and from a distance so short it was no different from close up?

"Hikari, I don't really see anything different…"

"Trust me on this. I feel like something might happen if we actually try something on the Doctor."

"Well," Tailmon picked up both Xros Loaders from the floor. "What do we do with these?"

"Destroy them," both her partner and her best friend replied.

"That way," the latter piped, "nobody's gonna use them against us."

"And it'll definitely put a dent in the Chairman's plans," the former appended.

Kurata blanched. "_Destroy_ the Xros Loaders?" He became restless, thrashing in place in resignation to his hopelessness. "Oh Buddha, no! **Anything** but that!"

The Digimon of Light cocked an eyebrow.

"Spare them, _please_! _One unit_'s worth **trillions** of Yen in taxes! _Twice _as expensive as the Modifiers' crap! Plus they're so hard to make it'll set back my research for two weeks—OH NO! Don't! For the _love of Buddha, _y-you, you can't crush—you just hafta keep them inta—

Tailmon smashed the Xros Loaders until they were crushed completely into pieces. As powder, the debris gave the drab, concrete floor an ebony and scarlet glitter. She smirked. "I just did."

"AAARRRRGGGHHH!" The man had enough vigor to crawl to the feline and weep over the debris. "NO!" Glaring, "You **effing** PUSSY—SHIT!—you _ruined_ it all, you STUPID, LITTLE FUC—MMPPHHH!"

Tailmon clamped his cursing mouth. "Veemon, I suggest putting him at the bottom level, near the corner."

"Right by the bombs, huh?" The dragon clutched Kurata's lab coat.

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll go get the cables. Hikari, you stay here and watch the door."

Veemon slid his arm behind Kurata and hoisted him up without much effort, heaving the man as though he was a cardboard box filled to the brim with proprietary paraphernalia. The Digimon of Miracles grunted, finding the scientist a little _too_ heavy for someone of his build. He managed it anyway—the dragon seemed a little scrawny from first glance, but the slenderness of his arms concealed a great deal of strength.

All three levels were connected by a flight of stairs, too narrow and too steep for Veemon to traverse alone with a grown man almost twice his height weighing him down. Once he set the scientist down, he considered coercion at gunpoint, only to opt against it when their new hostage walked obediently on his own, head bowed and eyebrows crinkled.

Dr. Akihiro wore the sourest expression Veemon's scarlet eyes had ever seen, yet to his _great_ surprise he was silent. Neither did he put up any form of resistance, seemingly accepting the circumstances as they were.

He found the inaction unsettling. Every step to their destination riddled his muscles with tension. Too often Veemon found himself clenching his fists, ears and eyes alert for anything the R&D's top nerd might pull. Why weren't punches thrown at him? Sudden kicks? Didn't Kurata have any concealed firearms on him?

Why didn't the man _resist _at all? The passivity shown so far irritated the dragon, tortured him to no end. With each pace, he hoped Kurata would at least _do something_, if only to give him a few good excuses to smash the scientist to his heart's content.

Veemon's expectations were dashed into powder the second Kurata Akihiro sat in the corner with the obedience and subservience befitting _a dog_. The expression on his face was glacial. Better, _emotionless_. Even though the conspicuous lump of clay was stuck to the cabinet just a meter away, the Chosen's hostage showed no signs of fear.

Nor anxiety over his fate.

This indifference—this **apathy** sounded Veemon's mental alarms. Confirmed Hikari's suspicions. Something _wasn't_ right here. Something _wasn't_ adding up. Kurata had been stripped of his sole line of defense, his precious Xros Loaders rendered unusable and irretrievable.

Shouldn't Kurata feel dread? Shouldn't he at least shake, quiver, and pull at his brown, curly hair, worrying over the DSI's approach to hostages? Over the possibility the C4's planted throughout the DDS' mainframes would incinerate him at a moment's notice?

Tailmon tossed in the cables from the mezzanine, and the items landed behind Veemon with a soft _flump_. All the Digimon of Miracles had to do was turn around for a bit, reach slightly ahead of his tail, take the ropes, and wrap their hostage up like he was nothing more but a package of commercial goods being prepared for shipment.

The blue dragon prepared himself. He expected Kurata Akihiro to do something, to fight for his last moments of freedom. His body, arms, legs, and every single thing Veemon could move using sheer will were tingling from anticipation. This was the moment of truth, he thought. The best opportunity to strike the Digimon of Miracles down in an attempt to either escape captivity or kill one of the DSI's most wanted.

But R&D's Head Scientist did nothing. He did **absolutely** nothing. Veemon was honestly surprised by this torpidity, and the digimon hoped his muzzle wasn't _that_ easy to read.

Then without warning, the man began to chuckle. Gleeful titters rumbling from Kurata's throat, spewed as Veemon draped the cables around their hostage. "That girl is more perceptive than she looks." Veemon exhaled strongly, ignoring the cackles of someone who just took a leap off the deep end. He avoided making contact with the beads Kurata had for eyes. "If she had a little more time to crawl out her shell, she'd be as much of a threat as her older brother."

Once Dr. Akihiro was swathed in cables, the Chosen started tying the loose ends, forming a knot he knew was an _impressive_ piece of work. His human half taught him this of course, saying it was something so strong and reliable sailors and seafarers were wont to use them. Kurata smirked so wide, Veemon could no longer ignore him. Not when the pearly teeth were flashing inches from his snout, from his wide, crimson pools. "That's right, you f*cking _lizard_."

His words were dark. "It better be _reeaall_ tight." Ominous. "You don't want me getting away now, do you?"

The dragon of the brightest blue suspended his work. Veemon locked eyes with Kurata Akihiro, the air around him unfeeling, bitter, and angry, expressions he—a cheerful, easygoing creature—never thought would visit his muzzle. The Doctor did not once back down, the grin lingering, even _widening_, after Veemon **snarled** right in front of him. "Rrrrrrr!"

It was the loudest he ever mustered, the meanest he managed to summon from the recesses of his throat. Daisuke would've described it as a pack of rabid dogs, each canine with bared teeth, foaming muzzles, and thunderous growls that would drive any man crazy with fear.

But not this man.

Not Doctor Kurata Akihiro.

A normal man in his position would have been cowering in fear since the beginning of this captivity.

A normal man would have struggled like a wild animal that knew its time had come, yielding to the mind's most basic processes, to that powerful and aggressive survival instinct.

A sane man wouldn't have waited until he was immobilized before speaking to his captor. He'd have entreated Veemon for sweet mercy while employing a cordial if not suppliant cadence for every utterance.

Any sane person in his position, Veemon reflected, would do **everything** to keep his captors placated and conciliatory, for provoking them never resulted in anything good.

Kurata Akihiro, in response to the dragon's shot at intimidation, reacted with a powerful sneeze, in his face. "ACHOOOOO!" A massive spray of phlegm and saliva flew from the nerd, colliding with Veemon's snout and drenching it in a most sickening coat.

His scarlet eyes bristled and quivered with fury. Wiping off the mess, "_Yuck_."

"Oh I'm so _sorry,_" Kurata feigned an apologetic demeanor. Veemon saw through his guise and perceived it for what it was: condescension and veiled insults, plain and simple. "That must've been nasty."

That was the **last** straw.

Veemon's eye twitched once, maybe twice, before he brought his head back and hocked. "Vwargh…" The Digimon of Miracles lobbed a large glob of spit right into Kurata's face. "PTOO!" He spat it with so much force the man _physically _recoiled, shrinking back an inch or two before exaggerated reactions ensued.

"OH F*CKING BUDDHA!" The Doctor writhed in his corner. "SCAI SLOBBER!" His head slumped on the nearby cabinet. Kurata scraped his nose and jaw across its surface in what was clearly a vain attempt to clean his soiled countenance. "_Eyearrgh_, the stench!" Choking, "It **reeks** like spoiled mayo and toejam! For the love of—BWARGH!"

Now it was Veemon's turn to giggle and smirk. Even something as trifle as this had never felt so great.

"Like anyone enjoys being drenched in _my_ spit either."

* * *

"ACHOO!"

The deep and thunderous sneeze assaulted Misaki Buckmon's ears, causing her to twitch in fright. She bit her tongue, struggling to stiffen her shaking body lest she strike the underside of her work desk by accident.

"Opossu—

_Ssshhh!_ Misaki glared at the black ball of fur cradled in her arms, clamping down on its snout. The SCAI squirmed, uncomfortable in Misaki's embrace. It wanted to get away, to leap towards her empty office chair and take a seat. In all other circumstances, Misaki would have let her Opposumon do this, but not now! Not when there was a true monster in their midst.

She honestly had no idea why this was happening, right here, right now. This was supposed to be a quiet night—this was supposed to be a night where she feverishly "worked" on her laptop, earning two and a half times minimum wage doing nothing but sitting obediently in her chair, chatting with the DSI's guards, and wasting time on Imgur and StumbleUpon, if not Facebook.

Misaki Buckmon's job as R&D's receptionist thrust upon her the duty to welcome visiting businessmen and scientists, to facilitate orderly logins and notifications of R&D's employees and applicant-interns, and, naturally, screen out any unwanted visitors. She had been granted the authority to vacate such vermin with deadly force if necessary, a power Misaki has never invoked during the months of employment under the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Until tonight.

Her workplace was the majestic atrium every visitor and researcher entered the instant they stepped out into the narrow corridor, after their long descent from the security hub almost a kilometer up. The DSI had taken great care decorating the chamber for their welcome. Expensive granite tiles dotted the floor. The walls were painted a luxurious gold, with the surface behind Misaki's desk plastered conspicuously with the name and logo of the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Underneath the organization's emblems were the words of late Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy. A sentence that denoted the philosophy driving the DSI's every single operation.

"_The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity."_

Carved into the wall in English as Mitsuo Yamaki had designed it, Hiragana superscription translated the passage into the vernacular and ensured the retention of this sentence's power and essence. Thus its message—its avowal was not lost on those who laid eyes on it, any and all.

Misaki Buckmon's term as the front receptionist gave her the knowledge this was _not_ the only embellishment of the atrium, for its golden halls was lined with paintings of the most prominent and illustrious of artists, local and foreign alike. Their works were so crisp, so rich, and so vivid in color Misaki couldn't tell if she had been working alongside masterful recreations or the original paintings themselves.

Small talk with the more artistically-inclined coworkers, however, highlighted the common factor tying these paintings together. Each adhered to a fundamental concept founded at the very core of the Digital Suppression Initiative. One example was Jan Matejko's _Astronomer Copernicus_, a depiction of the eponymous astronomer ogling the heavens from the balcony of a steeple.

Misaki knew it was a symbol of epiphany. A representation of the truths and knowledge humankind could gleam from the Digital World and the SCAI's with which they coexisted, stripped free of all that made these otherworldly creatures dangerous and dissenting.

Exactly one minute past four, brisk footsteps interrupted the receptionist's solitude. She whisked her head in their direction and caught a glimpse of four guardsmen—one fireteam. Every soldier, considered veterans by their peers in M&A, positioned themselves before the corridor. Clad in their dark blue BDU's, all men bore Howa Type 89's, assault rifles issued _only_ to personnel of their rank, along with esteemed members of the Japan Self-Defense Forces.

Two stacked up on the corners. The remainder crouched and stayed in place, as though they had cover. Before Misaki pointed this logistical error out, the two planted devices before them. These machines whined in her ears, generating a couple screens of yellow light, large enough for them to hide behind.

"Posu, possuuuuuuu!" The Opossumon sitting quietly on her lap covered its ears and wailed.

Had the receptionist kept her gaze on the machines for a second longer, she would've seen the translucent luster of their screens. The shields of energy would infuse Misaki with awe and wonder. Awe, for she had forgotten the surreal nature of the technology used by her employer. Wonder, for the light screens exuded this feeling of otherworldliness—an exogenous aura, hinting at the mystical source of their power and strength.

A Modifier would know these screens were powered by Digital Modification.

Anyone else would not.

Misaki Buckmon could care less either way. She directed her attention to the wailing SCAI. "Shhhhh," she cooed. "It's okay, my little Nora. It's okay, you don't have to cry. They're just the security—

"Mrs. Buckmon."

"Yes?"

Crouched behind the light screen, one of the guardsmen had his head turned to her. Only now did he apprehend the presence of the R&D's long-time receptionist. Knowing their operation could endanger the woman, "It isn't safe here. The Wing's computers detected an armed intruder in the security hub."

Her eyes dilated. This was not a good omen. "Wait, didn't it have a turret system? What happened to—

"They were destroyed."

"Buddha." Misaki inhaled sharply. "How—that's—

Ignoring her, "Sensors are saying the intruder's already in the elevator. The cab's been stopped mid-descent by the smart detectors, but our SOP's call for either apprehension or death. This might end up messy, so—

One of his companions snapped. "Mrs. Buckmon, evacuate **now**! Get away from here and hide someplace safe! Sound the alarm if—

Misaki's eyes widened at the sight of a man flying out of a doorway with an outstretched fist. A steel slab _inches thick_ flew from its linkages and slammed into the concrete wall on the other side, where it slumped unceremoniously on the floor and left behind a crater that would cost no less than half a million Yen to repair.

"What the hell!"

"But the cab was stopped in mid-descent, how did he—

"HE'S GRABBING THE DOOR! BUDDHA, OPEN FIRE, OPEN FIRE!"

Misaki squealed, not at the sight of the blond invader, not at the intensity of his goldenrod stare, not at the Howa Type 89's frantic and thunderous bursts of fire, but at the implications of their target's survival: he tore open a hole in the cab and leapt into the elevator shaft, falling _over half a kilometer_ to the bottom.

None of the analyses and interpretations of the atrium's various paintings were forgotten when she processed such inferences. Misaki remembered Caravaggio's 1600 _Conversion of Saint Paul_, a painting framed in this very atrium that depicted a man blinded by light, his hands clasped over his face from the blinding glory of Christ Jesus.

It was a depiction of a divine entity disrupting—_dislocating_ the world through an unfathomable intervention unlike any other before it.

The Vice-Chairman loved this painting, for it apparently delineated the impact of the Digital Revelation ten years ago. The receptionist thought about this painting, for it was at this very moment she empathized with Saul of Tarsus.

Misaki had realized the creature invading the R&D Wing was beyond description. An entity whose attack upset normality and order, unrepentant and unwary of the consequences. Invincible to all that retaliated.

Noticing their rifles were useless against the man, one of the soldiers hurled a fragmentation grenade at him. He then turned to the receptionist. "Buckmon!" he roared. "GO! Get outta—

He did not see the frame of solid steel rushing at him at breakneck speeds. It collided with the light screen. What was once a door had become a lethal projectile, one propelled by so much kinetic energy the high-tech barriers were no different from sheet metal. The yellow sheen shattered into pieces as did its generator.

The door crumpled during its streak, scraping the polished granite and leaving in its wake so much blood and gore the guard she'd been speaking with was no longer recognizable. Misaki Buckmon screeched in terror at the very moment his flesh landed on her cheek. She seized her Opossumon and, instead of fleeing the scene, ducked underneath the desk, shivering in fright.

Screams pervaded the air, assaulting her psyche with vibrant imaginations of their deaths, their guts strewn across the wall. Bullets whizzed out of their guns uselessly, if any of their utterances were of any indication.

"Buddha, he's _immune_ to our guns! Shinji, call for backup. We _need_ reinforce—F*CK, SHINJI!"

Misaki wanted this to stop. She wanted this to just **stop**!

Why was this happening? Why did her serene night go away and drop this abominable situation on her lap?

"Corporal! No, let him go, you bastard! Let him—

The soldier screamed in shock and agony. He screamed like he had seen his best friend die before his eyes, like his loved ones were claimed by death in such a way there wasn't a body left to bury, nothing left to cremate and see off to the afterlife.

Misaki shouldn't have let curiosity stoke her, compel her into popping her head out. If she didn't, she wouldn't have had to see the two halves of what was once a human body dangling in the blond's grip. Blood stained much of the floor, and the last remaining soldier could do nothing but shriek in horror, in agony, and in indescribable rage as he emptied the clips of his rifle second by second.

Bullet by bullet.

Misaki Buckmon felt her esophagus opening, purging her stomach of its contents. She stifled her urge to regurgitate, witnessing the invader hurl the remnants of the corporal at his final adversary. The veteran rolled out of the way, and both he and the receptionist glimpsed the two chunks of flesh splatter into unstructured globs.

The soldier continued to scream and open fire, his target _calmly_ walking in his direction. He no longer bothered to evade the bullets, the smirk on his countenance representative of the confidence only one so invincible could have.

Misaki retreated to her refuge, where she trained her vision on the button underneath the desk and pushed it. Pushed it so many times, her mind wanting all this to end. She wanted to survive. She wanted to see her daughter Yuji again. She wanted to see her husband and snuggle up to him, hugging all her fears and worries and anxieties away.

If only she knew Christopher Van Numen would have left her alone had she restrained the urge to alert the entire R&D Wing.

Silence blanketed the atrium once more, and the indiscernible gurgles of the last man faded into his last breath. A breath of finality, of a fight that couldn't be won.

"ACHOO!"

The blond suddenly sneezed, jolting Misaki out of fear. She embraced her Opposumon, not caring her terrified grip was suffocating the poor thing. A lone set of footsteps echoed throughout the chamber, casting powerful and intimidating reverberations. Adrenaline sharpened her hearing, and somehow the receptionist made out the deep, self-assured breaths of the blond invader despite the regular thumping of her heart.

Those horrifying footfalls softened, lessening Misaki's fright. She relaxed somewhat, releasing her SCAI from her panic. "Opoposssu," it mumbled, taking one deep breath after another.

The alarms began blaring, inundating the R&D Wing with a constant, monotonous racket. Misaki Buckmon knew this wouldn't go away until someone from security deactivated it.

"Sorry, Nora," the receptionist apologized. "I could've killed you." Taking deep breaths herself, "I was just—well, it's all gonna be okay. It's over now. It's—it's over…"

She spoke too soon.

Moments after sirens deluged the research facilities in their entirety, her work desk was effortlessly lifted in the air and hurled to a corner of the atrium, where it crashed into _Astronomer Copernicus_ and obliterated the painting. A picture frame had fallen. Misaki's eyes darted to it for a split-second, recognizing the features of her daughter Yuji before they rolled into the darkening, narrowing glare of the blond invader.

He was scowling.

Misaki's mind went blank. She did not ponder why her ears failed to hear his returning footsteps. She did not wonder, for curiosity's sake, how the man closed the distance between him and her laughable excuse for a refuge in an instant. All she could do was scream and wail in terror until the man clutched her jaw and held it tight.

The stranger lifted her from the floor, and the only thing Misaki managed to grab was Yuji's photograph.

"Opossu!" Her SCAI yelled. It ogled the unfolding scene. "Opossu, pos, posu!"

What the creature was saying, what it was meaning, the receptionist would never know. The man lifted his foot and, without so much as a cringe or a grimace of self-loathing, plunged it down. His boot squashed Opossumon into scarlet paste. _Nora! _Her eyes saw not the slow, gradual disintegration its remains began immediately, but instead the visible crater around them.

The power behind the blond's attack was so strong it sent shockwaves that caused the floor to explode and simultaneously crack the granite. Misaki gazed into the man's face, where she perceived nothing. Not even emotions. Her reward for staring was a mask of indifference. A mask of apathy and ruthlessness.

Misaki began crying.

"If you hadn't done anything, I would've left you alone." His words were like blasts of ice, shooting chills up her spine. "You shouldn't have set the alarms on me." The grip around her jaw tightened, getting tighter and tighter until her throat began to collapse.

"ARRGHKKKKK!"

Misaki Buckmon screamed and thrashed, but there was nothing she could do. She was powerless. Powerless against this unfathomable entity and such incomprehensible strength.

She wasn't going to see her husband again. She wasn't going to see her wonderful Yuji again.

As Misaki realized this, tears started falling as her memories brought the conversation she had with her that dusk, right before she left home for the night shift.

"Mama!" The little girl accosted. "Mama! Don't forget, okay? Ask those scientists at R&D about _that_ project!"

"What project?"

Yuji pouted. "You _know_, the new one Nintendo's having with the DSI! I read they're trying to create—

Misaki remembered frowning at those words. "Well, honey, I'll have a talk with them later, but I don't think I have the clearance for it, so don't get your hopes up."

"Awwww…."

"And where did you _get_ that idea?" A stern voice. "Nintendo stopped working with the DSI after the Digidestined crashed the SCAI battle tournament last year."

"That's not what WikiLeaks says!"

"Yuji, you can't believe everything you read on the Internet. They could be lies."

"B-but, but it has proof! It's uploaded all these funny legal documents I can't understand—

"That **still** doesn't mean it's true." Misaki turned to the only other SCAI in the house: a Palmon taking in nutrients from some soil in a clay pot. "You remember what I told you about the SCAI and their tribands, do you?"

It noticed her stare. "Pal?"

"SCAI's aren't like what we see in the _animé_," Yuji sniffled. Her words were recited in dull undertones, as though it was something that had been drilled into her many times over. "They're animals. They hate humans. They'll kill me just because I'm one. So tribands keep them happy, friendly, and cute."

Yuji eyed Palmon. The two-foot plant ambled to her and wrapped her in its loving vines. "Paaallll…"

"Exactly." Misaki nodded. She expertly brought this into the original context. "The Digidestined keep saying _something else_, and they have 'proof' out on the Internet. Photos, testimonials, videos… but who's more believable? A giant organization that does everything to improve our lives, or a small group of terrorists who don't want what's best for us?"

Then she left, walking away from a somber Yuji and her SCAI. Her husband did not even arrive home on time, leading Misaki to think his employer had another major project to work on. If only he wasn't a workaholic, she was thinking then.

Misaki Buckmon's last thoughts were nothing but sweet.

She raised the only possession in her grasp. Resigned to her fate, she gave the photograph a most longing stare. "I'm sorry, Yuji," she wanted to say.

Sorry for making her sad.

Sorry for leaving her alone with this stern reproof as the last moment they shared together as mother and daughter.

Sorry for abandoning her like this. Now she would never know the answer to her question. She would never feel the love and warmth of a mother's embrace anymore.

She was sorry for leaving her husband too, and her thoughts would have dwelled on this if the man did not crush her neck into powder.

The last things her senses registered were the burning heat of rocks covered in magma, the salient blasts of gunfire, and the hazy figure of a SCAI that had the appearance of a man composed of searing flames, its scarlet triband almost invisible to the eye.

Squads of guardsmen trooped in, planted light screens, and took cover. "Hongo! Have Meramon charge this S.O.B.!"

"_Sir_! Meramon, Fire Wave, full charge!"

"MERRRAAA!" The manlike SCAI roared and rushed the blond invader, augmenting the flames that were its own body.

Despite all the apologies she made before her death, none of them, unheard or verbalized, could dilute the pain and agony of losing one's mother.

A JNN press release tomorrow pinned the blame of Misaki's death on Wild Ones attempting an escape from R&D's domestication facility, killing everyone they encountered. Without outside help, Yuji Buckmon faced a future of hatred, detesting SCAI's for the rest of her life.

Had Misaki Buckmon been aware of this greater tragedy, she might have cried harder.

* * *

_Intervention._

_.  
_

The survivor of the Midnight Assault inhaled sharply. "'So'?" she reiterated, almost skeptical at how callous, how indifferent Felicia's response was.

This nonchalant rejoinder shocked the Modifier. It caught her off-guard, causing her to stop and pause, as though time itself could stop for her. The woman in green was _belittling_ the Midnight Assault. She drew amusement from its disastrous failure, from the deaths of innocents.

It was a game fifteen excellent soldiers played a part in. A cunning scheme twelve of them lost their lives for. The Digital Suppression Initiative even suffered for it, losing prototypical technology to Ken Ichijouji's forces.

_.  
_

_Since time immemorial outsiders have always been involved in the affairs of others. Poking their noses into someone else's business with or without invitation._

_.  
_

The more Lucy continued to process Felicia's callous and blasé attitude, the more her urge to vomit in repugnance vanished, surrendering to a burgundy rage. Glowing embers of fury began to emerge inside her, coming to light and overwhelming even her fear of the enigmatic woman's abilities.

If the late Colonel and Aldo Kikuchi's "groundbreaking contribution" had the peerless acuity to notice this, it must have been disguised by her apathy. "_Christopher Van Numen_," Felicia articulated. Her seductive voice was extended, drawing out every word coming out of her mouth. How the woman could do this without _breathing _was a mystery to the Modifier. "_The Fifth Crusader, the Ordained Carrier, the Beacon_..."

The designations and the meanings they must have held were lost on Felicia's limited audience. Had they been recited before the four Gods of the Digital World, the Harmonious Ones, even they would have had trouble ascertaining their denotations.

_._

_They intrude callously, projecting their beliefs and so-called codes of justice onto the other in what is certainly no more than a blatant disregard for the other's moral and rational autonomy._

_. _

None can deny the ridicule and scorn distending her cadence. Ordinary observers may have thought Felicia was merely reciting a list of names, itemizing them individually without regard. In contrast, a gifted listener could detect the accompanying irreverence, disbursed towards both the subject and her two captive listeners. "Whatever alias you use for that wimp, it doesn't matter. He is **MY** prey. Mine alone."

_._

_Never mind the individuality, the contextual biography of the other, for they are blasphemous in the face of what is right. Disrespect so clearly flagrant and vile Emmanuel Kant might just vomit in his grave._

_.  
_

Her words sparked something inside Lucille Diaz. Her titian eyes dilated slightly, signaling to attentive observers the most damning flash—insights so critical she had swiftly connected the dots.

Felicia Portal had _known_ about Christopher's presence and his developing friendship with Veemon from he very beginning. Her knowledge preceded her cooperation with the Digital Suppression Initiative. Fully aware of the blond's location and the obvious consequences of launching an assault there, this bombastic woman nonetheless blessed R&D with its first æther technology, encouraging their use during the Midnight Assault.

So why?

Why didn't she accompany them instead?

Why did she _stay here_, if she could have easily—

"Then you **knew** where he was!" the Modifier accused. "You _knew_ what he's capable of! Why didn't you warn us? Why didn't you help—

The woman laughed. "Why should I? That wouldn't have benefited me at all."

"IT WOULD HAVE!" Lucy slammed her fist on the wall, momentarily forgetting about the blue lines circling her body. It shuddered from the strike, and little did she know the entire thing would've collapsed if it wasn't for the automated modifications strengthening it. "It would've benefited ALL OF US!"

_._

_Outside characters distort the footsteps of destiny, altering the threads of fate as though they are pristine angels empowered by a divine mandate, rendered invincible by their delusions of benevolence. _

_.  
_

Her arms lashed out, communicating her immeasurable frustration at this damn manipulator. "We could've taken Christopher and Veemon **easy**! The Midnight Assault could've been a success—the DSI might have been invading Ichijouji's headquarters _right now_!"

"Complete domination bores me."

"_Bores_ you?" Lucille growled. Her stance was aggressive, and had Felicia been anyone else, she might have pounced on her and beat her to a pulp for her reasoning alone. "We're at **war**, and the only thing you care about's your _entertainment_?

_Or perhaps, driven by motivations incomprehensible to the insider._

She clutched the grip of her M9. The pistol quaked inside her grasp. The Modifier's rage was incredibly venomous. How she wanted to _murder_ Felicia. How she wanted to maim her, ravage her body, and tear that smug right from her leering visage. "Veemon's still alive, twelve people died, and the Chosen Children now have a trump card! **ALL BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR CRUEL INTENTIONS**!

Blue lines of energy swirled around her firearm. It snaked around it, coiling and accumulating until it swathed the M9 in a cerulean glow. Only a few seconds had passed when it dispersed, revealing an ebony handcannon, its integrated barrel brimming with the energy of _Positron Laser_. Lucy knew the blast of power consumed a quarter of her digivice's power, but if it could kill, or at least hurt, this accursed witch, it was worth it. "For that, I ought to kill you right now!"

The Modifier did not know how to respond to her reaction. Felicia Portal raised her chin and started _chortling _with her eyes shut. Lucille Diaz had just threatened her with lethal force, and all she could return in response was **laughter**?

_._

_Possibly sinister._

_.  
_

"Empty threats," the Realmdrifter dismissed. "I can obliterate this landfill you call a country in a single day if I wanted to."

The glowing embers burst into fire, igniting waves of explosions inside Lucille Diaz, one after another. Her titian gaze narrowed, her teeth bared. Lucy yielded to her rage, raising the handcannon that had been her pistol. "Don't underestimate me, you effing _cunt_!"

Arcs of plasma and electricity flashed inches beyond her weapon. _Blue Thunder_ had been invoked to warn Lucy. Demanding that she cease and desist, that she restrain herself before something irreparable could happen. "LUCILLE DIAZ!" the Vice-Chairman admonished. "HOLD—

"Full charge, POSITRON LASER!"

A ray of energy _streamed_ from the handcannon. Unbearable screams broke the mounting tension, the sheer pitch and volume capable of competing with the Realm Scanner's _Assault Mode_. It raced towards Felicia Portal, who remained stationary in front of Daisuke's capsule.

Lucy did not care if she slaughtered R&D's prized asset.

Lucy did not care if Daisuke's demise meant the end of her own career.

All she cared about was making this bitch pay for what she did. All she wanted was justice. Justice for the meaningless deaths of her comrades.

The twelve Modifiers that died last week weren't going to be in vain, and Lucy would much rather die than let their honor remain tarnished in lieu of Felicia's scheming.

_._

_Possibly magnanimous._

_.  
_

To the soldier's full and absolute astonishment, the stream of energy converged into one point. An inscrutable singularity appeared beside the woman in green, and it absorbed the entire attack her transformed gun generated. The lime orb lengthened, becoming a beautiful lance. It sparkled from the laboratory's light, and its very presence exuded immense power. Lucy couldn't help retreating in its sight.

Transfixed by the crystallized energy, she did not notice Felicia Portal had vanished. She did not see the ripples shaking the air. By sheer luck, Lucille's backstep saved her life. Had she lingered for one more moment, she would've been killed instantly, consumed by the sudden plume of a celadon light. Instead it stormed in front of her eyes, thundering as though it contained the infernos of Hell within.

Then Felicia appeared from above. She faded into the visible dimension, her hands and forearms enveloped in clouds of dark matter. Lucy recognized their yellow-green hue and for some reason, it was only now that she realized she could easily die in a single strike. Perhaps the woman in green had been honest about her power.

Perhaps she had been right to dismiss Lucy's warnings as empty threats.

Felicia's hands moved fluidly. They made a half-circle and met, the energy they caressed intensifying into a bright chartreuse light as a translucent, emerald haze enshrouded Lucy's opponent. Each action was deliberate and intended. The woman in green was calm and composed throughout this engagement. Her detached voice reflected this demeanor. "Prepare yourself!"

_._

_But selfish in both cases, compelling the wielders of disruption to upend present history without remorse._

_.  
_

A blast of energy rivaling _Positron Laser_ burst from the sphere. "LOTUS SCATTER!" Pure, undiluted C-grade æther. The beam cascaded towards Lucy below, and even she knew getting hit was tantamount to instant death. Realizing her position, the Modifier dashed away from its direct line of fire—

"ARGH!"

Only for the hovering crystal blade to suddenly impale her leg and pin her to the spot. Lucy muttered an expletive and tried to rip the sword out. But it had dug deep into the floor, and no matter how much strength she put into her efforts, it refused to move. But the beam of light did not stop for her. It rushed closer and closer. A torrent of death. She didn't have time to counterattack with another _Positron Laser_. "Shit!" the Modifier cursed. Lucy scrambled to put up her best defenses through _Biomorph_, hoping Paildramon's armor would suffice as a last defense. Unfortunately the lines of energy weren't circling—weren't converging fast enough.

Lucy was too late. The Modifier crouched, ogled the oncoming beam, and raised her arms, shutting her eyes and wishing she could deny the reality of her imminent death. "I was a fool," she scolded herself. Lucy had challenged Felicia thoughtlessly, attacking without knowing the full extent of her abilities. The woman was far, far stronger than Christopher. Felicia was the greater danger, and though she placed herself beside the DSI, her capricious approach endangered the organization's victory, posing risks so vast and imperceptible they were better off without her so-called aid.

Seconds remained until oblivion claimed the Modifier.

The lime shade occupied her vision, growing and growing in intensity until it consumed her—

Nothing came.

There was no intense pain.

There was no momentary flash of agony.

There were only a couple of footsteps, followed by the distinctive presence of another.

Lucille Diaz opened her eyes and, struck by wonder, basked in the marvelous presence of Mitsuo Yamaki, whose imposing figure towered above her. Yet the Vice-Chairman was not the source of her awe. What drew amazement from the deepest reaches of her heart was the lavender slab conjured by Digital Modification, which had been struck in Lucy's place.

The _Lotus Scatter_ zeroed in on the sheet of metal. It bore down with the unrelenting charge of a comet. It vied to destroy them both, wielding the unparalleled intensity of the strongest of solar flares. By all rights, by _pure logic_, the shield should have been destroyed. Disintegrated by the oblivion only æther impended.

Miraculously the lucent shield held, undamaged and intact even as the left arm it eclipsed still bore the brunt of Felicia's attack. It was _absorbing_ the pulsating stream, disrupting its deafening motion and assimilating its own power as though it was manufactured using æther of the highest quality.

Violent currents of air flogged the Vice-Chair's blazer. Despite nullifying the destructive force of the _Lotus Scatter_, the mauve shield could not withstand the sheer power it emanated. Yamaki's legs were quivering, threatening to buckle like jelly and expose them both to a death god's scythe.

The man may have recognized their grave predicament. The DSI's second-in-command may have been approaching his limits. Even with these harrowing parameters, the Divine Assault gazed down at her. Lucy trembled from fear, as it was the most reproachful stare she ever received from him.

"I'll take care of this," usurped his ultramarine pools. "I will not cover for you _again_."

In time, Felicia Portal ceased her attack. Lucy's titian gaze watched the woman in green descend from the mezzanine, hovering in front of them with a frightening disdain in her emerald eyes. "So you intervened." The emotions behind these words were veiled; it was hard to tell if she was amused or irritated.

Yamaki directed his gaze upwards. While Fladramon's gauntlet and the gargantuan shield burst into digital particles, he thumped his chest once and bowed his head in a swift, graceful kowtow. "Forgive Lucy for being impulsive," appealed the second most powerful man on Earth. To think someone in his position surrendered so _easily_! "She's been through a lot, and she can't help it if she believes—

"Shut up," commanded the enigmatic female. The mortal expression, the murderous intent emanating from her body intimidated them both. Her scanty attire, while it might have been laughable on any other, accentuated the massive pressure of her glower. "If you didn't have the Realmstone Fragment, I would've killed you and your bitch _long ago_."

She vanished, leaving behind ripples of air. The puppeteer materialized a step beyond Yamaki and yanked the lapels of his polo. Felicia stared at the gold choker—at its green, sparkling jewel. Consternation swelled in her gape. "How can an artifact **beyond** your mortal comprehension grant you limited access to its infinite power?"

Felicia reached for the gemstone. Her fingers coiled around it, and Yamaki did nothing, knowing full well she could slay him at anytime. The woman tugged, jerking her hand with enough force to bring down spires of concrete and steel. That it slipped out her clasp, that her strength failed to even snap Yamaki's chain necklace, was as baffling as it was inexplicable. "I cannot even grasp why a worthless piece of _shit_ like you is allowed to even carry it."

In one fluid swipe she snatched the crystal blade and pulled it out of Lucille's leg. Felicia hurled it away; it burst into a small cloud of æther a second later, informing the Modifier she was being toyed with all this time. Strung along for this bastard's amusement. The fridge horror was horrific, and Lucy shook at the fact she had been so close to a humiliating and meaningless death.

"These mysteries aren't worth my time." She stared at the uneasy soldier. "It is simply bait for the Fifth Crusader, so I don't mind the _maggots _wallowing in filth."

Lucy would have scowled and, possibly, lunged at the Realmdrifter once more if she didn't catch her appellation for Chris. Shock flickered in her countenance. "Christopher's after that _rock_?"

_._

_Reaching for their objectives at any cost._

_.  
_

As if on cue, alarms began to wail. Their monotonous whines flooded the R&D Wing. At the same time, the faint rumble of several explosions shook the foundations of the facility, their epicenter located somewhere faraway.

The DSI's second-in-command brought a hand to his earpiece and listened to the subsequent radio chatter. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. "Someone's invading R&D," he murmured. "A blond man. Killing whatever he meets." He clasped his mouth, nonplussed and speechless. "Invincible to _everything _thrown his way."

Felicia Portal grinned.

"The Digital Dive System has been bombed." Lucy's own earpiece came to life, bringing reports straight from the M&A Wing's security room. "Patrols have engaged _Hikari Yagami_, _Nefertimon_, and _Veemon_ in the corridors near the Third Gate. Both SCAI's are considered hostile and extremely dangerous. **All** DSI combatants are ordered to pursue and kill—

Another transmission interrupted the announcement. "Lucy!"

It was Aldo.

"Lucy, you won't effiiiiiiiing buh-lieve this! Ivy's got word, Courage has escaped! **COURAGE HAS ESH-CAPED AND HE'S RAISING HELL**!"

She replied, "What! But his guards? What about the steel door—

"Like I'd know! Security's giving me bullshit about some sexy slut appearing out of the blue and destroying everything, even the cams—

_Sexy slut_.

That was all she needed to know.

Lucy glared at Felicia Portal. "You sprang Taichi out of his cell!"

Felicia's grin broadened.

"Why?" the Modifier clamored, restraining herself. "Why are you doing all this? What do you really **want**?"

Lucy received a sinister cackle in reply. Felicia began to fade from existence, akin to a color gradually becoming gray. "You should worry more about yourself. The Fifth Crusader is heading here as we speak…"

She swung her fist at Felicia, fantasizing at the sweet sensation of smacking the detestable freak at the very least. The Modifier whizzed through her visage, pummeling air. The yellow-haired veteran grumbled, releasing her ire through shrill screams. Her questions left hanging on a steep cliff, there was nothing else to do but curse. "GODDAMMIT!"

But she was not helpless. Lucille had no intentions of dying that night. "I swear." Not when someone still had to answer for the meaningless failure of the Midnight Assault. "I _swear _to God I'll find a way."

A way to survive.

A way to level the playing field.

A way to hurt these God Moders and expose them to the horrors of mortality, to the desperation of infirmity.

"I _f*cking_ swear!"

.

.

.

_With Taichi on the run, Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon sneaking in through a backdoor, and Christopher steamrolling every obstacle in his path, the Digital Suppression Initiative finds itself in a storm of its own brewing._

_Insidious conspiracies permeate the backdrop of this war, the stakes multiplied exponentially by the two outsiders interfering with the conflict between men and monsters._

_How will the Chosen Children cope with these developments? Will Veemon find his partner during the chaos that is sure to follow? Can Hikari find her brother before she is caught by the trap waiting for her?_

_Will Christopher manage to detach himself from the ordeals of the Infiltration? Or is he simply in denial, unable to accept the possibility it has long been too late for him to do so, blinded by his narrow sight to even grasp the ramifications of his selfishness?_

_Coming up next on _The Interloper_, "Flanked"._

* * *

**Post-chapter Author's Notes:**

[5] And the DSI Infiltration battle **has** **officially begun**.

Yamaki's origins and passion for the organization are called out as secrets. Taichi's stirring trouble on his own and his three would-be rescuers have bombed the DDS (and Kurata with it). Veemon would be really-really-REALLY jealous if he ever learned Christopher is not only headed for Daisuke but also **abusing his invulnerability **while he's at it!

To top it all off, we've got Felicia Portal manipulating _all four_ parties at once.

What an interesting situation we have here. XD

[6] The surname "Buckmon" actually exists in real life. One of my aunt's patients carries this.

[7] I blame the sheer length of _Cruel Intentions_ on Veemon. No, seriously. He oughta be slapped _really hard_. That dragon hijacked my chapter while he, Hikari, and Tailmon were crawling through the secret passage. Thanks to Vee, I couldn't force a time skip or a POV change until I've written enough detail to satisfy my standards. Grrr!

[8] There is no town that goes by the name of "Pallet" in Texas. It is merely a reference to the _Pokémon_ fandom, from which the character Professor Samuel Oak has been imported and incorporated into the _The Interloper_'s backstory.

[9] Speaking of _Pokémon_, I assign no ownership to the _Light Screen_ concept, which is reflected in the portable generators used by DSI veterans assigned to R&D.

[10] The UN Commission on Science and Technology for Development is real, and has been a subsidiary body of the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), a primary organ of the UN, since its inception on April 1993.

[11] WikiLeaks and Nintendo also exist in real life, so I obviously do not own their names, their histories, and their reputations. Caravaggio, Leo Tolstoy, and Matejko are people in real life history. They may be deceased, but they were prominent enough in their time to be recognized in the artistic community.


	26. Lucky Streak

**Pre-chapter author's notes:**

[1] Finally, an update! I've renamed the chapter from _Flanked _to _Lucky Streak_, to capture the general theme of the events happening in this chapter. Content-wise, I have fallen behind again! This is just **one half** of what I intended for the next update of _The Interloper_, and it's annoying. Several things here were not in my original outline, and I added them to give the story a more realistic feel, if not a more intense reader experience. Some of the events in this chapter were even accelerated from one of the planned chapters ahead, just because I felt it wasn't realistic enough to keep them there.

[2] As a reminder, DSI Patrolmen carry FN FAL rifles loaded with regular 7.62mm ammunition and are issued flak jackets swathed in the _Lockheed Dispersion Coating_, granting resistance to any non-physical attack from a digimon. Their experience level is intermediate between a fresh transfer (from the Japanese Self Defense Forces—this is a _real life _military organization, by the way) and a veteran, though their ruthlessness has been instilled into them via military discipline.

[3] Estimated word count is **22,700**, give or take a hundred or so. I wanted to end it a lot earlier, but the way I wrote this chapter made it difficult. You'll understand as you read on. **LBAnime** says I should just stick to it, as it'll resolve in the next update anyway…

By the way, this chapter is **purely** Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon. Just so you know.

[4] Happy reading! And again, please do not hesitate to give me honest feedback on my character handling and my storyline as a whole. Constructive criticism is highly encouraged.

* * *

**THE INTERLOPER**

**STORY ARC: PRIORITIES**

**CHAPTER 26: LUCKY STREAK**

* * *

"NILE JEWELRY!"

Roseate gemstones flew out the steel bracers adorning Nefertimon's paws. They crashed into the concrete walls, echoing loudly as rubble burst from all four corners of the passage. Showering the soldiers barring their way.

The Digital Suppression Initiative trained their men well. Taught them how to fight properly even digimon capable of leveling infrastructure, stripping them of their very foundations. The most dexterous of the guardsmen rolled out of harm's way, while the most unfortunate were trapped beneath, paralyzed and unable to move.

Veemon had to give the Armor Digimon some credit. She was trying hard not to kill them outright, out of respect for her partner's wish.

"TAKE THEM DOWN!"

Scarlet eyes veered downwards, glimpsing a Japanese soldier hold a metal pipe at them. The gaping hole was foreboding, presaging a great disaster within. What was an impassive yet determined expression clouding his visage soon became a brown mesh of indiscernible futures—Nefertimon flew quickly through what was definitely a cramped passage for swift flights.

It was enough to fit a digimon the size of MetalGreymon. Sufficient size for military vehicles, for what must surely be the hundreds of people forming the transient population…

Veemon aimed down the iron sights. It took all the training and skill Commandramon drilled into him in the past two years for the Chosen to keep his gun from quivering madly. Its cause was less the stomach-churning turbulence of Nefertimon's flight path contribute and more the fact it was not a snug fit, specifically manufactured for an adult human's handling, not a digimon as tall as a preadolescent child. Three 7.62 NATO rounds burst from the FN FAL as soon as he pulled the trigger, one for each shot.

**They missed**.

The Digimon of Miracles barked. "RPG, right behind—

_Whoosh_.

A streak of smoke billowed towards them, approaching fast. Veemon fired a couple times at it, only for the rocket to veer out of the line of fire, as though magic controlled its every swing. "What the!" His eyes caught the shooter, whose weapon was still trained on them.

This was the last thing they needed. Another missil—no! His aim was _following_ the rocket. Was he somehow directing it?

It was getting closer. Closer, and closer, and every time Veemon managed to align his sights on the projectile did it swerve—albeit awkwardly—to another direction. Gunfire swarmed him from virtually all sides. The back, the front, up, down, left, right, and below. It was nerve-wracking to think his body would be punctured with holes if Nefertimon hadn't been flying at a fast enough speed to minimize any chances of being hit.

Soldiers were opening fire. Close calls were innumerable. Veemon heard the screaming whistles of the 7.62 NATO rounds, zooming towards or away from his position on Nefertimon's rear. But he could do nothing about them, let alone shoot the people. He was simply too engrossed **trying** to dispatch the laser-guided missile, but it was proving too fast. Too volatile.

They needed to change their flight path.

"Four Gods!"

Fast.

The dragon swiveled on his seat, taking care not to unwind his tight straddle around the sphinx's hind legs. "It's closing in! We need to—

"VEEMON, I KNOW!"

She was telling him to shut up. He could easily see why. The opposition was **intense**. Now that the entire M&A Wing is on alert, DSI soldiers were **literally** coming out of every nook and cranny. The barracks must be as scattered as the utility rooms, recreational break rooms, and armories were. Each one of them was armed, wielding firearms capable of ending their infiltration mission in one shot.

The white sphinx banked left as soon as she yelled, and it was nearly a split second too late. In the next moment, an explosion flashed into existence, striking the digimon's prior position. The explosion was massive for its size. It would've left a serious—it would have **killed** Hikari had they been hit! Scarlet eyes found the culprit easily. It stood out, being a robot an inch or two shorter than him.

Daisuke's best friend ducked from survival instinct. "EEEEEKKK!" The fact it would've been fruitless didn't matter to her.

In her current state, the Digimon of Light was as strong as a weak Perfect-level digimon. Veemon was sure of it. When Tailmon first evolved into her Armor form last night as soon as they left the Digidestined's underground stronghold, the first evolution he witnessed since the disaster that was the Shinjuku March, even he could tell there was a gargantuan gap of strength between the Nefertimon of the past and the sphinx emerging from the light before him.

The Holy Ring made all the difference.

How Tailmon's original strength would have affected the entirety of their ordeal against the Digimon Kaiser and his puppetmasters was a topic worthy of speculation.

He wouldn't have cared about the combat drone had he failed to recognize the machine for what it was. The Foster-Miller TALON… or some odd variation of the weapon. The iteration before them fitted with a machinegun and a grenade launcher, it was one of the most versatile robots to be produced in the modern age.

Another blessed memory of the past resurfaced. Veemon remembered Daisuke's gasp of amazement at a TIME magazine's article that lauded the ingenuity of American programmers and engineers. He could remember it as though it was yesterday, with his human half yelling how he had to show Koushirou the—

He can't be distracted now! This _wasn't_ the time. They were dealing not only with a tried and tested war machine, but also one that was surely produced _for_ the Digital Suppression Initiative. Veemon swallowed a swelling anxiety.

If the DSI's ruthlessness and creativity—if his battle against the Modifiers and their absolute command over the Digimon Kaiser's suppression technology signaled anything, it would be the super strong possibility the DSI had a hand in this model's development.

Calibrated for use against digimon.

Another pressing matter was at hand. He gazed back, finding the laser-guided missile two meters closer than he hoped it was. The soldier who fired it was now a tiny silhouette in the distance. How powerful was the onboard computer in this rocket? How was the man even controlling the blasted thing?

_We need to ditch it behind cover_. His vision glimpsed a support pillar fast approaching. One was placed every fifty meters, and this was one among hundreds dotting the center of each path. No less thick than the _Doctor Who_ police box. Made of solid concrete, most likely reinforced with rebar.

Gunfire from the TALON drone deluged the passage in an ear-cracking rattling as tens of tens of 7.62 rounds inundated Nefertimon's direct flight path, many of them aimed straight at the sphinx's metal mask. The flying Chosen flapped her angel wings and accelerated more, causing a gut-wrenching force of gravity that could _only_ intensify when the sheer number of bullets struck the tips of her wings and—to Veemon's horror—severed small bits and pieces of flesh and feathers, every little scrap vanishing into data particles before they even hit the floor.

"AGH!"

He kept thinking of Salamon. He kept thinking of the poor creature, of the disgusting, nauseating paste she was turned into by a cruel and merciless driver.

"URP!" What food remained in the blue dragon's stomach was almost regurgitated. From disgust or from the G-Forces, he honestly couldn't tell the difference. What stopped him from releasing the contents of his belly on Hikari's back, or on the floor passing by them in a blur, was not his self-control, but by the change in Nefertimon's course. From a path free of obstruction to an imminent collision with the massive square column. "**DO SOMETHING!** We're gonna—

Hikari bellowed the first thing she could think of. "CURSE OF THE QUEEN, quick!"

A beam of energy radiated from the sphinx's headdress at the last minute. It struck the column milliseconds ahead, exploding and concealing the surroundings with debris carrying the smell of dust, chemicals, and electronic wires.

Not enough to clear the obstruction, but enough for a manageable leeway.

A leeway that jolted both passengers and would have certainly thrown them off if it wasn't for their stiffened clasp on the feline's body. The joggling slowed the digimon down, stopped her movements for a second or two. Veemon had no idea what Nefertimon's face looked like behind the mask, but from the way she was desperately flapping her wings, Hikari's surrogate sister was gnashing her jagged teeth.

They didn't have time to rest.

"Go!" Veemon urged. "Go, go, go, go! We're _already_ surround—

"Damn it, I'm **tryi**—

A startling blast flared from behind. Waves of searing heat followed the deafening bang of the missile that collided with the column Nefertimon almost crashed into and **obliterated** the reinforced concrete. Whatever lift, whatever speed she managed to generate vanished instantly as nature forced her into the nearby wall.

Hikari and Veemon alike did not have a soft body to cushion _their_ experience. It was painful. Bone-shattering, maybe. He feared for the junior Yagami, but he couldn't attend to her now. Veemon's biceps shook as he attempted to get up. He saw the two DSI soldiers prone on their left and right flanks, training a pair of light machineguns propped on bipods. The FN Minimi, a Belgian 5.56mm firearm popular in the modern age and something the Digimon of Miracles could recognize… had he been properly schooled on human firearms rather than Commandramon's limited knowledge.

Operating on reflexes honed through intense training, during the Modifier's skirmish of the Satellite Base, and against the superhuman agility of Christopher Van Numen, without thinking he kicked the assault rifle he had dropped on the way down right back into his hands and aimed the barrel at one of the soldiers. A few shots rang out before Nefertimon rose protectively, shielding Hikari and Veemon from the DSI's overwhelming offensive.

The man screamed in pain. He had been hit. Veemon suppressed the agony in his heart. After he killed his first human last week, the Chosen chose to stick to his code of ethics and avoid any more kills if he could help it. He was certainly more open to it now, even if the act brought with it revulsion, not indifference. Blessed were the Harmonious Ones if this never changed.

In his peripheral vision he discerned Hikari's rising body. She was shaken, and she was in terrible pain. If not from a fracture or dislocation then from the shock her frail, human body endured. "Cover Hikari," Nefertimon's instruction leapt into his ears.

Flames surged from Nefertimon's rear, following a thunderous blast. Thankfully it did not shatter the cement around them; it hadn't been a direct hit. "The robot!"

Nefertimon stood her ground. The power and strength of a digimon of her class ensured she remained in place. "Got it." A pillar of light rose from a slot in the back, conveniently placed within the white sphinx's armor. It was bright as it was blinding. Veemon's crimson spheres couldn't look at it directly, but he knew what was coming next. Confidence returned to him, palpable in the vigor that accompanied his arms when he placed them on the sphinx's back and shoved himself back onto his seat.

"ROSETTA STONE!"

Dense slabs of stone burst from the pillar, in any direction the Digimon of Light wished. Blocks were flying at incredible speeds, many of them bashing the DSI's FM TALON until it was scrap. They peppered the path behind them, smashing into the walls, into the support pillars, into the troops following them from behind. Some had their legs broken. Some fell to the ground, unconscious. Others were not as lucky, ripped in half, their flak jacketsrendered impotent by the ferocity, by the velocity of each solid projectile.

This result would be no less catastrophic for the Digital Suppression Initiative had Nefertimon blanketed the passage with _Curse of the Queen_. Lockheed Martin's _Dispersion Coating_, a chemical used to weaken energy-based digital attacks, had become a modern standard thanks to the DSI's business efforts and millions spent "investing" in political lobbying. It might have permitted survival if the sphinx remained as underpowered as she was ten years ago. Now, that didn't matter at all. She fought with the potential she never had before, attacking the soldiers using a strength that should have been there when they challenged the slaves of the Digimon Kaiser. A strength never documented in either the animated retelling of their _Digimon Adventure_ or the written work of the late blogger Takeru Takaishi.

Veemon trained the FN FAL in his hands and fired at the other soldier, aiming for the arms holding the gun straight. Four rounds found their mark and the man retracted his limbs, rolled away from the deadly weapon, and screeched with the pitch of a woman. Better to be shrieking in agony than to have the skull crushed into powder: a slab produced by Nefertimon's rapid-fire _Rosetta Stone_ buried itself right where the patrolman's head had originally been.

Out of danger for now, he found Hikari Yagami leaning on Nefertimon for support. Her face, laid to rest on her digimon partner's soft, but dirtied, fur. "Hikari," Veemon clamored. "Hikari!"

The adult woman gazed at him, coquelicot eyes staring deep into his crimson spheres. "Hikari, get on. We _mustn't_ stay—

"Agghhhhhh— I'm hurting all over," She bleated. Curse the fragility of the human body! "Give me a—

"We don't **have** a few seconds!" He extended his hand forward, hoping she'd take it.

"I—

Nefertimon barked at her, the desire to protect her human half and escape without a single death among them urging her to compel the woman. Force her, even. "C'mon, I can't keep this up forever!"

"My body won't—

She was in so much pain, it didn't matter if she poured all her willpower into it. Her body was unable to summon the strength to move a single inch, **right now**. It needed a minute to recover at least. A full sixty seconds they did not have.

This harrowing observation registered in Veemon's head as soon as those three words rasped out of her mouth. "I'll help you up," the blue dragon offered, growling over this misfortune as he slung the FN FAL over his shoulder. "Take my hand."

Without hesitation the Child of Light reached for the cerulean palm extended towards her. It shook madly, the nerves within restless and hyper. Bridging the gap on her own was not possible; Veemon leaned forward and crossed the center, seizing the outstretched palm and jerked her towards him. Towards Nefertimon.

Towards their only way out of this mess.

His pull did more than drag the Chosen Child closer. It lifted her up from the floor. High enough to slide the other leg down the sphinx's opposite flank. Somehow, he didn't know how she did it, but the woman mustered barely enough strength to straddle her digital half and collapse on her back, arms embracing the steel armor as though it were mere bristles of fur.

_Shwick._

It was a miracle.

_Thud-thud-thud-thud._

Veemon rotated.

A miracle that couldn't have come at a better time.

"F*CKING ANIMALS!" Roared a DSI patrolman within striking distance, whose proximity startled the blue dragon, almost paralyzing him for a split-second.

Somehow the soldier crept past the rubble, past the bodies, past the wreckage, past the howling soldiers, past the onslaught of _Rosetta Stones_ barreling out of Nefertimon's shining pillar of light straight from thin air. In retrospect, the warrior might have pretended to be wounded and unconscious, and given the circumstances, it could have fooled anyone, even the fabled Taichi Yagami himself.

He waited until the sphinx ceased her assault, until the relief of safety—however temporary and fleeting it truly was within the bowels of the Military and Administration Wing—overcame them—until they relaxed their guard. That's when he struck.

Combat experience and, once more, agile reflexes, compelled Veemon to act, to reach for the SIG P239 holstered on his baldric and aim for the tor—

A combat knife went straight for him. Not for the neck. Not for the eyes. Not for his muzzle. But for his **hands**. To defend himself the Digimon of Miracles rotated his handgun until the barrel obstructed the blade's path.

Before he could do anything else, the soldier slapped the gun down with his free hand, gripped the leathery hands clutching them, brought his knife around, and thrust the tip of the blade towards the dragon's muzzle. The fact he managed to get this far indicated the DSI trained their soldiers well in close quarters.

Veemon may not have the advantage of a long-ranged attack. He may not possess the destructive abilities innate to many digimon of the Child level, with their fireballs, piercing darts, blasts of wind, arcs of electricity, razor-sharp fangs, and the like, but if there was something he had and was _proud_ to have, it was his natural affinity for close combat.

Both of his hands were clasped tightly by the soldier. His feet still straddled Nefertimon's rear. He had nowhere to run, for the incoming swipe was too close for him to lean back and evade. But despite these glaring disadvantages, Daisuke's surrogate brother had the upper hand in this melee. A donkey kick from his fellow Chosen was unnecessary. Neither did he need support from the recovering human behind him.

Downward pressure from his attacker forced his two hands right on Nefertimon's thick tail. It granted him leverage. Leverage to bend his knees and recline. To lean back.

Not to evade.

Not to shift his head sideways.

Instead, he slammed **both** feet into the patrolman's chest. The damage his ribcage bore was multiplied by the sheer fact his stabbing motions provided the forward momentum needed to meet Veemon's feet halfway. He dropped to the floor on his back, with Nefertimon's solid Holy Ring clobbering the side of his knees as the digimon rose into the air, flapping her angel wings.

A couple bullets from his SIG P239, on _either knee_, assured him this sneaky bastard wasn't going to get up again anytime soon.

_Whoosh_.

Another laser-guided missile was launched by a soldier beyond his field of vision. Veemon's hearing picked up the sounds of gunfire erupting again. Reinforcements had arrived to replace the fallen and the injured. "Let's get out here!" Veemon clamored.

"Where?"

"There! That, t-that corridor," Hikari directed. She must've seen something. A source of hope for them all. Veemon was in the midst of switching to the stolen FN FAL when he heard her clarify, "Up the stairs!" Strength was returning to her, slowly but surely.

Veemon cherished any good news he could get.

"You got it!"

A flap of her powerful wings drove the airborne sphinx onward. Generating a strong gust of wind, the air currents disturbed the oncoming missile's path. Its course bent slightly, providing precious milliseconds for Nefertimon to escape its area of effect. This blessing went unnoticed, for she focused her heart on fleeing the danger zone.

Gravity compelled Veemon to coil his legs once more, its pressure no less than the force subjected to the passengers of an airplane during take-off. He caught the awed—the startled faces of the people they were leaving behind, adversaries prepared to engage them in this tight and cramped airspace. Not one of them expected Nefertimon to break away from the marked area and fly into an ascending passage containing a couple escalators and a staircase.

Funny how not one person among their group figured out that the corridors between the Nine Gates were, sans the security, virtually identical to their counterparts in subways and other underground rails located in throughout the Tokyo Metropolis.

"Cut the SCAI off!"

A vicious scream from above. Veemon whipped around and found a squad of four at the top of the staircase, armed with either the FN FAL or the FN Minimi. They opened fire as soon as the squad captain verbalized her order. Nefertimon maneuvered left and right to minimize their probabilities of hitting her partner, any and all. Veemon readied the rifle shaking in his hands, aiming _downward_—another patrolman stepped into his line of fire with a rocket launcher on his shoulders—

Three quick taps of the trigger and trained marksmanship sent their would-be backstabber down. Veemon's accuracy left a trio of holes in his target's belly. Souvenirs to remember him by should he live. Thunderous blasts resonated from Nefertimon's side of the battle, followed by a lull in gunfire. As they passed the apex of the path, scarlet eyes spotted the bodies.

Whether they were alive or dead, he would never know. In fact, he'd rather _not_ know.

Nefertimon flew to the support pillar in the center of the higher corridor. She positioned herself on the other side of a four-foot divider—something Veemon did not expect to see given its notable absence downstairs—and swiped at it with her armored paw, casually hurling a solid chunk of reinforced concrete down the staircase they ascended and into the sloped ceiling.

Deep echoes of destruction followed. Telltale signs the entire path had caved in under the might of the Digimon of Light.

Both Chosen, of Light and of Miracles, panned their heads left and right. For now, the corridor was empty, free of bullets and explosions and curses and insults. They earned some respite, but it wouldn't last. All three of them knew such a thing was fleeting and illusory. After all, the alarms were still blaring. Only now did Veemon hear the earsplitting whines again, now that the action has subsided.

"The Sixth Gate's that way!" Veemon pointed to the end of the passage on their right. It revealed a large space. Another hub not unlike the first they found themselves in a few minutes after they left the Digital Dive System and its creator. How did it look like now, with the M&A Wing at full alert? Teeming with soldiers? With UGV's? With battle tanks?

Were enslaved digimon waiting for them, their autonomy and reason subdued by the DSI's own spin on the dark spirals once used by the Digimon Kaiser? Or were the Modifiers hiding, prepared to ambush them with the full power of every single form in Veemon's evolutionary line?

Nefertimon approached the opening at her top speed, probably clocking in at 150 kilometers per hour. The Digital Suppression Initiative had beaten the trio to the second hub, assigning guards to their point of entry. Two opened fire from the walls, taking cover whenever the sphinx replied their assault with rose-colored gemstones the size of basketballs.

A third stood from the stone divider trailing the center of this passage and trained her weapon at them. With his gaze squinting down at remaining opponent, the FN FAL was visible in her grasp. There was something different about it. It had an attachment on the barrel, a delicate-looking machine that encircled the tube. Something about it troubled—

_Glowing_ projectiles populated his, Nefertimon's, and Hikari's sights. Boisterous clapping filled the dragon's ears. One for each bullet, the 7.62mm rounds leaving a trail of electricity at their wake. His blood froze at the sight.

This special effect dragged the dragon digimon back to that night in the Satellite Base. That night of fighting, agony, and death. Of unsettling insights, one after another.

"Don't let them hit you!" Veemon declared with the full authority of past experience. "They're _modified_!" This DSI soldier… she didn't look like a Modifier, but the weapon in her possession…

He aimed and replied back with gunfire of his own, but none of his response hit the mark. His target sprinted to the walls and rolled behind the corner, out of sight. Her last known position was basked in a beam of light emitted by Nefertimon's headdress, leaving behind black scorch marks and ashes in its wake.

No body.

_Click_.

Out of bullets again.

"Veemon," accosted Hikari, "Didn't you say the Modifiers have digivices on them? That woman had noth—

"_Believe _me," Veemon dug into his baldric, ripping one pouch open. "They **do**." One more thirty-round 7.62mm magazine in it. Number two out of the four in his possession. "But if she _was _one of them she wouldn't have retreated." He had barely finished reloading when Nefertimon zipped past the exit and into the open space of the second hub.

A large, cavernous chamber with five floors and passageways in all directions. Restaurants and other stalls for the civilians walking these halls during the day dotted the surroundings. Many of them were shut for the night, save for a 24-hour McDonald's currently devoid of employees (must've been evacuated beforehand). Veemon spied the indoor zen garden directly below them.

For a few seconds, perhaps five, the second hub was empty and free of human activity. It looked almost serene. Peaceful. The garden seemed to be a great place to relax and chill, even he could see that. Then the gravity of their situation finally revealed itself.

It manifested in the DSI personnel sliding out of their hideaways. They slunk into sight, training their firearms on the only flying beast in the center of this room. Veemon's eyes panned all around him, and this time he caught the silhouettes of Type 90 battle tanks making its way from quite a few passages. TALON drones were present as well, rolling their way into view with their SWORDS system holding up an intimidating array of weaponry, all of them aimed at Nefertimon.

"How'd they prepare all _this_?"

The Digimon of Light snarled. "DSI security anticipated our path. They knew where we're going, planned for it."

_Rosetta Stone_ was not going to solve their predicament. This was clear, even to its user. Here, a thick rain of tablets conferred no advantages. Here, they were surrounded from all sides. A direct consequence of emerging on the first mezzanine from the bottom.

"Hikari, what do we do?"

"I…"

"There's not a lot of them," Veemon observed. "Maybe we can—

"Full charge, CURSE OF THE QUEEN!"

Nefertimon seized first strike. The beam from her headdress streamed towards the DSI soldiers on the same level they were, right on the other side. They ducked behind the metal railings for cover, but that was stupid of them. Ignorant of the augmented power brandished by the Armor Digimon they faced as an opponent.

Didn't the guardsmen realize the energy would melt the metal and penetrate, burning their bodies until they were turned to dust?

Before Veemon had a chance to study the carnage, the DSI responded as well. Nefertimon swerved right, dodging a 40mm grenade from a TALON. He found a target to shoot on the first level and delivered a couple bullets to the human's shoulder.

One down.

"Just keep moving!" Hikari thrust her finger at a spot on the third level. She extended her arm for Nefertimon's benefit. "Don't stay in one place!"

Her digital half complied and flew up, swerving and banking in so many directions the blue dragon couldn't keep up. Instead, he chose the second level as his reference point. Curiosity had driven him to do it; he wanted to know if his expectations rang true. If the soldiers that had taken cover behind the railings—those _idiots_–were soldering on the floor, comprised of nothing more but ash, singed clothing, and tongues of fire.

For his interest, Veemon was rewarded with a translucent sheen of light. Yellow, shimmering with power. Brimming with the qualities of the Digital World.

A screen of light.

The soldiers Nefertimon had sentenced to death still lived. Now they were marking her with firearms that looked strangely like the same weapon that guardswoman used on them.

"They're not yet dead!" Veemon opened fire at them, but Nefertimon's flight was out of control. Wild and rampant. He couldn't get a clean hit on the three, who answered back. Bullets streamed past them, each clothed in a veil of fractured lightning and the chirping of birds. Imbued with so much electricity, it was terrifying to imagine what the effect would be on a Child-level like him, or a human like Nefertimon's partner.

He figured it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. One round was bad enough, but several at a time were **definitely** lethal. The inner child within Veemon—that immature side of him that seemed to emerge only during times of happiness and contentment, times when he could forget the troubles brought by maturity, times when he could truly be himself: _childishly _playful, affectionate, and buoyant—dominated him for a moment and produced a surprising insight.

It contrasted this particular modification to a concept seen in one specific _animé_ series. One of the most popular worldwide. One he was no longer sure of its status, having been isolated from the comfortable and happy life he lived during the Golden Age.

The series was about a young, naïve ninja ostracized by those among his community. Ridiculed by his peers. A young man who strived to change the world—who was destined to do great things, if Veemon understood the foreshadowing right. It took place in a world where wars were fought across the land in an endless cycle of violence, from one Hidden Village to the next, their warriors fighting with the very elements under their command.

One such element was lightning.

One particular concept—one specific _technique_ prominently used by a major character, summoned electricity visible to the naked eye and along with it, the audible chirping of birds. Thousands of them. Their high-pitched calls presaging the deadly strike that followed.

In this fictional world, this technique was fatal. Thrust into the target, it would paralyze, if not _overload_ the nervous system. Held long enough, it would even **cook** the insides, barbecuing the target into a smoldering corpse.

These projectiles… Veemon recognized the Digital Modification used here. _Scratch_ that: he recognized **his own power** adding this terrifying ability to the DSI's arsenal. The influence of Lighdramon. No less potent than its first use during the Satellite Base.

Wait a minute.

Was that _really_ its first use in combat? Or was Digital Modification a technology long under development? Was this going to be the legacy of Daisuke Motomiya, an instrument intended to undermine—to utterly demolish—everything he and the Twelve fought for?

"Harmonious Ones," Veemon heard the horrified murmurs of his airborne colleague. "Energy shields, electrified bullets! What… what else is next?"

This was merely the power of Lighdramon. Moreover, there wasn't a single Modifier within the group. The DSI wasn't bringing out the big guns just yet.

Nefertimon went straight to the top level and took shelter there, knowing the others at the bottom could not aim up through the concrete, if not due to the opacity then due to the high probability of friendly fire. They couldn't stay out in the open, but the danger was not abated by this mere act. Now, they had to deal with every person coming out of the passage.

"Nefertimon," Hikari gave her command, still unarmed. Still refusing to use the gun in her possession. "We need to close these passages. Keep them out!"

"No!" Veemon replied. His second magazine was almost out. So many discarded FAL's and casualties—alive or dead—fell around them as he and Nefertimon dispatched those they could. But they were moving way too fast for him to even start looting. "Get us **out** of here, Hikari. Please, get us out!"

"B-but—

"They're sending in **tanks**. They haven't sent any of the Modifiers yet! Barricades **won't** work and they **won't **get us any closer to Dai—chi!" He corrected himself at the last second. Veemon detested every time his tongue slipped. What a great display of his priorities, of his honesty.

.

.

.

_Christopher Van Numen stomped on what little attachments of friendship they had remaining and ground it into dust. "I'm not one of you!" he shouted, freezing Veemon in his place, leaving him perplexed, confused, and sad. "I'm not a Chosen whatever. I'm not obligated to _anyone here_ and that includes __**you**__!"_

_He wasn't going to help Hikari with Taichi. He wasn't going to help _him_ with _Daisuke_. He was simply in it for himself and he had used Veemon as a means to an end. Chris looked out __**only**__ for number one. One, one, one, one. Their friendship didn't matter at all. Not in the grand scheme of things. Not when he traveled the multiverse. Not when he was sure to meet another "Veemon" sooner or later, for better or for worse._

_Veemon was shoved to the ground and he landed on his butt. His tail took most of the fall, but it ached much less than this betrayal, than the disappointment from expecting so much from someone he assumed he could count on. As another friend, as a person he might one day consider second to Daisuke, if not as an equal. "And it goes the same way," he mumbled, scarlet eyes facing the ground. Afraid to face the blond, to see the truth, to realize he committed a grave mistake, unconsciously substituting Christopher for Daisuke._

"_Exactly!" Chris exclaimed, relief present in his upbeat tone. As though he finally made progress with someone he considered excessively stubborn. Or stupid. To the man, there probably wasn't a difference at all. "__**YOU AND I HAVE TWO DIFFERENT PRIORITIES!"**_

.

.

.

"AGHK!" A wordless moan of anguish slithered from Hikari Yagami. Her body convulsed in place, quivering, like she had just been subjected to high voltages. She collapsed. She slumped in her seat, still breathing, but utterly stunned. Blood flowed from a wound along her right shin. "T-that… couldn't… no words to describe it…"

"HIKARI!" Nefertimon roared. She found the soldier that had shot the Child of Light. Dodging was unnecessary. Her headdress shot a blast of light that melted any bullet that came into contact with it and destroyed the weapon. The man's hands were liquefied, and he was already screaming in agony when the white sphinx swooped in and, with one furious swipe of the arm, sent his upper torso flying into the center of the Second Hub.

Scarring the less experienced patrolmen.

Angering their seniors.

How painful it must have been! But one man's death wasn't going to do anything. At this rate…

"Hikari," Veemon whispered to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder—she jerked from the touch—a nd rubbed it as eagerly as he could, for Tailmon was too busy being a livid cat going on a rampage. "Just **think** and get us out of here."

"Ne, Nefertimon," she croaked weakly. "Can't you—

"NOT NOW!" She barely dodged a battle tank's line of fire and—again, a 40mm grenade from a TALON. Facing a fireteam hiding behind their energy shields, "NILE JEWELRY!" The jewels pierced the translucent veneers. The Light Screens were destroyed, but the men had enough time to escape.

"I'm too—no, I just… I just can't. I don't know what to do—

"You can do this," Veemon's platitudes encouraged her, his voice almost whining. "You can do this!"

"I'm **not** my brother; I'm not **your** partner! My mind's drawing a blank, my body's hurting all over, and I'm—

"STEP UP!" She had to. She needed to meet the pressure halfway and address it. The junior Yagami was not in a position to be wishy-washy. With all the leaders away or dead, there was no other choice left to her. "We _believe _in you, Hikari!"

How did this all happen in the first place? How did they end up stirring the hornet's nest like this? The M&A Wing was now fully alert and it seemed like every place they entered was a trap. Hikari was panicking, her mind unable to detach itself from the agony burdening her body and conceive something Daisuke would've thought of by now. **Taichi** would've been faster, being a talented strategist of his own right.

This should have been an infiltration mission. A task that demanded stealth. Not brute force. Not overwhelming dexterity, reflexes, and fatal accuracy.

This **hell** wasn't what Veemon envisioned so long ago.

Before Veemon defied the Tactician's desire for him to hide away in a safe place like a powerless refugee.

Before he marched to the Spire of Courage, ready to defend the sacred cave from the incoming armies of the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Before he encountered Christopher Van Numen.

Before he accompanied this self-centered _monster_ into the Real World.

And before he learned from Hikari and Tailmon that Daisuke Motomiya mysteriously vanished from existence a month ahead of this two-year war…

…one of Veemon's greatest fantasies was a successful infiltration of the DSI's portals, breaking into their hangars and barracks. Whether he was at the Fortress or his room at the Great Forest base, the dragon digimon loved to dream about a future he could never accomplish on his own, bursting through scores of human soldiers into the Real World, or sneaking past them undetected.

So often he imagined the corridors and hallways of the DSI facility to mirror that of the Digital Monsters' own locale: a whitewashed cobalt and angular passage that carried the air of military professionalism. He did not pause to think about the idiocy he subjected himself to. He did not think about security cameras dotting the corners and the ceiling. He did not think about the various armed guards undoubtedly patrolling through the floor.

Neither did he dwell on the impossibility of such a mission. Even if Ken and Iori, the chiefs of strategy and security for their faction, entertained _and _supported Veemon's naïve thoughts, the end result would have been failure. To step directly into the embrace of the Digital Suppression Initiative without knowing beforehand the horrors and tribulations waiting for them within was suicidal—was death and failure itself.

Yet all Veemon thought about back then was Daisuke.

_Daisuke…_

He lingered on the promise they made three years ago, on the day the Child of Miracles selected a path Veemon himself never wanted. Never consented to. A promise to stay in touch and to reconnect within a year, bearing the wonderful news that he and his human half could be together once again without incurring the ostracism and racial hostilities humanity invoked as much as it did the virtues of justice and equality. Sheer hypocrisy.

Not once did the Chosen think Daisuke Motomiya abandoned him. He kept the faith, steadfast, forcing his mind to accept it as he repeated, day after day, week after week, the ridicule of the non-Chosen notwithstanding.

…_Daisuke…_

Almost always the fabrics of his imagination directed the blue dragon not to a jail cell, but to an exit into the Tokyo Metropolis, where men and monsters coexisted with one another, where Daisuke Motomiya was surely resisting the Ministry's efforts to reduce digimon into objects for humans to fawn over like an Apple iDevice. Where Chris was involved, Veemon thought the secretive man and his human half would've made great friends, hitting it off rather well as the two of them had since their encounter in the Spire of Courage.

And if Daisuke had been in trouble with the DSI? Either Veemon overestimated his ability and his fortunes, or he anticipated Christopher's help, thinking they shared similar morals.

A shame reality deviated from his expectations.

…_Daisuke!_

Christopher Van Numen had secretly manipulated him, toyed with him until their interests, their priorities, finally diverged. Even he had trouble accepting the DITE as a form of atonement, not when doubt could still be cast on the gift itself.

Daisuke Motomiya was not in the Mt. Fuji stronghold as he hoped. He had supposedly disappeared, but through his combat with the Modifiers last week, he now believed his human half had been turned into a guinea pig. An experiment for Mitsuo Yamaki to dehumanize, violate, and abuse, all for the sake of a technology capable of changing the face of the enemy, and society itself. Thoughts of the Chosen Child being condemned to such a humiliating fate drove Veemon's desire to rescue him as soon as possible.

Perhaps the most nerve-wracking realization of all was his disillusion. His disappointment. His **anxiety**. Infiltrating the DSI's military and administration wing proved arduous; the trip very nearly claimed his life. Although they were lucky so far, arriving at the famed Digital Dive System and subduing its creator Kurata Akihiro, through this night Veemon would learn his dreams were so far removed from reality it scared him to think he'd have died as soon as he set foot in the M&A Wing, forever stranded on the other side.

The corridors were wide and vast, perhaps slightly fatter than the tunnels lining Beijing's subway system. Security cameras, concealed by an opaque, black dome, were scattered across the ceiling. Reaching the Sixth Gate was _impossible_, not without patrols hot on their feet.

Hikari Yagami peeked out the gaping frame leading out of the Digital Dive System. She didn't dare lean out into the open, lest the cameras capture her image and alert security before their mission could even begin. "That's a _long_ hallway," she remarked. "Counted five cameras. It merges with another passage after a thirty-second walk, but I saw a patrol passing by."

"How many?" asked Veemon. "What do they have?"

"Six _each_," murmured the Child of Light. "Every soldier's fully equipped. They've got assault rifles, vests, **everything**… can't tell if they're veterans. They're not wearing the dark blue uniforms."

Tailmon snarled. "Least we know the DSI's taking security **very** seriously."

Veemon reflected on the statement. The fact the Digital Dive System was infiltrated successfully without any disturbance at all was telling, and the Chosen wanted to ponder more about it. But now was not the time. "I thought they're 'focusing' on the Digital World?"

"They are, but…" Taichi's sister shook her head, "remember, there are **seven billion** people on Earth, and the DSI's _global_. No one's stupid enough to leave home unguarded and let all that talent go to waste."

"Sheesh! I can't imagine how full this place is on _normal_ days."

"So, what do we do? How can we even get to the Sixth Gate when we don't know _where_ we are? And even then—

"Tailmon, don't worry," comforted Veemon. He rotated towards the steel door they left behind. "I'll go back in there and question that scaredy cat." Patting one of his baldric's pouches, "I've got his keycard anyway so we've full access to anything open to him."

Veemon trotted towards the core of the Digital Dive System, but Hikari Yagami seized his shoulder. Stopped, he turned around to catch a pair of coquelicot pools shimmering, drowning in unexplained fear. _How's that possible?_ He asked himself. Kurata was all but tied up, restrained from movement.

"Don't go back in there."

"Eh? What's wrong? The Doc's harmless—

She bit her lip. "Trust me on this."

"Hikari?" piped Tailmon. She walked over to her partner and rubbed her legs tenderly, much like a real feline would. "What's on your mind?"

"There's _something_ about Dr. Akihiro that scares me." Veemon opened his muzzle to reply, only for Hikari to interrupt. "Yes, Veemon, I **know** we did everything we could. We destroyed the Xros Loaders, left him in a corner, tied his entire body up with _cable_, and planted C4's all around him. But…"

"Buuuuttt….."

"…but somewhere along the way, I started getting the feeling it's all _deliberate_; he's putting up a _front_."

"Now that you mention it," Veemon added, "When I brought him down to the bottom, he didn't fight back at all. Didn't even talk. Not a _peep! _And from all the squealing he did, you'd think he's a talker."

"That's right. I noticed that too," Tailmon nodded. "It's not normal."

Veemon shrugged. "Or **maybe** he's just crazy!" He propounded. "Like one of those 'evil mad scientist' types. He definitely fits the bill."

"I don't know if things will stay the way they are if one of us goes back in there," Yagami sighed. "So that means…" Reaching in her pocket, the 21-year old brought out a yellow scrunchy. Tying her shoulder-length hair into a hazel ponytail, "That means we'll have to wing it."

Tailmon glanced at Veemon. "First things first, we need to find out **where we are**, then get directions for the Sixth Gate."

"Hope they include something way, _waaaay_ faster and **sneakier** than a flying sphinx," the dragon muttered. "I only have 65 bullets on me, tops." Three of his eight pouches carried two ten-round magazines, Chris had replaced the fourth with his DITE, and the fifth was now empty, devoid of all the C4 that could fit in it when stretched to its limits. The gun on hand carried the last clip, of which five bullets had already been spent.

"Subtract fifteen and you've got mine," replied Hikari. She sent a smile Tailmon's way. "At least I've got my partner for backup."

The blue dragon's silence brought forward some tension. Veemon's jealousy was laid bare through this utterance alone, and he couldn't help feeling rather envious of the closeness Hikari had with Tailmon. The desire for Daisuke Motomiya resurfaced, only to be tempered by the stinging memory of that day three years ago. Memories of Christopher's betrayal flashed between his eyes, strengthening the hot indignation spiraling underneath his blue skin. His cheeks reddened at the embarrassment of ever trusting the man to rescue his human half.

These emotions showed on Veemon's muzzle for a few seconds, before he suppressed them once again. This wasn't the time to be weak. This wasn't the time to be pitiful, and to wallow in misery. This was the time to take action. To rescue Taichi Yagami and, he hoped against hope, learn something about Daisuke and what horrors the Digital Suppression Initiative must have done to him.

He edged around the corner again. "Excuse me," he said, gently pushing the Child of Light behind him. Crimson orbs peered across the hall, scrutinizing the opaque domes dotting the ceiling. All were visible. Their glass shielding did not seem sturdy, as though made by a typical contractor. The .357 SIG rounds in his pistol could take them on.

Was it a good idea to take them out? Won't they potentially alert security?

"It's already too late for that," Tailmon uttered out of the blue. Veemon glanced at her. A look of surprise evident on him. Was she _that _observant, to detect the roots of his hesitation in the first place?

Amazing.

"You shot down the cameras in this room, right?"

He nodded.

"I don't know why security hasn't sent a team our way yet, but **someone will eventually find out**. We can take the corridors down to a place we can find a directory. Find the underground train." Tailmon turned to Hikari. "What do you think?"

"You're assuming the tunnels span across the M&A Wing," her partner ruminated. "The _Digidestined _doesn't know anything about the facility layout, so we'll be **very** lucky if that's true. We could take it to this 'Sixth Gate' brother's held at."

"And if it doesn't?" Veemon supplied.

"_Maybe_ there's no security system in there."

"At the very least," Tailmon supported, "it's out of the way for patrols and we can duck into utility rooms if they have the train up and running."

The blue dragon gasped. "**This** late?"

"You never know."

"That's right!" He stuck his tongue out as laughter frothed from his muzzle. A habit he gained over the years, something Daisuke blamed on some girl crushing on him. "The Digimon of Miracles clung to the wall and brought out the SIG P239. "So, we're doing this?"

The junior Yagami assented. "Yes."

With that word, the DSI Infiltration had truly begun for them. Veemon found it easy to shoot the cameras down. He stepped out of cover and took aim, emptying the magazine inside within the next minute. Excessive caution did not color his stance, for his marksmanship had been cultivated to the extent it didn't matter.

The passages were mostly solid concrete. It had to be so, to withstand the enormous pressure of the earth weighing down on this subterranean facility. Solid grates along the sides suggested the architecture of each tunnel was slightly sophisticated, requiring enough working space for wires, piping, and all those finer details needed to run a facility as large as the rumors made out the Military and Administration Wing to be.

_Their_ roles were clear. Hikari Yagami was the de facto leader for this group, filling in for the ex-ambassador whose exploits, whose sheer talent, whose legacy cast a long shadow upon her. Of the two digimon with her, Tailmon was the more perceptive. Her Adult status notwithstanding, the cat was not only naturally inclined to detection but her body had also been conditioned to utilize it to its full potential.

On the other hand, Veemon had everything to be the perfect point man. The dragon digimon had in his possession the same affinity for sight, hearing, and those forms of discernment denied to humankind Tailmon herself owned. What set him apart was his training. His _upbringing_.

He was paired with Daisuke, an intuitive leader that took after Taichi, recklessness and all. Taking point was not new to him, not when Motomiya was guilty of it so many times it was a bad habit. There was also the fact he had been clearly trained to use firearms, something anyone could figure out was developed to compensate for his pure inclination to close quarters.

The corridor ended where Hikari said it did; it left them with the choice of left or right. Veemon noticed instantly the wider berth of this passage. The supporting columns of reinforced concrete every fifty meters divided the hall into two halves. Each was large enough for a military vehicle to pass through, or possibly an Adult digimon of moderate size. Something along the sizes of ExVeemon and Stingmon, not lumbering giants like Ankylamon and Greymon. (Well, the latter _might_ fit, but it'd be quite snug.)

Now and then at least two to three halls branched out from this massive tunnel. It was impossible not to notice this, even from this distance. The blue dragon presumed they led to other rooms. Sleeping quarters and barracks for the soldiers, perhaps? Maybe a break room for the administrative workers? It could even be a utility room, a rest room, or a few restaurants.

The possibilities were countless. But Veemon knew they'd be lucky to find an armory. He needed something better than his SIG P239 and Hikari needed a real gun, not a clay peashooter running on nonlethal bullets.

Both worlds were at stake again, but this time the threat came from humanity. Not evil monsters mystified by the allure of tyranny or nihilism. And they were losing. The Twelve were _losing_. What was Hikari thinking, bringing nonlethal rounds to a mission that going to be anything **but** nonlethal should they somehow wake the sleeping beast? Whether or not she was as uncomfortable as he was with snuffing out a human life, it was always better—more convenient—to have the actual choice of crossing the line.

Was she scared that the crossing was permanent? That the instant she did so, Hikari would have become a changed woman?

Veemon crossed the line only once, but that wasn't stopping the dragon from doing everything he could to preserve himself and his aversion to the act. Persons were not defined solely by actions. They were shaped, too, by their motivations. Their fundamental option. The stance they had taken towards life itself.

"Which way?" the Digimon of Miracles asked the Chosen Child. His opinion wasn't voiced so much as it was screaming through his body language. He was edging to the right, his snout inching the corner, half-waiting for Hikari's affirmation and half-succumbing to his gut instinct. He was being urged to turn right and follow the wider path to the end, regardless of those six-man patrols and security cameras.

"I'm not too sure," Yagami answered back. Her voice was shaky, tainted with the demons of doubt. She almost seemed hesitant to give an answer. Had she, perhaps, realized the enormous pressure of the Digital and Real Worlds weighing down on their shoulders? The _crippling_ responsibility borne by Taichi and Daisuke before her? Or was she afraid of the uncertainty, of the life-damning consequences of a mistake?

For the first time in her life, the challenges of leadership manifested itself in this single choice. To the left or to the right? To their destruction or their salvation? Oh, the choices! And there was so little time: they had to **move** as fast as possible, lest a patrol catch them stacking up along the corner…

Hikari wore a thoughtful expression. Suddenly the floor became so much more interesting, and the woman appeared to space out, her eyes unfocused, her guard dropping as though she had all the time in the world to cogitate on the choice spread out before her like the Gates of Hell.

In the end, the adult made her decision. "Let's head right," she articulated, right before either Veemon or Tailmon had enough with the fidgeting and compel her to act. The blue dragon would never learn how his eagerness affected her selection. She trusted **his** instincts here, believed in **his** passive ability to attract luck, and hoped **his** partnership with Daisuke Motomiya had given birth to intuition just as good.

Going left would have been the worst choice for them, for the passage led to the elevators heading up to the M&A Tower, the looming skyscraper the Child of Courage attempted to breach the other night. Not only did it lead to a _dead end_, but the DSI patrol presently there presaged a violent and ruinous confrontation at the First Hub, destined to end almost as quickly as it begun. Its aftermath, indescribable. Perhaps cataclysmic, considering the people involved in this mission.

Whether such fortune could be attributed to Veemon's dumb luck or his inheritance of Daisuke's "gut feelings" was impossible to determine.

"Any cameras out there?"

"Yeah," Veemon nodded. "Not as much as the hall we came out of, but there's enough to cover the place."

"Can we sneak past them?"

The dragon deflated. "Not really. Errr, we have those columns over there"—he thrust an index finger at the support pillar thirty meters ahead.—"Concrete. Very thick. Like giant tree trunks! We can hide behind 'em, mmmmaybe, but they're not too many and, uhm, we've got those guards to deal with…

"Can you shoot—

Tailmon shook her head at this one. "More human activity along this route. They'll _definitely_ notice something out of order."

"Something out of order, huh." Veemon thought back to the security cams he shot down at the Digital Dive System's main chamber, and the corridor leading away from it. He revisited his encounter with Kurata Akihiro, whose suspicion rose simply because the blue dragon failed to clean up after himself. The four cameras had fallen to the floor in pieces, and he had a sinking feeling the Head Scientist would discover his deeds anyway from the empty .357 cartridges his shots left behind.

The blue dragon captured this insight without difficulty. Eager to get this operation going, he relayed his theory in five words. "Because of the scrap metal?"

"Mhm," she hummed. "I've been watching you work, and it's not completely clean."

"Is there any way we can get rid of the debris then?" her human half questioned.

"Bash the cameras in! _Or_, we can swipe them right off their ports and chuck 'em into the trash." Then a sheepish rictus formed along Veemon's muzzle. His eyes were shut tight; clearly he found his answer embarrassing. Cute, someone else might say, but it didn't do anything to alleviate their problems. "But, uhhhmmm, I'm not built for this. My feet aren't **that** quick." The ceiling seemed pretty far from the floor, too. "And I don't think I can jump _that_ high…"

_But Christopher's was_.

The Digimon of Miracles hated that little voice in his head. It always took the opportunity to thrust a sharp knife in his gut and twist it until some dark feeling oozed out of the wound. He didn't feed the thought a lot of attention, yet Veemon never denied he was envious of the power brandished by the blond. Sometimes the Chosen wished Hikari had that power for herself, he wasn't so damn useless without Daisuke by his side, or that Chris shared his altruism.

_Stop reminding me._

Now it was Tailmon's turn to grin. "_Mine_ are." She clenched and unclenched her paws, flexing her fingers. "I can take care of that."

Hikari brightened at her partner's initiative. Her gaze fell on a garbage bin close to one of the other corridors ahead. "We can throw the cams in there."

Tailmon walked to her fellow Chosen. Her long, striped tail moved with a single wag. "Veemon, can you spot for me?"

One nod cinched the deal. No words needed to be said. Afterwards, Veemon walked to the corner and marked a couple cameras close to the support pillar ahead.

The Digimon of Light didn't bother with an acknowledgement. Without uttering a word, the cat fell on all fours and sprinted, her Adult status giving all the power and speed she required. Tailmon was light on her feet, pushing forward without a sound. Like a lioness in Africa, ambling to her prey, undetected until the last second. Her furred body blurred from the speed of her approach, and Veemon's scarlet eyes widened in awe when he watched her leapt to the wall, ricocheting off it without wasting any of her velocity. Her paws were outstretched and with one swipe she sent the camera flying towards the support pillar.

She had done the same for the second camera.

In the meantime, Veemon fell on all fours as she did and galloped to the first pillar out of many to come. The Chosen noticed the heaviness he usually bore was not as ostensible, and to his surprise he was silent—_relatively_ speaking. His footsteps were no different from the sound of feet and nails of a small dog scrambling across the floor. Nonetheless, an impressive feat considering his footfalls normally felt and sounded like massive boots marching along a dilapidated wooden floor.

Hikari crouched and trailed after him. Veemon had the speed and the dampened noise, and it was only the latter the Child of Light shared with him. She was the slowest, and not exactly the most quiet. But she had given this infiltration her all and would continue to do so. It was a thirty meter travel, but somehow the woman managed it.

It was enough.

"Not sensing anyone close," Tailmon reported on her return.

"Gotcha," Veemon accepted. "Cleaning up now." The childish enthusiasm he exhibited not so long ago yielded for the expression of experienced professionalism. The atmosphere of their operation necessitated it, and without a single complaint from the blue dragon the two cameras were scooped up from the floor and thrown into the garbage receptacle.

Without skipping a beat, the roles were reversed. The transition was seamless. No longer did Veemon take point for the group, inching ahead, meter by meter, and shooting down cameras from afar. Now he was Tailmon's spotter and the rearguard rolled into one. As the trio passed from one column to another, they slipped into a mechanical routine.

For every succeeding column, Veemon peered around for any cameras in plain sight. He'd mark them, tag them such that Tailmon glimpsed them after fifteen seconds' notice. Mindful of the necessity of stealth, the Digimon of Miracles deliberately restrained his voice. He shackled his rambunctious, inner child and maintained the air of a seasoned veteran. As soon as the feline left to perform her duty, so did he remain and stay alert. Veemon focused his ears to capture sounds as far back as a few hundred meters. He concentrated, making sure he caught and mentally flagged anything other than the apprehensive breathing of Hikari Yagami, the soft footfalls of her shoes, the delicate scuffling of Tailmon's pads, and the booming sound of an infrared camera being ripped from its wires and severed from its foundation. Every dislocation reverberated with the heavy echo of a bass drum. It announced every window of opportunity they have to make a break for it, but it also announced their presence to those tasked to provide security.

Hikari Yagami was often the last to follow. She was also the one left to clean up, picking up the few cameras Tailmon severed every so often and dumped the debris into a nearby trash can. There were plenty of them, and the responsibility to keep their trail clean relieved her anxiety somewhat. The Child of Light did not talk much either, for she too, knew the consequences of discovery as much as Veemon did. As much as Tailmon did.

As with any venture in life, as with any streak of fortune, Veemon's impeccable luck only lasted for so long.

The first patrol they encountered nearly found them. They came rushing as soon as Tailmon's sixteenth camera had been taken out. It generated a loud **smash**, and the raucous noise was easily heard meters away. Hikari Yagami's breath almost stopped when she heard the footsteps of the six soldiers. Veemon detected the hastening of her heartbeat, and he could only imagine the terror gripping Taichi's younger sister.

"What the?"

Tailmon was quick on her feet. She finished Hikari's cleanup duty for her, before any of the DSI patrolmen perceived the debris. The Digimon of Light retreated to their hideaway and stuck her petite body to the wall. A small piece of metal fell from her forepaw, probably a direct consequence of her haste. She held Veemon by the wrist and Hikari by the hand, the latter she rubbed vigorously. An honorable effort to alleviate her uneasiness. Once the blue dragon felt the sweat permeating her paw pads, he too realized it was too close. Almost too close. A few more seconds and they could've been discovered.

"Over here, it came from over here!"

"See anything?"

The six cocked their firearms. Each weapon announced their readiness through a sharp, distinct _click_. Hikari jolted from the sound, and Tailmon did everything in her power to keep her human half as silent as possible. Veemon jerked as well, but this wasn't the first time he fought human soldiers. This was not the first time he faced the Digital Suppression Initiative in combat. He'd taken out six before on his own, armed only with his SIG P239 and ample amounts of cover around.

He gulped. An actual confrontation here wasn't going to be the same as the mountainside of the Spire of Courage or the shoreline of Coela Beach. Space was scarce and cover was limited to one column and, a little ways off, the corners of the narrower halls connecting with this passage.

"Spread out. Whatever it is, I don't think it's far."

The DSI guardsmen's footsteps were slow. They were careful. Wary of the unusual. No doubt the first person to catch them would shoot first, perhaps not to kill but to debilitate. To cripple and render all forms of evasion and escape impossible.

"What's on your mind, sir?"

"I don't know. It could be anything." A deep breath. "An infiltrator, at worst."

"In _here_?" Incredulously, "In Military and Administration?"

"You read the briefing yesterday, didn't you? We've got under **our **custody one of the most wanted men in history. Heard he's a tough nut to crack. Not sure what the brass has in store for him, but I've heard they might fly someone in from the CIA in a few days."

"The CIA? Really?"

One of the soldiers was closing in on them. Veemon could tell from the footsteps, from the dull taste of the assault rifle dirtying the recycled air they all breathed.

"They're great at what they do. The Iraq War's seen to that."

A third soldier released an exasperated sigh. "Sir, this has **got** to be a prank."

Seconds of silence. "We repelled the Digidestined's invasion the other night. They couldn't have regrouped **that **fast.

"Besides, security here can't be any tighter than my _asshole_. Sir."

A chuckle. "You're smart, kid. But better safe than sorry…"

Veemon's eyes noticed the shining metal lying innocuously in front of his foot. The squad captain was intent on sweeping the area. Standing still, doing **absolutely nothing** was not going to help them at all. It was like waiting for death to come and embrace them. Like watching all their efforts unravel in slow motion, leading to a giant explosion of chaos as soon as the knots were untied and the truth within in display for all to view.

_Only one way out of this_.

The Digimon of Miracles leaned down—to Tailmon's shock—seized the piece of metal and aimed for the farthest hallway he could see. Harmonious Ones don't let him down now! He powered his arm with as much strength as he could and, concentrating to the best of his ability, chucked the metal to his target.

Bells and chimes tinkled the moment it landed, as though declaring "COME AND GET SOME!" to everyone within hearing range. Every footstep around them ceased; even the speculations of the squad captain and two of his charges lapsed into pure and utter silence.

A few tense seconds passed.

One…

Two…

"Over there!"

"Follow it!"

"Check the doors!"

"Hey! Don't go ru—sir?"

"They're frustrated from the boredom. Let them be. "

Four men, clad in imposing BDU's, the uniforms a light camouflage gray, rushed from the sides and, without looking back, made their way for the hallway to investigate the noise. The other two calmly followed, staying far back enough to keep an eye out on their surroundings.

"_We're_ covering the hall."

Tailmon's acute senses detected immediately their approach. The white cat sighed in relief and veered left. They took the opposite side the remaining two patrolmen did and, considerate of Hikari's slow speed, went straight to the one of the hallways ahead. Behind the squad of six, where they could hopefully wait until they moved on.

Moved on they eventually did. While they waited, the only human in their group seized Tailmon and squeezed her tight, releasing a long breath. Hikari had been terrified. She wasn't ready to deal with human enemies yet. Not yet. She hasn't come to terms with it and—

"It's okay," the Digimon of Light consoled her. "It's okay to feel that way."

"I don't think I can do it, Tailmon. Th-they, they—

"Don't worry about that. Just focus on _Taichi_, Hikari," the cat gently whispered in reply. "I'll take care of the rest."

Veemon observed them both. A frown on his muzzle. More or less unnoticeable, but a frown nonetheless. The more he watched, the more his uncertain expression twitched and betrayed him, revealing the displeasure he hid from them both. He didn't like where their exchange was going, but for now he kept his thoughts to himself.

Because right now he wanted to just **go**. To keep walking forward. To proceed with their mission. They had to rescue Taichi. **He **had to find out _anything _about Daisuke. For their sake, the blue dragon prayed such intimacy between Hikari and her partner wouldn't conclude with something he deemed familiar.

"C'mon," said Veemon. He stacked up on the corner and beckoned both human and cat to follow.

They settled into their routine once again. Twenty more cameras brought them close to the end of the vast passageway. Upon visual confirmation of the opening, it was clear the path led to a wide, open space. Just how wide was something they did not discover until later. Still, anything was better than the massive tunnel they were sneaking through.

But twenty more cameras brought them to another DSI patrol as well. This time, they did not have the luxury of loose scrap metal to distract the guardsmen with. This time, they not only heard the rumbling of the cameras' dislocation but also discerned Tailmon's movements from a distance.

"A SCAI! A f*cking SCAI!"

"It just **destroyed** the camera!"

Elusion was not the option this time around. Their stealth was abandoned. They sprinted back the way they came, feet moving as fast as possible.

"And it's **not** alone! Sounds like it's got two others with it."

"Got a visual?"

"Just the first one, ma'am. Looked like a _giant cat_. "

"Catch them."

Several footsteps dashed in pursuit. One, however, remained behind. "_Catch_ them? Let's just **kill** the little shits."

"Wild Ones marked for processing sometimes escape their cages. Admin will _roast _our asses if we…"

The words were audible no longer; they were not in hearing range anymore but the blue dragon had heard enough. Thank the Four Gods neither Hikari nor himself were caught in plain sight. That's all that mattered, for so long as the DSI thought they were dealing with three wayward digimon, not a small team of Chosen, then there was little reason for them to alert the entire base.

Nonetheless they needed to escape the main tunnel. The passage was long and with little obstruction. Not a good idea to run. Veemon set his eyes on a hallway on the left, coming up in three meters.

"Over there!" Veemon thrust his hand in its direction. "Maybe there's a room we can hide in!"

_Two._

"Anything's fine by me," replied Tailmon. She turned back to look at her human half and snarled at her sluggishness. Hikari barely kept up. The limitations of the human body were truly a source of great frustration. "Just be quick about it before they see her!"

_One._

He reached into his baldric and opened _that_ pouch. The same one containing Christopher's parting gift to the blue dragon. Blue hands found the collapsed spatha easily, but that **wasn't** what he was looking for. He dug around, sticking his tongue out while frantically rummaging through the pocket. Veemon couldn't afford slowing down and going through the pocket thoroughly. They were in a hurry, and they needed to find something, **fast**.

"Awwwwww," the dragon whined. "I really _shouldn't_ have put it in here!"

Several doors already greeted the Chosen from both sides when he sprinted into the narrow corridor. In his haste he passed quite a few of them, yet he kept on going, refusing to go into even one until—

FWUP.

He pulled out a card as azure as his skin bearing the name and photograph of Dr. Kurata Akihiro, PhD. Thick and stiff, he knew it was an RFID card. All the doors he passed, except the toilets, had card readers beside them. Unauthorized entry would be flagged immediately by whoever's keeping an eye on the M&A Wing's security, but the dragon digimon had the perfect answer to _that_.

"Haha!" Veemon's muzzle broke into a grin. _We're getting away._ He stopped at the very next door he came across and, with Kurata's access card, gave the reader a light tap. As soon as he did, a red light on the tiny machine turned green, the new coloration simultaneous with the faint sound of the door unlocking, providing safety to the digimon and his two friends.

He seized the knob, twisted it, and swung the whole thing open, stomping in without glancing at the contents of the room. Thanks to his peripheral vision, all he knew was its decent size. As big as the Motomiya's first apartment back in Odaiba, where his family had a hilarious, digimon-phobic businessman for a neighbor.

The three of them could hide here.

Tailmon and Hikari came in after him exactly four seconds later. Seeing the happy, comforted smiles on their faces confirmed it.

They could **definitely **hide in here.

* * *

If there was something mankind had gotten _consistently _right from their obsessive analyses of the digital monsters, it must be the perdurable fact they were no different from weapons of mass destruction. These were living, breathing organisms that had the ability to lay waste to the world around them and downgrade humanity into a source of energy, whether as food or living batteries.

Many found this prospect chilling, precisely because humans had dominated Earth for years—for _centuries_. The Digital Suppression Initiative, on the day of its incorporation, was celebrated throughout the world as a defender of Man, a widely-respected regulator of the so-called Self-Conscious Artificial Intelligences thriving in the modern world today.

Men and women laid down their lives for the DSI, ascribing to their service an honor beyond that of mere patriotism. Selfless, philanthropic, and courageous, they believed they advanced the interests of their species, paved the road towards a utopian ideal.

Most would never see this ideal become reality, if it ever followed through at all. SCAI's were ferocious combatants. Multiple times stronger than humans. Much more resilient to firearms. Even with the best technology has to offer, scores would die just to bring one down.

The battle tonight was no different. Although the DSI had only _one target_ in their midst, performing all sorts of aerial maneuvers to minimize damage, this SCAI had evolved directly from the Adult level. It might not have been a Perfect class, but the power brandished throughout the combat struck a working midpoint between the two strata.

Casualties were sure to fill the records. Nefertimon was a fierce opponent to face. The DSI soldiers who engaged the Chosen in combat did not expect to escape this dire situation alive. They took it on with the full knowledge she could—and she obviously would—kill them whenever possible. Prepared for death, they fought like they had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Among those who **did** survive tonight, many of them met in bars, in nightclubs, in restaurants, in conferences and events—in just about any way a person could meet another. Internet sites such as Facebook or Meetup were not and would never be the main instruments to meet new friends and rekindle old relationships. These people swapped stories, their emotions drowned by alcohol yet their memories no less enfeebled than it had been before the drink was even downed.

Such stories described this battle not as pandemonium, not as a state of constant volatility, but rather, a surreal kaleidoscope of colors. The fighting seemed almost dream-like in light of the technology the Digital Suppression Initiative employed in their arsenal. Gemstones shot out of Nefertimon's arms, one after another. For every five bullets sent her way, the Digital Suppression Initiative received six. Rays of light shot out her headdress, streaming randomly towards any target unfortunate enough to be caught in her sights. There was also the occasional tablet of the densest stone, usually directed to slow or immobile weaponry.

The steel mask concealed the digimon's eyes. A plus for the human and digimon straddling her back, doing their best to hold on. But it was the only advantage they had going for them, for the DSI had surrounded them on all sides. Weapons were being unloaded on the flying sphinx. Missiles whizzed past the airborne bodies. They drew in 40mm grenades and hundreds of 7.62mm bullets from the FM TALON drones positioned on each mezzanine level, and Nefertimon had roughly fifteen to contend with, all hidden behind _Light Screens_ and shielded further by a thick coat of Lockheed Martin's chemicals.

Each bullet fired by the drones was fitted with Fatigue Alloy, the shells shaped specifically for armor penetration. Although the Digimon of Light was, in her current state, no different from a weak Perfect level, little by little the bullets chipped away at her body. Blood dripped slowly from her body, disintegrating into particles of data when they slipped away and dropped in midair. Wounds were forming soon, and all the soldiers knew it was only a matter of time before the programming embedded within the Fatigue Bullets kicked in.

The guardsmen were equipped with FN FAL's. The DSI's standard assault rifle, armed with either hollow-point rounds or an attachment that, through some obscure science none of the soldiers would ever understand—or _care_ to understand—electrified every shot and imbued it with the fearsome power of lightning.

They directed their weapons not only on the flying sphinx, but also the two passengers she carried. They opened fire, pulling the trigger so many times there was no real difference between burst-fire and full-auto. Yet by some miracle neither the woman nor the dragon were hit. Nefertimon was a dancer, weaving and twisting through the air whilst responding to every single attack thrown at her with many of her own.

Anyone she missed, Veemon handled. Whoever showed him how to use a gun had taught him well. His accuracy was impeccable, for her colleague landed hits far more often than what would be expected from someone in his position. That person should be proud of his protégé.

Daisuke would have been proud of him too. Nefertimon's human half had frozen from the tension, from the numbing stress of their predicament, despite the blue dragon's warm encouragements. Veemon could no longer wait. "Ooooooo-kay, we're getting out of here!"

"There's too _many_!"

"And there're **plenty** of exits. Look for the one with the least people!"

Yet the one who must feel the most pride should be none other than Taichi Yagami himself.

"I'm… I'm starting to get tired…"

"W, wha—B, but how—

"I don't know. For some reason **everything** I do's starting to use up more energy…"

"_Really?_ Just keep looking. Keep dodgi"—a yelp.—"Whoa, that was close!"

Hikari Yagami, still slumped on Nefertimon's back, from either the blazing agony of electrocution or the frigid paralysis of inexperience, stirred to life. Gradually, if not surely, life was returning to her. She pounded on the walls she erected since the day Takeru died, since Daisuke vanished from the face of the Earth. She chiseled away at them, operating on the gnashing of teeth and the trembling of her fingers. She operated on sheer **will** alone, grumbling and moaning until the woman's eyes flapped open, their gaze beholding the scene unfolding beyond.

"URP! Nefertimon, not **too** hard! I almost lost it."

"'_Losing it_' is a lot better than deletion!"

Coquelicot eyes peered across, above, and below as she and her dragonic passenger rode the dancing sphinx. They overlooked the Digimon of Miracles, whose unfamiliarity with the more aggressive, the more forceful movements of Hikari's digital half made him sick. For a second, she perceived a slight green tinge on his white muzzle. On it was an expression normally made by someone on the verge of vomiting, or at least, fainting from nausea and airsickness.

For a moment, Hikari sympathized with him: Veemon had been subjected to the forces of gravity **only** in his higher forms. _Never_ in his Child level. That he held on was admirable. A clear mark of his determination to reunite with Daisuke. To save him, wherever he was. Motomiya would be touched by Veemon's devotion and resolve. He might even be awed at the way he redirected all the pain and anguish from the betrayal by Christopher Van Numen towards the fulfillment of his goal, of his dream, of the only reason he went to the Real World in the first place.

The Child of Light did not have this problem. She and Nefertimon had practiced rapid, swift, and disorienting acrobatics of this nature in the past. Hikari remembered a special day from the short years of the Golden Age. She remembered a day when she and her significant other visited the Digital World for no reason at all, enjoying it instead of saving it as the heroes they were _destined_ to be. They flew those clear, starry skies above File Island. Above the Server Continent.

Takeru and Hikari. Pegasmon and Nefertimon. Only the four of them.

Veemon had wanted to accompany them too. To take his surrogate brother out and steal him away from a high school girl he was dating at the time. He was already growing possessive of his partner, she noticed. It was an understandable sentiment for any digimon in his position. Yet both Takeru and Patamon dissuaded his enthusiasm, knowing full well Daisuke might feel awkward being the third wheel during what, in retrospect, turned into a romantic date.

That day taught Hikari the thrills and joys of a flying partner, something few of the other Chosen Children could ever have in the absence of some threat to the two worlds. Taichi, for one, wasn't about to drag Agumon all the way to the Digital World one afternoon so he could evolve to his Perfect or Ultimate level and entertain the Child of Courage on his back. Considering the amount of energy evolution itself consumed, that simply wasn't fair.

She remembered sneaking out of the Core Group's quarters in the middle of the night. Hikari and Nefertimon would take one of the more spacious caverns many of the liberated digimon and novice tamers used for training. All it took was a couple words to induce an Armor Evolution from Tailmon. Then off they went, twirling and twisting in the air as though transforming the entire space into one giant stage.

Each movement was like one _massive_ ballet in the making.

"Nefertimon," Hikari enunciated through the veil of rapid gunfire, whizzing bullets, thunderous explosions, and the curses of every man around them. She pointed her finger at the top level. "Head up there and shut the openings."

A plan was formulating in Hikari's mind. In this situation, it was the only one she could think of other than revealing her trump card and demanding Angewomon to wipe out all opposition. Killing fellow human beings… no, she wasn't ready for that. She couldn't handle it now. The Child of Light had yet to come to terms with it and she hoped she could defer it for now, as much as she detested the injustice of Nefertimon shouldering all the culpability herself.

"What?" Veemon exclaimed. "No, we can't! We won't get any closer to Taichi if we stay—

Nefertimon obeyed her surrogate sister. "CURSE OF THE QUEEN!" Another laser was cast from her steel facemask, and this time the Digimon of Light whipped her head around as though she had three feet on hair flowing down her head. Her body swiveled with it, sending the beam all around.

Veemon's protests were cut off. Rendered silent by the sudden velocity. "Trust her," the sphinx inserted, flapping her battered wings for a swift and abrupt rise in altitude.

"But—

"She's** my **partner, Veemon! "

Hikari's voice sliced their argument apart. "Uh, get… get on the fifth level! W-we can't stay out in the open." Although it shook and didn't seem to confide the smooth confidence of her older brother, or Veemon's partner, the 21-year-old mustered enough conviction for the blue dragon to have faith in Nefertimon, simmer down, and listen to his colleague's human half.

Somehow the white sphinx landed gracefully on the Second Hub's top floor. She swatted another FM TALON away and it crashed into a nearby Starbucks, ravaging the countertops and the coffee machines. A three-round burst from Veemon's FN FAL crippled a guardsman stunned by Nefertimon's sudden landing before he regained his composure and backed off.

Another, much closer than the latter, whipped out his pistol and opened fi—Veemon was faster. He brought the soles of his feet on Nefertimon's powerful hind legs and sprung forward, his head aimed straight for the man's face. "VEE HEADBUTT!"

Veemon's attack crushed the handgun. The speed of his leap, the close proximity of his target, and the great density of his bones all contributed to **breaking** both the soldier's arms _and_ knocking him out cold as Veemon proceeded onward to a solid blow to the man's nose. _He_ wasn't getting up anytime soon. Not when he was most likely to wake up with a cracked skull **at best**.

Scarlet eyes fell on a bulging combat vest, its color a darker shade of grey but nonetheless splashed with camouflage patterns made specifically for urban environments. The dragon digimon knelt down and spent exactly three seconds looting the pockets for five 7.62mm clips for his assault rifle. "You won't need _these_ anymore."

Just three soldiers out of so **many** more.

Veemon was right about one thing. They needed to escape, and they needed to exit through the passage least populated with soldiers and other backup reinforcements. The only problem with _his _plan rested on the assumption Nefertimon could dodge or absorb the DSI's attacks for a long enough time. That may have been valid if they were dealing with the JSDF, or with any of the world's armed forces, provided the Digital Suppression Initiative was not around to hand them anti-digimon technology on a silver platter.

The Digimon of Miracles had the experience fighting humans trained for combat, that much was clear. Yet he obviously had no clue what horrors the DSI developed during the two years they existed, aside from what little he had been exposed to in the Digital World.

"Veemon," the Chosen Child called. Veemon stared back at her, with those wide scarlet eyes. He did not say a word, though she had his full attention. "I'll help you look for an exit. I know **you** suggested this, but you're a _way_ better shooter than I am and you've got your priorities tied—

"Yeeeeeeeyyyy!" A cute grin formed on his muzzle. "That's all I wanted to hear."

* * *

If the three infiltrators were not burdened by the heavy stakes involved in this mission, they would have found the temptation to put it on hold impossible to resist. The refuge Veemon led Tailmon and her partner turned out to be a break room reserved for employees, soldiers, and other personnel working for the Digital Suppression Initiative.

As soon as the door was closed, Hikari and the two digimon accompanying her hid behind an assortment of furniture and fixtures. Veemon stacked up behind the door, gripping the handgun in his hands. Tailmon, after dismantling the only infrared camera in the room, leapt up and above the cabinets on the wall, positioning herself on top for a surprise attack should any of the DSI patrolmen follow them in.

The Child of Light herself vaulted over the couch in the center of the large room, out of sight. She drew her own handgun, her hands shaking from fear. Fear of being a killer. Fear of turning into the same person Taichi Yagami revealed he had become when he knocked her out cold with a fierce, unexpected punch to the solar plexus. Hikari forgot her firearm was loaded with nonlethal rounds, yet to her the two were one and the same. Bullets were bullets, so to speak. They were made to harm, to maim, to kill. They were made to hurt someone, to overpower another and "persuade" the opponent to surrender.

It didn't matter who was fighting, and for what. All those platitudes and philosophical speak were nothing more but deferrals—mere distractions from the uneasy subject Hikari never wanted to confront. It was a great irony, given her position as a Chosen Child and her experience as a seasoned veteran member of the Twelve.

The next ten—fifteen—_twenty _seconds were tense. Terrifying. By the ninth second, footsteps and shouting reverberated from the door. The DSI soldiers stood right outside, seeking out what they thought was a small group of escapees led by a white cat twice as big for a normal feline from the Real World.

"Where'd they go?"

"I don't know! But I _swear_, I heard them going this way."

"Maybe they're in one of the rooms."

A distinct **click** resounded across the break room. Waves of apprehension and anxiety smothered whatever calm the Child of Light managed to recover in the few seconds the group had for respite. It was the sound of a lock, disengaging from its most secure position. Everyone froze.

The sound came from **their** door frame. From **their** hiding place. All they needed for chaos and pandemonium to break loose was for the DSI patrolman to walk himself in. Surely the others _watching _him at this point kept—or at least had some sort of epiphany—a cautious eye on him. That way, if he ever got taken down by a digimon on par with Tailmon, he'd have reinforcements to back him up. They watched the knob twist, providing further access to the soldiers on the other side.

"That's _impossible_," interjected the first speaker. He disrupted his colleague's attempt to open the door to the break room and went straight to the answer of the question he himself once asked. "Other than toilets, **every** door here is locked and inaccessible without an RFID card."

"SCAI's are smart enough to figure _that_ out. One of those things could've swiped some cards!"

"_That_ would be reported to the ODC immediately. **And**," came the emphasis as though cutting off the other speaker, "**even if** people were taken down for an RFID card, patrol groups pass most areas every fifteen to twenty minutes. Missing persons **will** be found."

A pause.

"Give me a break! I keep _telling _you, ODC nerds **aren't** reliable. Algos do all the work for them so they can effing **SLEEP **on the job instead of doing _real_ work, and I swear, they're slowly taking over everything, and it all begun with the Vice-Chair!"

"Yeah, yeah," dismissed the other. "I've heard the rumors—

"You two!" The voice of the female squad leader interrupted. Her holler came from a distance. Hikari could barely pick up her voice. _Perhaps she was close to the main passage._ "Shut it and check the other corridors! One of the SCAI _might_ have misled you there. I'm checking in with the ODC."

"Yes, ma'am!"

They left the door alone. Hikari waited for a few more seconds before holstering her own weapon—relaxing her guard. All the tension those two generated left her shoulders when she exhaled all of it away, replacing the anxiety with sweet relief coursing through her veins. With as much grace as a sleek predator, Tailmon jumped down the cabinets. "That was close," said the white cat. She held her partner's hand, the paw's clutch tight. Hikari felt the sweat on her soft pads. Tailmon had been just as nervous. "You okay?"

"Y, yeah."

"That was **too** close if you ask me!" added Veemon. He was returning his gun to its holster. "I almost _yelped _when the knob turned." Hikari was unsettled by the nylon baldric he wore—probably because she had never seen him wear any sort of clothing—but relaying this discomfort was unnecessary. The Digimon of Miracles had to adapt to his, special circumstances, after all. "At least _that_'s over."

_For now_, the junior Yagami thought in reply. They all had to go eventually.

Wanting to distract herself from this eventuality, Hikari's gaze settled on Veemon. She watched his natural curiosity resurface as soon as the strain of the near-discovery faded away. Scarlet eyes, heavy three-toed feet, and those blue hands and their stubby, useless little claws moved across the room, seeking items of interest like a heat-seeking missile.

His steps were slow, allowing him to probe every nook and cranny with the inquisitiveness of a child. Veemon's muzzle did not bear any expression, yet Hikari figured there was one question lingering on his tongue. One his curiosity compelled him to bury for the moment: _So what now?_

Tailmon started on the very same. If there was truly a difference between the two, it would be the fact her partner, her surrogate sister, moved with purpose. Her footsteps were light and quick, as were her padded paws. Rather than aimlessly wandering in search of anything interesting, her cerulean eyes darted left and right for anything of utility. "Maybe there's something useful here, Hikari. This looks like a break room."

It truly was. A Hitachi refrigerator stood in the corner next to ten boxes of K-Cups of various flavors of coffee and tea and a Keurig coffee maker, attached to a water supply line. Hikari could not ignore the microwave on the opposite side. Nor could she ignore the dining table in the very center. The couch she had hidden behind was at the very back, facing not a wall but a fairly large but paper-thin LG OLED TV installed on the wall.

"The ECB is ready to do, **whatever it takes**, to preserve the Euro. And believe me, it will be enough."

For some reason, the television was set to CNN instead of the local news. A political anchor was discussing some kind of crisis unfolding in the European Union, initiated by Greece, exacerbated by other, _larger_ member states, and perpetuated by the stubbornness of the technocrats leading the Union. The stock markets were still rallying, according to the scrolling captions.

"I remember—_everyone_ still remembers the promise Mr. Draghi made last July. Considering how the troika dealt with that mess in Cyprus earlier this March—

"When bank deposits were taxed—

"—it's crystal clear this promise lives on. Yet the markets have underestimated the Europeans' political will and shall continue to do so."

"Because of the uncertainty?"

"Many economists seem to be ignoring the true costs of austerity, and the political implications of the crisis are so profound—

Hikari tuned out whatever the commentators had to say about this. However important the ongoing events in Europe were to the world at large, it had no relevance to their situation. For her, the crisis she had to resolve was her brother's. Secondary to that was Daisuke's, whatever had happened to him, wherever he was right now.

Her gaze panned across the room again. Tailmon was rummaging through one of the many drawers in the room, obviously progressing well with her search. Veemon had stopped completely, his eyes staring at a document posted on a 6' × 5' whiteboard, magnetized in place for all to see.

"Veemon, what're you reading?" the woman asked, stepping closer to get a good look at the printout herself.

"Something about the keycards the DSI's using for security." A small smile on his face. "Looks like we _don't_ have to destroy every camera we come across."

"What do you mean?"

Veemon's gape fell on Yagami. "Read it yourself, Hikari." He ambled sideways, giving the Chosen Child some space. "Check it out, see?"

* * *

_**Digital Suppression Initiative**_

"_The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity"_

_Memorandum concerning Internal IFF System_

_September 23, 2013_

_TO: All DSI personnel, R&D Commuters, and Authorized Employees of Third-Party Contractors_

_FROM: Office of Detection and Containment, Military and Administration Wing, DSI Global, _

_SUBJECT: Implementation of Radio-Frequency Identification_

_Each day, hundreds of people flow through the corridors of the DSI's global headquarters. Scientists, programmers, technical assistants, and other authorized personnel traveling through the Nine Gates are cleared for travel to the Research and Development Wing. Engineers maintain the robustness of our infrastructure and capital equipment. Guards patrol our corridors and, if needed, provide general assistance for our transient population. Our organization outsources many of its auxiliary services to employees of third-party providers._

_With our noble goal of accelerating human progress after the 2002 Digital Revelation in danger from corporate espionage and radical extremists, the Digital Suppression Initiative takes the integrity and resilience of its operations very seriously. Our enemies want to seize our proprietary technology for their own use or destroy it in pursuit of absurd delusions. In order to prevent leakage, sabotage, or covert infiltration, the Office of Detection and Containment is committed to maintaining and improving the security system guarding our organization. _

_The RFID cards we distributed to you last week will be crucial to the October 1, 2013 implementation of a new, state-of-the-art identification system designed and installed by FLIR Systems, Inc. under the oversight of Vice-Chairman Mitsuo Yamaki and Vice Minister of Defense Hironori Kanazawa. Feeds from the thousands of infrared cameras scattered throughout Military and Administration, including our skyscraper, are collected by our computers and analyzed by complex algorithms in real time, by the nanosecond. These algorithms will flag anyone who does not carry an RFID card on their person and alert our people in the Office of Detection and Containment for further action._

_Failure to comply with this requirement will result in penalties appropriate to your past record and personal history, __**up to and including**__ termination of your contract with the Digital Suppression Initiative and any deferred benefits hitherto accrued. We already have procedures in place for the deactivation and replacement of lost RFID cards, which we will promulgate in further detail next week. If you have any concerns over our policies, we encourage you to approach us at the Office of Detection and Containment. _

_SIGNED:_

_Tamotsu Maruyama (Administrator, Office of Detection and Containment, DSI Global)_

_Mitsuo Yamaki (Vice-Chairman, DSI Global)_

* * *

Hikari Yagami backpedaled, shaking her head. The woman quivered from utter fright, appalled at the very words written for her eyes to see. Thousands of infrared cameras, it said. Recording and analyzing **by the nanosecond**, it said. "No way." She couldn't believe this. Since when had computers grown this powerful? How long has humanity been developing this computing power, so terrible in its magnitude and intensity?

"No way."

The implications of these words were enormous. Although Veemon had Kurata's keycard, Hikari and Tailmon did not. Every moment they were caught on camera was recorded. Surely even those Tailmon sprinted to and demolished with the finesse of a professional killer captured her image, even for a scant second or two. The images must have been high quality. Clear, for all in the Office of Detection and Containment to see.

This memorandum spoke of _algorithms_. Automated programs designed _specifically_ for detection and notification. These were far more frightening, for their very existence nullified any hopes of actually succeeding this mission. How many have already been alerted? And by how many times? Does the DSI know their current position? When was Hell going to break loose and, all at once, grind their chances of success to a flat _zero_?

Despite her resurging fear Hikari Yagami felt the skeleton of a plan forming in her head. An adjustment, so to speak, to prevent further detection. Granted, the DSI already knew they were there. Perhaps even **where** they were. However, _they_ were not helpless. They could still get out of this. It wasn't like they were in the middle of a militarized zone under heavy fire from all sides, with all she had to show for being her partner, her nonlethal arms, and a useless dragon with a gun.

The Chosen Child, on instinct, bit her fingernails from the bubbling insecurity within her. "We need those RFID cards," said she.

"Definitely," Daisuke's surrogate brother agreed with her. "If we move anymore without it, we'll **really **be caught quick unless we do **everything** to take down every camera we come across."

"But that's impossible. We won't catch _all _of them either."

"Right. So we _need_ two more keycards. You also remember what they said, right?"

The adult denied, "No, not really. I was, I, was"—a sigh—"too nervous to pay attention."

"Ahhh," noted the dragon. He waved it off anyway. "That's perfectly fine, Hikari! It's okay. I heard everything anyway. 'Cause I was hiding right **behind** the door, heh!" His cheery laughter did not alleviate too much of her anxiety, but the message he delivered next and the jocularity behind its expression siphoned just enough to calm her down. "They think those ODC people depend too much on their algos. Not doing '_real work_'.

"Sooooooooooooooooooooooooo," Veemon patted her arm. "Maybe they still don't know we're here!"

Veemon mollified her anxiety to a more manageable level, that much was certain. Yet no matter what he did, as far as the Child of Light was concerned her partner—her sister and best friend—always found a way to top anyone else, without even meaning to. Tailmon shattered the reassuring air the blue dragon was giving off with excitement in her voice. "Hikari, great news!"

"What is it?"

Tailmon leaped on top of the couch and flashed a couple rectangles sitting squarely in one of her paws. "Just found two RFID cards," the white cat beamed, her eyes brimming with happiness at the unexpected turn of events. "One each."

Hikari flung herself at her digimon. She cupped her by the armpits and lifted the cat up into a happy and tight hug. "Oh thank you!" The woman nuzzled Tailmon's head, rubbing her nose on hers and giving her forehead an affectionate peck. "Fantastic, Tailmon! You just saved us a **lot** of trouble."

She honestly couldn't tell, but through Tailmon's gleeful expression Hikari swore she glimpsed the cheeks of her sister's snout turning red from the praise. This was likely because she was unused to such affectionate outbursts from the Child of Light.

As Hikari pocketed her keycard (Tailmon simply held on to hers), she had to ask. "Where'd you find these?"

"In a 'Lost and Found' drawer over there," Tailmon pointed to a set of fixtures opposite the dining table.

With a crisp, animated clap Veemon cheeped. "Lucky us then." As merry as it should sound, the words came out slightly dour. Any veneer of cheer penetrated by something more saturnine, tipping Yagami to his sudden drop in mood.

"Anything wrong?" she asked, staring into his scarlet eyes. They penetrated hers. They bore through her with such intensity Hikari wondered what the digimon was thinking—**why **he seemed a bit off, like he was wistful—**jealous**—

The woman jolted back after realizing what Veemon reacted to. "Oh," was all Hikari Yagami had to say for it. She ran a hand through her hazel hair, wondering what she should say. Hikari broke eye contact with Veemon, finding Takeru's shirt much more alluring notwithstanding the fact it was wrapped around her neck the entire time. "Uhmm… Veemon, I…"

She felt awkward, trying to resolve the painful nostalgia and languor brought by her loving, doting affections over Tailmon. Even **he** had his fair share of warmth and care from his rightful partner. It wouldn't be right to say anything now even if it consoled the blue dragon, simply because it meant a lot of things.

Downplaying what couldn't be whitewashed.

Promising something Hikari Yagami knew she would not _ever _give urgent priority to.

Emulating someone no one in the world could ever replace.

Betraying the one person she had long pledged her life and intimacy no matter what happened to her brother, to her future significant other, to her parents, and to any other man or woman important in her life.

Hikari possessed a kind, gentle, and loving heart. Perhaps, the kindest, gentlest, and most loving of all among the Twelve Chosen Children. Or among the Digidestined for that matter. Anyone close to their digital half could easily grasp the subtle meanings and symbolisms behind what looked and sounded like a mere, meekly-spoken apology from the outside. They were numerous as they were indicative, announcing exactly where her loyalties were.

Fortunately for her the Digimon of Miracles backed away. "It's okay," he verbalized, turning away from the two Chosen before Hikari locked eyes with him again. "No problem at all, okay, Hikari?"

"…Got it…"

The Child of Light whispered a couple prayers to Buddha. One for Veemon's cognizance of his actions and motivations. A second for something good to happen for once.

Veemon sluggishly strolled across the break room, his interest apparently drawn to a single iPad on the dining table. A chain attached to the tablet invited the digimon closer, beckoning his curiosity to take over. It seemed to be made of solid steel. Tough, durable, and unbreakable in the absence of power tools—or digimon built for the task.

The portable computer sat innocently on the table, yet the chain denoted it was anything **but** innocuous. It was there for a reason, and he felt compelled to approach and investigate. He was already reaching for it when the Digimon of Light bounded onto the table, stopping him in his tracks. "Tailmon?"

"I feel the same as you, Veemon."

His ears perked up at the sound of that. The air around him became hopeful, expectant—

"There might be something interesting in this. Let's check this out together."

Whether Tailmon sensed his second mood change again or not, the feline did not show it. "Let's," the Chosen replied as soon as she made her request. While Veemon took a seat next to his colleague, Tailmon sat beside him and pulled the iPad closer. One push of the button on the side and the lifeless screen exploded in light and revealed an impressive, wavy background with the DSI's logo visible for anyone within five meters of the two.

Hikari Yagami would have thought the two reminded her of Patamon and Tailmon, back in the good old days when they did practically everything together. She would have remembered Takeru Takaishi and, again, the gloom permeating his death. She might have even thought Veemon and Tailmon were cute as a pair. "Mmmm'kay," the dragon observed. "Goes straight to an internal website aaannnndd…"

"—gami did so much damage in his desperate bid to crush the DSI. He sacrificed himself and a loyal group trying to end the war. He failed, but nonetheless the death toll and the rebuilding costs will be so high it won't do any good for Japan's attempts to recover from its economic slump."

"That much is understood, George, but does Taichi's death mean—?"

"No. Losing the Child of Courage may have been the **worst **loss the Digidestined ever had, but this war will not end on his death alone. The Digidestined are not centered on one man. They are a team. Even then, several of the Chosen Children are still alive. This gives them plenty of potential to change the game and gain enough power to push the DSI back."

Had she not been distracted at the time, the Chosen Child would have surely joined the two digimon. She would have been awed at their immense luck, choosing to hide in the break room. Behind her back, the cat and dragon were giddy in their seats, quivering not in fright, not in anxiety, but in excitement.

"_Harmonious Ones_," Veemon exclaimed. "It's got a **map**! Wahoooo!"

A little twist and turn of her digits, claws unsheathed. "3D View. Didn't expect that from Apple."

"Well **I** didn't expect that _at all_! Since **when** did human stuff become so cooooool?" His eyes sparkled with vigor not unlike the vitality driving Chibimon's hyperactivity. "Wow, I wonder how awesome the videogames are…"

"_Focus_. We've got a few minutes to skim this."

A chuckle. He stuck his tongue out, feeling joyous now that they weren't wandering aimlessly inside the M&A Wing. "Yeah! We've got photographic memory anyways.

"Wait a minute, why can't we just take this with us?"

"We **are**."

"Then—

"Just in case."

Hikari neither heard nor saw any of this. Her full attention was driven to the CNN interview, eyes and ears taking in the foreigners' view of their war and where it might go from here on out. They were discussing _her brother_. Talking about _her_ friends. _Her_ allies. The _potential_ scenarios that might play out going forward.

"Hikari Yagami can always take after her brother, although her leadership ability is something heavily debated among analysts. The Chosen Children trapped in the Digital World might find a way around the Digital Dive System. And, Motomiya aside, there are also two others unaccounted for. You need to remember, we can't exactly predict how—

"A lot of bloggers—sorry if I'm interrupting you, George, but—

"It's okay."

"—but since DSI Vice-Chairman Yamaki's sudden and confident announcement of Taichi's death, the public's been restless. Yesterday Google Analytics reported growing doubts on this news. Some known political bloggers scrutinized Yamaki's press release the other day and _concluded_ he was not being up front—

"I'm not surprised why. There's no corpse. No significant DNA tests. There aren't any survivors among the Digidestined, and the DSI soldiers rescued from the debris had no way to verify what happened after the SCAI took them out of the fight. Eyewitness reports claim Taichi's SCAI was seen fighting in its Mega form. We _know _any SCAI classified at this level is extremely difficult to delete even with the DSI's current level of technology. Yamaki's press release is, really, reminding us of Operation: Neptune Spear—

"That's the one where SEAL Team Six—

"—killed Osama bin Laden two years ago."

"Right. Good thing he didn't have SCAI's in that house."

"Now, with so much conflicting evidence and several possible catalysts for the Digidestined to regain some power, predicting what will happen next is unwise. We should instead consider a general set of possibilities and explore how the world powers might best adjust to each scenario."

As comprehensive as George's "set of possibilities" were, as an insider Yagami knew something they did not account for. Yes, Taichi was still alive. Yes, her friends stuck in the Digital World have found a way around the Digital Dive System. Yes, Hikari was doing her best to step up and take the mantle she inherited, or would inherit, from her older brother.

None of those had the explosiveness of the news Veemon brought with him from the other side. Digital Modification and Æther. The ruthless Christopher Van Numen and his superhuman abilities. George's strategic forecasts were going to be off the mark, dragged beyond the realm of possibilities he conceived for this war between Men and Monsters.

That even a foreign political expert wasn't willing to commit his reputation on any single prediction emboldened Hikari. It encouraged her to strive for the best she could possibly do at this point. That anything can happen at this point… as horrible as it was for the people relying on predictions, it was wonderful for the Chosen Child. Such uncertainty filled her with hope.

Hope easily dashed by the commercial break that followed.

"_The self-conscious artificial intelligence is fundamental to modern society."_

If only she shut the television off. If only she sauntered to Veemon and Tailmon, going through a 3D map of the Military and Administration Wing as fast and as extensively as they could given the short amount of time they had available.

Mitsuo Yamaki, walking in a corridor, did not match his brusque voice to the sweet and inspiring melody being played in the commercial. As soon as a wall passed between Yamaki and the camera, a woman took his place. Hair as brown as hers, a smile as wide as Veemon's, and a face Hikari thought cute and beautiful all at once.

A woman she recognized as Riley, Chief Operating Officer of Hypnos, another DSI-accredited supplier of tribands.

"_It can assist us with work, can help us foster a new age of enlightenment for us all…"_

Suddenly the setting changed, a transition made seamless through the magic of post-production editing. Janyu Li, CEO of the Monster Makers and, unknown to the world, a valued ally and sympathizer of the Digidestined, was touring the camera through the house she, Tailmon, and Veemon had just spent a few hours in.

"…_while giving us TLC in the home, holding us…"_

It led to footage of Jianliang Li sleeping with Terriermon on his face, his long, thick ears wrapped tight around his head. If Hikari did not have the opportunity to meet both the teenager and his digital half, she might have never known the two were partners. Not from the way this internal branding scheme made them out to be.

"…_embracing us every day and night."_

A quick cut to the logo of the United Nations and someone Hikari recognized as Tsuneo Nishida, Permanent Representative of Japan to the United Nations, seated on a desk.

"_The United Nations recognizes a SCAI must never be left alone. It can threaten national security. It can delude others into believing __**unproven fantasies**__. Or it can go out of control and harm our loved ones."_

Three images were overlaid his speech. All three that dug deep into Hikari's heart and sowed the seeds of anger within her.

The first was a photograph of Professor Samuel Oak being shoved into a police car. An old man. An old, fragile, but enthusiastic man who had only love for his work and ample curiosity into the workings of a world beyond his comprehension, yelling—screaming for his innocence.

"I've been framed!" Hikari remembered his exact words. She was there. All Twelve of them were. "I'm not working for Al Qaeda! I'm just here to study the digimon. I'm not—

Someone from the SAT smashed his jaw shut with a baton.

The second presented Taichi Yagami, standing with the Twelve amidst scores of people and supporters as they walked through the streets of Shinjuku to protest at the Metropolitan Government building. Hikari recoiled at the two words the Japanese Rep—the United Nations—described the Chosen Children's dreams of ideal coexistence.

"Unproven fantasies"?

The bloodied corpse of Miyako Inoue appeared in the Chosen Child's mind, her head blasted into a squishy mess of guts and body parts. Impossible it was to distinguish the features of her friend, of her comrade, who stood beside her, Takeru, Iori, Ken, and Daisuke against BelialVamdemon. Hawkmon was down for good, rendered comatose by the very thing that kept him happy, bubble, and alive: his bond with his human half.

**These were **_**not**_** unproven fantasies! **They pursued a higher calling, a moral obligation that went far beyond what was expected from the typical human being. They lived with their digimon partners, treated them—no, _considered_ them friends, family, and more. Irreplaceable parts of their lives, so much to the point that to marry one of them was the equivalent of marrying two people at once, simultaneously.

They _died_ for "unproven fantasies". Miyako, Yamato, and Takeru! All three died as casualties in the fight for true, egalitarian coexistence. Taichi Yagami sacrificed his name for this "delusion". How could the world—how could society—_humanity_ write them all off so callously, so cruelly?

Worst of all was the last image. How couldn't she **not** recognize the Hispanic American girl standing alone in a cemetery, crying so many tears watching her entire family being buried into the ground. The sole survivor of the Fourth of July Massacre, a world-shaking incident instigated by an invader who did not hesitate to sic his digital half on a human family and eviscerate them. Men, women, and children alike.

Why was this catastrophe being played out as the consequence of a digimon going out of control and blatantly murdering the people it cared for? Why was the Digital Suppression Initiative—

"_Scientifically proven to be inherently dangerous, prone to violence and hostility, the United Nations believes it is only through the Digital Suppression Initiative can we ever have peace of mind living—coexisting—with these animals."_

Before Hikari Yagami could even process the images being registered in her coquelicot eyes—conscripted tamers being sent to Iraq and Afghanistan, otherworldly monsters fighting off Mexcian policemen in defense of drug cartels, even children who bullied those without partners, having their digital halves pummel the defenseless victims into submission—there were no words to describe the grief, anger, and hopelessness filling her as the words of US President Barack Obama emanated from the television.

A recording from his speech five years ago, bastardized and twisted by the Digital Suppression Initiative to suit their internal branding—their accursed _propaganda._

"_We understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted, for those that prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame."_

A collage depicted awards being handed out to esteemed employees of the Digital Suppression Initiative, among them Mitsuo Yamaki and Kurata Akihiro. Videos of DSI Peacekeepers shoving Baby digimon lost in a megacity like Tokyo or New York into a cramped cage. They kicked them, bashed them into the uncomfortable prison, and this commercial—this **deceitful** **cant** seemed to congratulate them, with a sharp rise in melody occurring as soon as they gave each other high fives.

Then a woman began speaking, her voice lovely to hear and pay attention to. It echoed the ancient marketing strategy that worked to this very day: sex sells.

"_Here in the DSI, we strive to make the world a better place. We aspire for a true and lasting coexistence between humankind and self-conscious artificial intelligence. __**Your contribution to our cause brings us one step closer to this dream, every day**__. So hold your head high, and bear the pride of the human race."_

Digimon forever enslaved—suppressed by color-coded dark spirals. Hundreds, thousands, _millions_ of them kept as glorified pets, purchased from people walking into inhumane, demeaning stores such as Mons' Mart. Dressed up in the most ridiculous getups, with the digimon accepting it. Their sense of shame lost, suppressed into oblivion.

Digimon employed as cheap labor, their emotions and personhood dulled by the dark spirals, replaced with the mindset of an apathetic robot. Abused by their employers and maltreated by the very people they served.

Digimon turned into weapons of mass destruction—an art begun by the Digimon Kaiser and _perfected_ by the Digital Suppression Initiative and the scientists working under Research and Development.

This was the coexistence the DSI represented. One that served humanity and _only_ humanity. That the global organization achieved this vision-mission in the two and a quarter years they've existed was impressive, reflecting the collective will and synergy of all the minor entities the Digital Suppression Initiative subsumed during its incorporation.

Now all they needed to do was **maintain** this state of the world. Hold it steady and eliminate the ones who cared about the digimon, who sympathized with them and disagreed with the way the monsters were taken advantage of.

Somewhere along the way, sometime during her viewing of this internal program, Hikari empathized with her brother. His desperation became hers as much as it was his. She felt the desolation, the loneliness, the hopelessness and despair! Fighting a system. Fighting a large group attuned to chaos and self-interest. **Fighting** **her own people**.

In many, many ways this was worse—so much worse—than any conflict the Twelve has had in the past. At least there was a light at the end of the tunnel, an end to hope for, an end that all of them knew was feasible so long as they believed in each other, trusted in their partners, and push one concerted effort after the next to overcome their tribulations.

Hikari Yagami still remembered the day of Dagomon's Call, her visit to the Dark Ocean. She still remembered Demon had been banished to the same realm, and she knew neither the Dark Lord nor the God those vile creatures worshipped, who sought nothing more but to claim her for procreation. Though the Twelve knew next to nothing about these antagonists, though they have not acted at all over the past ten years since the Digital Revelation, the Child of Light knew the Chosen Children—and the Digidestined—could easily topple these once empowered by the sentiments and traits embodied by the Crests.

Here, there was no light. Here, there was no certainty. Here, there was only doubt. Endless and infinite, or merely so far from salvation the end was no larger than the diameter of a needle…

But unlike Taichi, whose foray into diplomacy and politics left him crestfallen, jaded at the reality of the world around him, and willing to abandon everything for a higher calling, Hikari refused to give in. She refused to let society win. She relinquished nothing to her anger, stamped out the flames fueling any outrage to the gross injustice and inequality truly liberated digimon and their sympathizers—their _partners_—were subjected to every single day they lived.

_I'm stronger than this._

She'd transform her darkening emotions. The disappointment and sadness she felt for her brother and the failings of humankind. The grief from Takeru's death that wrapped around her heart and never let go. The dejection for the loss—no, the _abduction_, of Daisuke Motomiya. She would morph each and every one of those feelings and redirect all that negative energy to the pure, innocent motivation of rescuing her brother.

Hikari Yagami felt the dull pain throb from her stomach, taking her back to the moment Taichi, her brother, her _only_ brother, who sheltered her—fought the crushing weight of the world for her, slammed his fist into her belly, violated the sanctity of her bond even if it was for her sake, for future she wanted: that idyllic, harmonic coexistence they _all_ envisioned ten years ago. The dream Hikari dreamed. An illusion turned into reality.

Her spirits renewed, the Child of Light marched to the two digimon sitting by the dining table, who were obsessed over the iPad, their eyes glued to the screen to absorb every bit of information it held. She ignored the CNN interview with George and, placing hands on both Tailmon's and Veemon's shoulders, asserted. "We're going," she said. The inflation of confidence ballooned when she noticed the two Chosen were staring at a map of the M&A Wing.

"We're ready," the Digimon of Light nodded. "Veemon and I spent enough time studying this. I think we got a bit of it."

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Yup, yup!" chirped the blue dragon. "A map of this place!" A hand chop fell down the chain securing the iPad. Solid steel was no match for Veemon's strength. Instantly the tablet was severed, allowing Tailmon to snatch the computer and hand it over to her surrogate sister. "But if you ask **me**, three minutes—more or less— isn't a lot, so we oughta take it with us."

"Good thinking," the Chosen Child approved. She took the iPad and slipped it behind her pants' belt. It fit. "So you know where to go?" she asked the white cat.

"Mmhmm," Tailmon and Veemon responded in unison.

A newfound motivation, an enflamed confidence, pushed Yagami forward. "Lead the way, then."

* * *

A newfound motivation.

An enflamed confidence.

She remembered.

She remembered what she was fighting for. What she poured all her soul and heart into. Grasped it again, holding on to it for Hikari did not want to lose it as soon as pressure mounted on her back and started screwing her with the full force and cruelty of a sadist.

From the fifth level down, on Hikari's command Nefertimon began sealing each open passage. Gemstones and beams of light rained on the forces prepared by the Digital Suppression Initiative, piercing their translucent shields of energy and crushing the military equipment they brought in to deal with the Armored digimon.

With the sphinx no longer out in the open, the soldiers and guardsmen below had no targets to shoot at. It reduced significantly the number of shooters and the volume of gunfire sent their way. Yet there were still many on the fifth level, firing at the flying sphinx and her passengers using their assault rifles, their rocket launchers, and their combat drones. Electrified bullets inundated her poor ears with the chirping of birds, and those manufactured using raw materials embedded with anti-digimon programming whistled past her almost invisibly, hiding behind the deafening noise of the battlefield.

BLAM!

A Type 90 battle tank from the other side of the floor opened fire at Nefertimon, _obliterating_ a vending machine in the sphinx's stead thanks to her alert maneuvers. **Those** damn vehicles were the reason why she had her partner sealing all the passages in the first place. Not only was each opening another port of entry for the Digital Suppression Initiative, but the organization had already prepared the heavy artillery, parking the big guns to bar the Chosen Child's means of escape.

"Nefertimon, seal that tunnel!"

Guardsmen heard Hikari's cry and replied immediately. "Take out that f*ck! Her SCAI's cutting off our—

"BEEEEEHHHH!" the blue dragon responded in kind. A visibly pink tongue sticking out his mouth, Veemon trained _his _FN FAL on the ones he could see and took _them _down, his gunfire cutting them open or popping their knees. Painful but effective for the most part, as it had been since this chase began. "In your dreams!"

Better him than her surrogate sister, the Chosen Child thought. At least Veemon didn't kill his targets.

Once again, blinding light emerged from Nefertimon's back, right in front of Hikari. The woman turned her head away from it, coquelicot eyes panning behind and around them for other threats. The Digimon of Miracles had a pair of crimson orbs concentrating on each DSI guardsman attempting to stop them.

Neither needed to see the giant slab of stone shooting out of the pillar of light.

"Full charge, ROSETTA STONE!"

Neither needed to see it crush the opening and seal it away completely.

Millions of Yen would be needed to fix the damage and restore the passage to the faultlessness it lost in the explosion. Hours of work, employing expensive equipment needed for subterranean construction. That did not even include the damage they've already

None of them cared. All they cared for was an exit. **ANY exit**, and if they had to fight through multiple floors of DSI personnel, then they were going to do it. It had to be a passage without a tank, a passage relatively devoid of people and drones. Yes, all of them were going to be _full_ of soldiers, but Hikari—_Veemon_ was certain there'd be at least one available.

There had to be! With so many entrances to the First Hub, there **must**!

Soon enough the last exit on the fifth level crumbled, leaving copious amounts of rubble for the Digital Suppression Initiative to dig through. Many of the soldiers were gunning for the fourth floor now, and that's why Hikari had Nefertimon fly down there, attacks being churned out one after another.

Two FM TALON drones opened fire at Nefertimon as soon as she flew into their line of sight. Their controllers directed their weapons, not at Hikari this time but at the sphinx herself. A hailstorm of 7.62mm bullets welcomed the Digimon of Light from two sides. Hikari didn't need close scrutiny to know her armor was already cracked and chipping in multiple places, unable to endure constant gunfire.

Both were destroyed easily by the sphinx, but the distraction gave one DSI soldier enough time to aim a rocket launcher and fire a laser-guided missile at the digimon. No aerial acrobatics was necessary; Nefertimon had been hit squarely in the side of her armor just as Veemon found the soldier and shot one of his hands. It was only quick thinking on her part to shield both Veemon and her surrogate sister from the searing heat and concussive blast with her own wings.

Charred feathers fell from the scorched angel wings as the blast pushed her out of the open, onto the fourth level. Guardsmen aimed at Hikari from the side—she was already drawing her weapon when the giant cat dropped from the air and pounced sidewards, barreling into the soldiers with her head down, trained at each man like she was a giant bull in Texas.

Hikari hissed from a bullet grazing her shoulder. It was as painful as the one that got her by the leg a minute ago, but fortunately there wasn't any electricity this time. She couldn't help but gaze at the wound. Yagami gasped at the blood oozing out, revealing even a little bit of the meat inside her own arm. It was nauseating, to see something sticking out from her own body. That it wasn't life-threatening or serious did not matter to her.

A loud, animalistic whimper penetrated the barrage of gunfire assaulting their ears. She whipped her head further back to see Veemon falling off Nefertimon's rear. "VEEMON!" Nefertimon cried out, anxious for her best friend, whose momentum brought him close to the concrete rail… or what was left of it. _Whew, at least he didn't fall._

In her peripheral vision the Child of Light found several guardsmen behind concrete barriers cloaked in _Light Screen_s, their light machineguns propped on bipods and ready to open fire. They barricaded one of the passages, and it was fortunate Hikari Yagami saw them. "On our right. They're fire—Just JUMP; get out of the way!"

Nefertimon had already been airborne for a second. "NILE JEWELRY!" The gemstones broke through the translucent shields of energy and tore the concrete barriers apart. Whether the DSI personnel survived or not was a nonissue. The sphinx hopped to the fallen dragon with the alacrity of a wildcat. "Veemon," she verbalized, her voice shaking. "Hey, Veemon!"

Hikari was shaking too. "Is he…?"

Thankfully, Veemon was already stirring. "I'm, I'm okay." He rubbed his thigh. "It really _reeaaaallly _hurts, but don't worry, I'm a-okay!"

"Worried us for a second there," the Chosen Child said. She tendered her hand for Veemon and the blue dragon accepted her assistance once he retrieved his stolen rifle. He was back on Nefertimon and not a second too soon. Most of the soldiers her partner attacked survived and were attacking, not to mention their _friends_ were rushing to their aid, shooting from the lower mezannine levels. Another Type 90 had wheeled out of one of the paths on _their_ level and attacked as soon as they were in sight.

Hikari inspected Daisuke's partner, staring at the wound. She was astonished to see the complete _lack_ of one. The skin was as bright blue as ever, but it wasn't hard to realize it was sore. A dark, ugly bruise was well on its way, forming right where Veemon was hit.

Amazement captured her. "That should've been a hole in your leg." A hole with all sorts of things sticking out, she wanted to tell him. Wasn't Veemon in his Child form? Since when could a digimon of his level take a hit from a _high-caliber bullet_ and walk away with just a bruise to show for it?

Veemon didn't pay attention to her. Instead, the dragon digimon raised his voice. "There's our way out! Right there!"

"Where?" Nefertimon replied. She swiped concrete barriers and hurtled them at the Type 90. She paid no attention to the soldiers standing around it, using the vehicle as cover. They scattered as the barriers closed in. Most were spared the tragedy of having the chest crushed by solid rock. Hikari chose not to look at the mess the sphinx created. She felt sorry for the victims, yet the woman was aware her partner considered such deaths necessary for their mission.

"Third level, directly across! It's not _as _heavilyguarded!"

"You _sure_ that's the right one?" Hikari doubted. "We lost the iPad earlier so I can't check—

"RAAAHHH!" The Digimon of Light shrieked and closed in on the Type 90, slashing cleanly through the steel with her full strength. It exploded seconds later. But Nefertimon had already been running, sprinting away from the destroyed tank…

"That goes to the Fifth Gate! Nefertimon's not the only one who got a good look at the map."

"But brother's at the Sixth…"

"That's okay, Hikari. We can—

…towards the concrete rail. The edge of the fourth mezzanine. "Go through there!" the sphinx stole Veemon's thunder moments before taking that leap of faith.

Nefertimon lurched back and spread her dirty wings. She swooped in from the fourth level, careening in what felt like a dive bomb towards the exit Veemon just specified. Speed maximized, the Digimon of Light ferried her two passengers through the gunfire, through the projectiles whirring around the Hub, ignoring the curses and grumbling they left in their wake.

Veemon had been right after all. The tunnel wasn't as saturated as the others they've sealed off. There wasn't a drone in sight. Not even a single tank. There were soldiers, naturally. Groups of them, many taking shelter behind Light Screens and concrete barriers, but with the lasers coming out of Nefertimon's headdress and the beautiful jewels being jettisoned from her gauntlets, they weren't too much of a problem. Some had died in the process, though majority survived the escape.

The Chosen Child jotted down a mental note to thank her partner when they return home, for restraining herself as much as she possibly could without compromising their chances for survival. She certainly would have wanted to thank Veemon too, had she known this exit wouldn't be available had they gone the other way when they left the Digital Dive System.

"Wahoooo!" the blue dragon cheered. "And we're **sooooo** outta there!"

As all these happened, Hikari Yagami felt a profound insight coming to her.

They were a team. One tamer, her digital half, and her best friend's life partner. Did it matter if Hikari was the designated leader? Did it matter that the digimon with her were acting on their own? Thinking and choosing, independent of the Chosen Child's wishes?

None of it did. This was not about the ego. This was not about being given the respect of leadership. This was about survival, about success. They had a mission to do, and if Hikari had trouble figuring things out, then they would help her. The same applied to either Veemon or Nefertimon herself as the battle went along.

They needed to trust each other.

Trust to cover each other's backs. To compensate for someone else's flaws, for someone else's problems. If a choice had to be made, it had to be whatever looked best at the time. What the _consensus_ decided that was. That Hikari Yagami was the sole tamer in this group of three was a nonissue. They listened to her and, rightfully she should also listen to them, when it was appropriate.

George was right. He did not say it outright during his interview on CNN, but if an organization—any organization, whatever the size— depended on one person or a few bright stars, then it would be easy to topple. All their villains had to do was cut off the talking heads, then watch those left behind flail and run in circles like a dying, headless chicken, finishing it off when it had finally fallen and become a shadow of its former self.

Autonomy was as critical as group synergy. Generating ideas, taking the initiative to execute them, **and** accepting responsibility for whatever came were all critical to the survival, no, to success. It could be as small as the three now heading for the Fifth Gate, or it could be as large as the Digidestined, twelve thousand men and monsters strong.

The Digidestined shouldn't rely solely on her brother, on the rising star Rika Nonaka, or on the collective wisdom of the Core Group. They mustn't. They needed to coordinate with the people on the ground more, to be a bit more democratic—giving qualified people a say on strategies but not enough to slow down the decision-making process.

Hikari hoped Taichi would like the idea. Perhaps it would ease the pressure the world heaped on his shoulders like a living Atlas.

"Hey, ODC!" A buoyant Veemon was wallowing in their joint accomplishment. He stuck his tongue out and made a funny face, doing his very best to ensure every infrared camera they passed caught it. "See this? We _survived_ your trap! Beeehhh. What'll you do now, huh?"

"Veemon," Nefertimon reproved. "We're on a lucky streak here. Our _second _one. Try not tojinx us." Resistance in this passage was minimal. There were still plenty of guardsmen around, all donning their urban camouflage, but the drones and heavy weapons weren't as plentiful.

"Looks like the DSI focused **everything** at the Second Hub," Yagami voiced.

"Nefertimon, you worry too much." The blue dragon laughed, happy for once at how things were beginning to look up for them. "At the rate things are going, we'll have Taichi back in no time!"

Hikari couldn't resist Veemon's contagious optimism. "I hope so. We'll need all the luck we can get."

.

.

.

* * *

_So far, the DSI Infiltration has been mostly a stroke of luck for Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon, even when it seems to have run out on them. Much has played to their favor, and the three exploited it all with success. Now they are moving onward, their hopes high despite their awareness of the ordeals they are sure to face ahead. _

_Coming up next on _The Interloper, "The Value of Life".

* * *

**Post-chapter notes:**

[5] See why this chapter was so hard to break in half? My inspiration for this particular style came from DigitalSkitty's _Pedestal_. I remember very clearly that she wrote a chapter that played out similarly to mine. The events were happening in present time, with flashbacks to the past being presented alongside it. Readers are often confused at first, but as they read, they start understanding what was going on...

Here's something funny. You see where I ended _Lucky Streak_? Well, the segment following _that_ is supposed to be the very last in the PAST section, and is meant to bring everything full circle. The only reason why I _didn't_ include it in this chapter was simply because **CH26 was already too long as it is**, and that particular segment is extremely long (featuring _both _Hikari and Tailmon as main viewpoints).

Strangely enough, my current structure seems to work thanks to the break room scene. If you think I could've done better, again, review button is down there.

[6] REAL LIFE REFERENCES! If there is **something** I take pride on, it would be my hard efforts in making you, the reader, feel like this story is happening in real life. Considering my deconstruction fic _already_ envisions a "Real Life meets Digimon" scenario, this is obviously appropriate. So for those who are curious, here's what I brought in:

~~ Starbucks, Hitachi, LG, and Kruger are **all** real companies and the items shown here are **all real**.

~~ FLIR Systems, Inc. is a real company as well. It is publicly-listed in the NYSE and owns **60%** of the global infrared market as of fiscal year 2012. It is currently one of the companies I am evaluating at work.

~~ Mario Draghi is the current President of the ECB and the words mentioned in this story was a direct quote lifted from a speech in July 2011. Considering how EU is doing so far, I still think they reverberate to this very day.

~~ The Cyprus crisis mentioned here is **still unfolding as I write this**, where corporations, family businesses, and well-off individuals/families are at risk of losing **60% of their bank deposits **if the balance is above €100,000 while draconian capital controls are put in place. Recently, the Finance Ministers who administered this policy have resigned.

~~ The "George" interviewed on CNN is actually my homage to George Friedman, Chief Intelligence Officer of Strategic Forecasting, whose opinions on geopolitics I both highly respect and follow. (I'm actually subscribed to his newsletters via RSS.)

~~ Tsuneo Nishida is really the current Permanent Representative of Japan to the United Nations, according to Wikipedia. Naturally, the sentences I had his self-insert say here for the DSI's internal branding does not reflect who he is, what his opinions are, or even what the UN's opinions would be in this sort of situation. After all, I am simply gunning for the further reinforcement of my "Real Life meets Digimon" theme.

~~ The FM TALON unmanned ground vehicle here is a **real combat drone **and it has seen service in Iraq and Afghanistan. It's primarily used by the United States, so I had to employ creative license and give it to the DSI via ties to the US Military. I'd have used a drone manufactured by the Japanese. Unfortunately my research didn't unearth anything. D:

~~ Operation: Neptune Spear is the codename of the SEAL Team Six operation that resulted in Osama Bin Laden's death.

~~ The quote from current US President Obama was lifted directly from a speech he made in 2008, following his victory.

[7] References from other series:

~~ As stated in the previous chapter, _Light Screen_ is an attack/technique/move lifted directly from _Pokémon_. In this story, it even works the same way, defending better against energy-based attacks but not physical ones.

~~ Anyone catch the _Naruto_ reference yet?

[8] The **Office of Detection and Containment** (ODC) is a direct reference to a government agency in the Digimon fanfic _Crossing Worlds: The Sealed Digivice_, which is pretty much the only Frontier & Adventure crossover I ever liked. Go ahead and read it. It's awesome! (On a side note, the original name for the ODC was the Office of Internal Security, or OIS. Doesn't sound too catchy, though.)

[9] Any replies or responses to reviews, provided I keep track of them well. Truncated to save space, given how much I like to babble.

**Kingveemon**: First, thanks for the feedback. It's very much appreciated considering the other people who like my story prefer to remain silent for their own reasons. (Not that I'm pissed off for it; would've been hypocritical of me since I rarely leave comments for stories I fave either. LOL) Anyway, glad to see you found the Naruto reference easily... or did I make you reread the chapter? XD

Again, thank you for your comments on the action and _especially_ Hikari's character development. At least I know I'm doing a good job, especially when this chapter sets the tone for what the next few are going to be. BTW, reserve your judgments on how much damage the characters have taken thus far because this is **JUST THE BEGINNING**. As mentioned in my profile (and afterwords in the previous chapters), the DSI Infiltration concludes the _Priorities_ story arc with a "bang!" and the content has been planned enough to fill in no less than **14** chapters, and this assumes I don't zone out in my writing and end up producing 15K - 20K monsters containing _half_ the intended content (as what happened in this chapter). So believe me when I say that Hikari and Veemon will be receiving **plenty** of love from me. :D

I'll resume writing after my CFA exams in June.

**The Keeper of Worlds**: Hello! Thanks for the comments. Glad to know my story attracts readers despite the... unique positioning of my fic's storyline. (You know, the whole deconstruction war thing with all the gorn and mature, complex themes. :P) I wonder though. How did you actually find my story? I haven't updated in a while and I'm sure it's been buried or something.

As I told kingveemon, I will begin writing Chapter 27, _The Value of Life_, as soon as June 2 is over. Real life concerns first and foremost, you understand.

Concerning Daisuke, keep in mind that Mitsuo Yamaki has every incentive to keep him alive. He is crucial to the Digital Modification project not only because he is the only Chosen Child presently held captive by the DSI but also because of his role as the Child of Miracles. Don't forget, Yamaki has a personal stake in the project's further development.


	27. The Value of Life (Part I)

**Pre-chapter notes:**

[1] It's great not having the pressure to study for a grueling exam, and even better to approach that occasional task of writing a new chapter with the feeling of success and triumph—I passed that exam, after all, and surprisingly did very, VERY well despite studying for half the time it normally takes to pass it.

[2] Prior to this update, I've also rewritten 80% of Chapter 18, "Priorities". Its length has almost doubled, and now contains more intense writing, a few new scenes, better dialogue, and more importantly, a clearer look at the direction I wanted to take the main characters. Please give it a read and tell me what you think. :)

[3] If you may recall, the previous chapter narrated Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon's intrusion into the DSI M&A Wing, with the presentation alternating between the past and the present. This **will** continue in this update until the point everything comes around. After all, CH26 and CH27 were intended to be one.

Also, you might've forgotten this bit of detail as it was only mentioned once in the first chapter, but the Modifiers **do** have ranks, and they're relatively high up on the JSDF command chain. Albert Reeves (the main villain for the first story arc) was a Colonel after all, and Lucille Diaz is a Major, being two notches lower. It's this distinction that separates them from most DSI veterans. Such experience makes them difficult to kill.

[4] **Just about everyone** in the main cast is going to make an appearance in "The Value of Life". Yes, this also means Christopher will have a turn in the spotlight. Take note, however, that his perspective of the DSI Infiltration mission doesn't move the storyline until a little bit later, so I won't be dwelling on him too much 'til then.

[5] I've decided to split "The Value of Life" because it's getting extremely long. The total length as of this posting is nearly 24K words, and it took **that** long to close the loop. I still have Yamaki's, Chris', Taichi's, and the concluding story segments left and I'm expecting at least 2K to 4K for each one. This first half you're about to read is **about 16K long**, so the second half should be around the same length when I get to post it.

[6] To enhance the reader experience, consider listening to **Breath of Five V**'s "Biotech Public Corporation" for the first story segment and **Assassin Creed 3**'s "Frontier Chase and Escape Music" (that one's an 8 min. and 39 second video on Youtube).

[7] Once again, all feedback and criticisms are welcome. Happy reading, everybody!

* * *

**THE INTERLOPER**

**STORY ARC: PRIORITIES**

**CHAPTER 27: THE VALUE OF LIFE I  
**

* * *

Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon left the safety of the break room armed with a confidence that has proven as persistent as a phoenix, poking its head out of the ashes of despair. With the Office of Detection and Containment overreliant on the RFID cards needed to protect the Digital Suppression Initiative's employees and visitors from the devastating might of its security, Veemon felt the pressure and stress of this mission wearing down to a more manageable level.

No longer did they have to hide behind wide and surprisingly solid columns of cement. No more furtive peeks of the area ahead. No need to pinpoint the cameras and demolish them all simultaneously lest the ODC was alerted by the robots monitoring the live feeds or the six-man squads of DSI soldiers patrolling throughout the base.

With Dr. Akihiro's ID in Veemon's baldric and two employee ID's in Hikari's pockets and Tailmon's paws, their real concerns had dwindled significantly. Now all they needed to worry about were the occasional patrol and the miniscule possibility that someone in the Office of Detection and Containment was vigilant enough to actually monitor the live feeds instead of leaving this boring, arduous, and immensely tedious responsibility to the algorithms Veemon was certain the DSI had poured billions and billions of Yen into.

Algorithms that were compromised the second his group dashed into that break room.

Veemon suppressed a happy chuckle. _Guess the DSI isn't as airtight as I thought it'd be._

"Shhh!" Hikari cautioned. Veemon's cheer hadn't been so suppressed after all. "We haven't seen any patrols in a while. We could run into one anytime now."

The Digimon of Miracles heard the woman but allowed her words to pass through his ears with little retention, for his scarlet eyes saw the gigantic corridor they were in widen further and further until it opened into a chamber as large and capacious as several Shibuya 109 buildings stacked together, side by side, much like the very one Nefertimon ferried them to in the not so distant future. A chamber containing five floors, not of armaments and other foreboding munitions, but of various shops, outlets, restaurants, and other recreational facilities no sane person would ever expect inside the DSI's own headquarters.

A chamber that branched out into a great number of passages as cavernous as theirs—enough to fit military vehicles and digimon as large as his Adult form, Veemon reminded himself.

Although each path led deeper into the heart of the Military and Administration Wing, there were no signs of mazeophobia gracing either the dragon's ashen muzzle or the faces of the two Chosen of Light. Their confidence remained as high and buoyant as ever and in the face of what should have been an unnerving sight his teeth broke out into a grin.

"It's okay," he said. "It's a-okay. We made it to the First Hub! Too many hiding places to count, **plus **we know where those other paths go." He glanced at the iPad sticking out of the Chosen Child's waist before he nodded to the white cat standing a couple feet ahead, her azure eyes and indigo-tipped ears alert for the next patrol. "Right, Tailmon?"

The Digimon of Light replied in kind, giving Daisuke's partner a nod of her own. "Right."

Veemon raised a blue hand and, with his index finger, pointed out a corridor slightly off the exact opposite of their position. Or a _column_ of corridors, rather, as the passages diverged in every Hub to permit access to all five floors from any place in the M&A Wing. "We already know that leads to the Second Gate. It'll bring us to the Second Hub and from there we can access the Sixth Gate and find Taichi's cell."

Tailmon's human half had opened her mouth to reply, but the rumble of an engine drowned out her voice. "Next patrol's here," Tailmon hissed and scrambled back. Veemon glimpsed a military Toyota Mega Cruiser cruising around the first level, flanked by two Kawasaki motorcycles. "They're headed this way!"

The woman's hazelnut hair whipped back and forth as her head swished to and fro, those coquelicot spheres seeking out the ideal hideaway among all the choices available to them. Veemon had an inkling of the options weighing on her mind right now. Should they hide behind the facets and nuances of the urban architecture? The pillars, benches, and kiosks installed by the construction team; or the decorative monuments and statues dotting the floor? Or should they duck into the nearest shop or closed restaurant, abusing Kurata's special access privileges as they had done earlier in the break room?

Fortunately for the adult, Veemon already had the answer on hand. A staircase on the side, just a little ways behind their point of entry, had been plaguing his head since his crimson spheres took note of it. It was as wide, as steep, and almost twice as high as the stairs found in subway stations, but it led directly to the first mezzanine level and that was everything they needed.

"Follow me!" he clamored, rushing back to the entrance in a sprint—or the best he could manage without making his feet sound like elephant feet pounding across hollow rock. The digimon hailed them over to his position before approaching the escalator in this ascending corridor. "C'mon, up, up!"

The risers whirred to life as his three-toed feet stomped down the landing platforms housing the gears, the motors, and the sensors that detected the weight and warmth of his body, ascending quietly but rather quickly to the first mezzanine.

Ever since he first entered the Real World ten years ago, Veemon had always marveled at the creativity behind human technology. When he was younger, his fascination was initially a product of the immense, childlike curiosity that had been a part of the blue dragon in all the years that he lived and the novelty of being in an entirely different world. When their little Digimon Adventure finally ended on the deaths of BelialVamdemon and Armagemon, during the Golden Age his fascination with technology evolved into an appreciation for humanity's obsessive need to innovate.

Once he acclimatized to the computer not as a gateway to his homeland but as an instrument of information and computations—a difficult thing considering his default form in the Real World, Chibimon, had oversized stubs for hands—Veemon began following technology blogs on the Internet, if only to satiate that childish curiosity that kept nagging him to learn what new things Daisuke's species recently designed.

In the split second that passed between his first step on the platform and the next on the moving steps, the Digimon of Miracles recalled his first encounter of an automatic escalator. Though he could no longer remember where it took place, even _when_, his photographic memory brought him back to a time when even the things Daisuke, his friends, and his fellow humans took for granted piqued his neverending interest in the world around him. A time when he didn't despise the innovation that was now costing them the war. A time when he found science and technology charming instead of bestializing, something that had been worth boring hours spent on studying Daisuke's notes while the teenager went to cram school.

He didn't need to remember the memory vividly enough to enrapture his senses. All it took was a reminder and the melancholy hit him like a train. It made him miss the good old days. Four Gods, he also missed the blissful ignorance he and his human half wallowed in for the many years preceding the ill-fated Shinjuku March.

Video games with his partner (among other things he couldn't understand). Sleepovers at Takeru's house or Ken's apartment. Sparring lessons with Iori and his grandfather. Weekly gatherings at one of Odaiba's ice cream parlors. Anniversary celebrations at that cabin on Mt. Fuji. The occasional excursion into a peaceful and serene Digital World.

Yet, even if they win this war, even if they somehow cultivate true coexistence between humanity and the digital monsters, could Veemon forget—truly forget—everything he had been through? Everything he had done? Could he recapture his innocence? Was he stupid for thinking this way? Or was he just naïve, longing for the past?

Veemon clasped the handrail and pulled to maximize the speed of his ascent. A quick check behind him showed Hikari and Tailmon following his lead, with determination adorning their faces instead of raw, unsettling panic. He wondered if either of them shared similar thoughts. How much did Tailmon miss Patamon? How strongly did Hikari feel about the state of humanity now?

He barely understood the depths of their emotions, of how invested the two were in this rescue mission. The Chosen wasn't there when the orange hamster died. He wasn't there when capitalism eroded the social standing of digimon around the world, paving the road for an outright war. He wasn't there when Daisuke was snatched away in the middle of the night and stick around to see how his friends reacted.

The dragon shook his head. With the top of the escalator in sight, he willed the thoughts away, shelved those sinking feelings.

Veemon glanced at the opening ahead, looking back at the First Hub. "Looks all clear on this level." The concrete railing and the higher altitude ensured the patrol wouldn't find them if they didn't make too much noise en route to the passage leading to the Second Gate. "We can slip past every patrol if we're careful," the suggestion flew out his snout when the Chosen Child caught up, dripping in sweat despite the centralized air-conditioning. Her palpitating breaths weren't a good sign. Hikari was not someone suited for a battle of attrition in the middle of enemy territory.

They needed to evade the patrol and push forward. They needed to extricate Taichi and get out of here as soon as possible. But to do so before the next work day began, before the halls were once again filled to the brim with DSI employees…

The junior Yagami beat him to the punch. "Sneaking **is **much better than hiding and waiting for them to pass," Hikari conceded, hands on her knees, "But that's too time consuming and I **simply **can't keep this up. I'm not as strong as Taichi." Her gaze fell on Veemon. "Or Daisuke. There must be a better way."

But Veemon had no clue what a "better way" was. He was just going with the flow of things. He was concentrating on the here and now, so that he'd put everything into rescuing Taichi instead of weeping over Christopher's betrayal or the hopelessness of the Chosen Children's peril. Even with a vivid 3D image of the DSI's M&A Wing in the forefront of his mind, there was nothing he could think of at the moment, nothing that would greatly simplify the task of sneaking past every single DSI soldier they come across.

Veemon wasn't good at this thinking stuff. That's the responsibility Daisuke had. It was he who inherited the mantle from Taichi. It was he who was far better at reading the flow of events than the blue dragon ever could. And it was he who was the first to recognize when he was no longer needed, when the goggles belonged not on the Child of Miracles' head but on the tall man who once donned them, courageously so, with an orange dinosaur standing by him.

"I'm sorry, but…"

The more he stood and pondered, the more the blue dragon was at a loss. Despite the fifteen to twenty minute window between each patrol, there weren't really enough alternative passages for them to use. Not enough mezzanine levels such as those populating the three Hubs of the Nine Gates. Even if there were, the difficulty of their job refused to let up; the Chosen had stacked up behind the last pillar in the corridor and cast his scarlet gaze into the First Hub, catching the sight of yet _another_ patrol on the fourth level.

If Hikari Yagami didn't have enough stamina to sustain a long period of crouching, creeping, and hiding like Samuel Fisher from the _Splinter Cell _series **and **fighting for her life as soon as the alarm bells begin tolling, then this whole operation fell on Veemon and her partner's shoulders. She was no different from deadweight. A "human battery", as Daisuke dejectedly called himself not long after Miyako was murdered in front of him. Not long before he chose to fight on his own and, by intent or by accident, make Veemon experience the lonesome agony of waiting that all human partners felt whenever their digital halves evolved and fought.

"…but there's no other—

Fortunately, the Digimon of Light had a better idea than a dragon and a cat carrying the weight of the human her own life was attached to. "There **is** a way," she interrupted. "The Nine Gates are all connected by the underground train. We can slip in and take it straight to the Sixth Gate. I doubt the DSI's set patrol routes through there if they're arrogant to think they can keep most of the complex secure with RFID cards, security cameras, and algorithms."

Hikari Yagami's lips were about to smile in relief, but Veemon cut her off with a penetrating counterattack. "But what if the train's still active?"

"At four thirty in the morning?" Tailmon's tone suggested incredulity. Her head shook in disagreement. "Harmonious Ones, with all the soldiers around us the only way that'll ever happen is if a **real** emergency crops up and it involves _that man _or one of the higher ups.

"Even if you're right, the maintenance and utility halls and the elevated walkways will keep us safe." The white cat took point, being the first to step away from the central pillar and enter the First Hub. "Now let's go before another patrol comes here. Veemon, watch our backs."

The digimon marveled at how she noticed this detail so quickly and adapted the plan to suit the Chosen Child's needs. But whatever awe he held for the way Tailmon took command as naturally as she did vanished when he bristled at her reference to Christopher Van Numen. All this sneaking around wouldn't be necessary if he hadn't been so focused on his own priorities, if he looked beyond himself. They should be storming the DSI's front gates, with the blond drawing _all_ the attention whilst the others used the diversion to get in, get Taichi, and get out.

Veemon caught himself dwelling what could—what should have been. He emptied his mind. He brought himself back to the mechanical state he'd been in before the DSI patrols forced them to hide in the break room and elude them by the skin of their teeth.

But unlike before, the junior Yagami was sandwiched between him and her digimon partner. Since destroying the security cameras was no longer necessary, silence displaced speed and became paramount. Both Veemon and Tailmon dropped on all fours to reinforce their stealth and to distribute their weight, reducing sound to an absolute minimum. The blue dragon was no less astounded by the only Chosen Child in their midst when he caught up with her without the woman discerning his footfalls until they were within five feet of each other.

Despite the fact another human or Tailmon herself can do significantly better than this and remain undetected until the point of body contact, this was a great achievement for the Digimon of Miracles and his mouth couldn't help beaming with pride, especially when a _third_ DSI patrol unit descended from the third mezzanine stairs in the passage leading to the First Gate.

Veemon had been following Hikari and Tailmon when several footsteps echoed from the nearby stairs. Their ears twitched and prompted them to rush, but the dragon's position assured he wouldn't make it.

"Hurry!" Hikari was mouthing. Her dainty hands made circular movements, beckoning Veemon to keep going. From the other side of the wide corridor he could already hear her heartbeats, frantic and anxious.

Then her lungs inhaled sharply, alerting Veemon's senses before Hikari's body lurched back. Before Tailmon's paw snapped to her partner's circling arms and scraped across her arm warmers. Before Tailmon's _other_ paw pointed to the concrete divider in the center and a pair of cerulean eyes gyrated across her sclera, glaring at the six soldiers ambling into sight.

Veemon dove beside the concrete divider and curled into a ball of leather, of the brightest blue. His tail had curled tightly around his body in response to the unease gripping his heart. He heard not only their steady paces but also their calm breathing. None of the soldiers were talking. None of them were engaged in small talk.

This wasn't one of the patrols they could slip from as they attended to each other's conversations. This wasn't one of the patrols that would joke and throw friendly banter around like a happy family. That would play around to release the boredom. That would conduct this security detail with the complacency needed for him to evade their line of sight. This was a _serious_ group, intent on business. The Digimon of Miracles had a bad feeling the first thing they were going to do on seeing a bright blue dragon peek out of that concrete divider was cock the assault rifle in hand and open fire before Veemon could shoot back, let alone escape. _What'll we do now? _

The blue dragon's heart started beating faster when his senses registered the six closing in from the open path in front of him. His sharp hearing recognized the deep and relaxed aspirations of each soldier. He heard their throats gulp down the excess saliva in their mouths as well as the thick grunts that occasionally came with cleared airways.

He couldn't talk his way out of this. He had nothing on hand to distract them. Using one of his magazines wasn't an option either; the mere _act_ of opening a pouch would produce a sound that was comparable to a car flooring its engines in this silence they're in. Had he somehow managed to accomplish this in complete and utter quietude, there was still the strong possibility these soldiers were going to catch a blue blur throwing an object from a few steps ahead.

As blue hands reached for the SIG P239 sitting in his baldric's holster, crimson spheres found their way gazing at the white cat a mere several meters ahead of them, stacked on the other side. Tailmon's mouth was bent upwards in an angry snarl. Her own canines were out in the open, and her sapphire orbs appeared to glow as though signaling her intent to leap right out into the open and hypnotize the soldiers with _Cat's Eye_. From here Veemon felt the vibrations her body was making. Should he have been close enough to hold her paws, he might have even noticed the sweat pouring out of them.

He knew what was making her anxious, imagined what sort of questions ran through that feline head at this moment. Were any of these soldiers immune to its hypnotic effects, like Kurata Akihiro? Was it possible to catch _all six_ at once and send them all packing their bags to Dreamland? Or would it be better to cease the entire stealth and "shadow of the night" thing and go on the offensive?

Such questions became irrelevant when his scarlet eyes glimpsed Hikari Yagami digging into a trash can behind her, pulling out a half-empty _Asahi Super Dry_ with a look of disgust evident in her countenance, gripped the white aluminum bottle by the neck, aimed into the wide corridor, and tossed the damn thing up at the ceiling well on the other side of the divider with all the strength she could put into it without gasping like a lady in her heated orgasm.

The sound was jarring. It broke the silence so thoroughly Veemon was certain all six patrolmen twisted their heads the instant the bottle struck the concrete. Had he been wrong, he shouldn't have decided to set his hands on the floor. He shouldn't have sprinted as quickly as possible on all fours with dread and alarm bells ringing in his conical ears. He shouldn't have made it without a single gunshot erupting in his ear. In fact, all three of them shouldn't be standing at the lip of the corridor to the Second Gate, panting heavily and looking back at the group of soldiers spreading out, alert, wary, and FN FAL's poised to shoot.

"Ha, ha," the dragon puffed, his head and back leaning against the wall. "T-that… that was... that was so—whhheeeeww!"

To the right, Hikari Yagami _slid_ down the wall, looking a little weary from the rapid scurry. Veemon hoped it was more of the built-up apprehension than a lack of stamina. Even if Hikari had the slightest bit of training these past three years, she wouldn't be this tired already.

To the left, Tailmon edged along the corner and stared at the DSI patrol they barely evaded. Her expression did not belong to someone exhaling with relief nor was it characteristic of a weary runner. It was a look of constant vigilance, of an expert in covert missions, and of someone who absolutely **never** relaxes until safety was all but assured. "We can't stay here. Too many patrols in the Hubs and—

"It'll be the same for the Nine Gates, huh?" Hikari insinuated.

Tailmon's silence on the matter was disconcerting. "Let's go. It isn't safe."

Each railway platform in the complex had four access points. Two from the Hub and the gigantic hangar itself. Another two to the barracks and armories. The redundant structural design clicked in Veemon's head. Anyone who needed rail transportation can access the underground system from literally every point in the complex save the center that housed the Digital Dive System and the elevators heading up the skyscraper.

If he and Tailmon remembered the scale right, according to the 3D Map, the corridor originating from the Hub wasn't too far off. After they descended the stairs back to the first level, the Second Gate's railway platform should be distant enough for a five minute walk in normal circumstances, when nobody had to worry about DSI patrols or security cameras and the ODC's nasty algorithms.

For Veemon, these were **not** normal circumstances. He knew for a fact the distance to the Second Gate's platform required nearly three times the expected travel time if they had to worry about _both _the digital security and the patrols. Eliminating just the former reduced this by half, but that was still time exposed to danger, too much time for his liking.

The Child of Light needed ten seconds to get up, pat the dust off her citrine blouse and auburn pants, take her position between him and the white cat, and start walking. During this time, Daisuke's surrogate brother stretched his arms. "I'm ready," he said when he was done, earning a nod from both Tailmon and her human half in response.

As they left, the dragon lowered his hand to one of the eight pouches on his baldric. He remembered exactly where he stowed Christopher's DITE. For good luck—or a little bit of comfort, he stroked the contours of the collapsed spatha, rubbed his warm, leathery hand on its shape and form and though he couldn't see the ebony blade, couldn't feel the sleek and tough metal through the nylon fabric, Veemon felt safer, more confident about their mission. It was a security blanket to him, yet this symbol of penance—or backup plan, as Tailmon would believe—failed to erase the concerns rising in the back of his mind. Concerns that persisted despite Veemon's attempts at dismissal, that declared the futility of fighting the Digital Suppression Initiative in their home turf and deemed irrelevant Veemon's miraculous luck and his possession of the Ultimate Sword.

Despite his paranoia's insistence, the dragon's luck proved reliable once again. All three of them made it to the corridor without any trouble. They weren't forced to stack up behind pillars, dig in trash cans for bottles and other instruments of diversion, or hide in rooms, for they encountered no patrol at all. "All right!" Veemon muttered a soft whoop as he slipped into the marked hallway fifteen seconds before the first soldier walked into sight, leading a squad from one of the barracks with sleepy eyes and the occasional yawning.

This corridor was slightly larger than the other branching corridors, and only an idiot would overlook the obtuse angle of its downward slope. "So their trucks and bikes can go here too," he observed, recalling how the railway platforms were connected to the Hubs, the Gates, and their ancillary facilities.

Veemon saw for himself how the DSI's architects designed this gargantuan underground base with such immense interconnectivity when he followed Hikari and Tailmon into the Second Gate's railway platform. Support pillars that have been intermittently placed every thirty meters populated this section the way multi-armed Saguaro cacti dotted the landscape of Arizona's Sonoran desert. "Good cover." All four entrances were large enough for vehicles to pass through, and Veemon swore to the Harmonious Ones he could sense the touch of the Digital World permeating the surrounding concrete. "Not only the DDS."

"You feel it, too?" Tailmon asked him while they sauntered to one of the vacant rails. (There were two sides. In other words, two different trains.)

"Yeah," the digimon of the brightest blue shot back. "What do you think it's for?"

"Don't ask me," she stated candidly. "The DSI's got reasons for putting up Digital Fields we can't see."

Yagami threw her own thoughts into the thinking pot. "Well, it isn't saturating the base," she spoke, having been filled in about this peculiar fact earlier during her descent down the secret passage. "That's got to mean something."

"It does," her partner agreed.

Tailmon was the first to arrive at the end of the platform. There were no safety rails and no distinct markings or signs other than a yellow bar six inches before the edge. "Reminds me of Beijing," Veemon mumbled, letting a brief memory of the past distract him for a moment.

The cat did not hesitate and jumped down. A solid, six-foot drop. "Careful," she warned. "It's a steep drop."

Her warning was unnecessary. Hikari slid to the edge and descended with her hands still gripping the platform, waiting until her feet were roughly a foot and a half from the bottom. Her best friend's partner looked like he needed this more than she did, being a three-foot dragon. Veemon defied his short stature and hopped down, scarlet eyes recognizing the sheets of metal running along both sides of the track.

It looked like multiple two-plug outlets installed onto the walls, one after another, leaving no space for even a sheet of bond paper to slide between them. "Whoa, it's a maglev." He marveled at the track's gargantuan width. "And I bet it's **huge. **The guideway's wider than the one in Yamanashi! It might even be _faster._"

The Chosen Child restrained her wonder. "I think we should stay away from the tracks—

Veemon disagreed. "We don't need to. Maglevs have onboard batteries. No running electricity unless the train's near."

Whatever fright the woman held within her deflated immediately, as her breathing relaxed and her heartbeat slowing down to a state that could be considered "peaceful" relative to the immense stress she must have been deferring during this infiltration. But before the dragon managed a smile at that, Tailmon soured his mood with a glum, offhand comment. "_Passengers_ aren't the only ones this train's moving…"

"What else, then?" He paid no attention to the dark tunnel they were walking into. "Experiments? Slaves? **Glorified pets**?" The dragon's muzzle curled into a disgruntled frown, remembering the vagrant Cupimon and that girl's Kapurimon with such clarity that an echo of his horror—at their inability to articulate anything beyond their names or their animalistic behavior—claimed him, sending uncomfortable shivers down his spine. "I don't **want** to think about the digimon rounded up and sent through here. It's too, too…"

Too _depressing_, Veemon intended to verbalize, but instead his voice yielded to silence. A silence that reigned king over all three Chosen, despite the fact they were now clear to talk and make as much noise as they want to. Tailmon's night vision was not the pitiful waste it had been during their "urban spelunking" through a raging sewer. Light bulbs flickered above them, giving the tunnel a dim, copper glow.

Walkways for maintenance personnel ran along the sides, elevated at least six feet above ground. They began not long after the mouth of the tunnel, leading Veemon to think these were accessed from the platforms themselves, or the narrower, ancillary halls surrounding it. Propped by solid reinforced concrete, the Digimon of Miracles flung the occasional glance at the white sheets of metal flanking the group. Had he been more informed about the SCMaglev's electrodynamic suspension system—the probable inspiration for this subterranean behemoth—Veemon would have known about the powerful magnets behind each sheet, all arranged to thrum in rhythm of the electricity flowing from car to rail.

Five minutes elapsed, yet the Third Gate remained slightly more than a speck on the horizon. "Let's move it," the white cat encouraged. "We're running out of time here and we **still** have four more platforms to go." _Too bad the tunnels aren't vertical. _Veemon thought the way he made a shortcut out of that long climb down the secret passage was a spark of genius, no matter how reckless it was.

Life was about taking risks. Nothing extraordinary could **ever** be achieved by erring on the side of caution, by being so conservative the mere option of breaking away, of becoming a _deviant_, caused paralysis. Veemon, mirroring his beloved Daisuke, loved the thrill of risk-taking and greatly enjoyed the rewards reaped from it.

The penalties? Looking back at the past week, or the last three years for that matter, not so much.

"Hikari."

The 21-year old did not reply with her coquelicot gaze, but Veemon knew from the discreet nod of her head and the subtler lean of her ears she was listening to him.

"This leads to R&D, right?"

It was not so much as a question as it was a statement of fact, yet the junior Yagami answered it all the same. "Yes." Only a single word left her mouth, yet the manner that graced her tongue alerted Veemon to a wariness towards whatever came next from his.

He gave her nothing to follow up on, choosing to dwell on the despicable man that had manipulated and deceived him without remorse. If Chris **really **had his way with the Core Group after Veemon absconded the scene in utter shock and betrayal—just imagining him block the way out and **threaten** the Chosen Children's relatives made him seethe!—wouldn't he be down here at the moment? Wouldn't he be invading the DSI from its front doors _right now_?

He was just on the other end of these rails, kilometers away at the R&D Wing—Gods knew where that place actually was. Could Chris, for once, look beyond the mirror and do something about the trains? Destroy this maglev? Completely obliterate it all to the extent it would take the Digital Suppression Initiative no less than a decade to rebuild the entire network? Could he do it for him? For them? For what's right?

Tailmon interrupted his hopeful wishes with a sharp cough. "Veemon." Her verbalization was a sharp blade that cut through rocks. A massive fan blowing away the fog enshrouding his thoughts. "We already talked about this."

_Don't get your hopes up._

The unspoken sentence seeped through his system at a speed that would surely leave Daisuke Motomiya in the dust.

"If it can't figure into what he wants, he **won't **care." Cerulean eyes sent him a fleeting glance, laced with enough pity to compel someone into feeding a homeless person for months. "I understand what you're going through—why you're still dwelling on it, but face it, whatever you're thinking … that isn't happening."

Hikari neither turned to him nor complemented Tailmon's response, but her head bobbed in agreement regardless.

Veemon pouted. There was no use replying. The two Chosen of Light were going to repeat the discussion they've had at the Li household a few hours ago, and their opinions were no more fixed than the stars blanketing the night sky. Yet the blue dragon knew it was as pointless for him to clutch the pouch holding the DITE and hope for something more.

Even if it was a stupid thing to do.

What miniscule probabilities were there for the blond to sorrow over his choices were overshadowed by the colossal odds Chris left the ebony sword with him as insurance. That he did it not for penance, not for disgrace, and most certainly not for the validation of the relationship Veemon held so closely he became a temporary stand-in for the Child of Miracles. Seeing this ruse for what it truly was and catching on to this vile "backup plan" to use the blue dragon's connections and mislead him once again was ridiculously easy.

Veemon preferred being stupid. Preferred to reject the reality around him and choose to uphold his ideals no matter what was thrown at his face. He was not going to change **anything** for the sake of the world.

_I'm an idiot, too, aren't I?_

A stubborn idiot who displayed his maudlin heart for all to see and insisted on whatever **he **wanted with as much persistence and doggedness as an adolescent human.

Brighter, fluorescent lights brought Veemon out of his self-reflections, reminded him to check his surroundings. Scarlet eyes caught on to the Third Gate's platform directly above him, before the gaze made their descent and fell on Hikari Yagami's rear. He stopped instantly, and not a second too soon. He was inchesaway from stabbing his horn through the ridge of her pants. If that had happened, perhaps even Patamon and Takeru would be laughing at him wherever they were as he suffered utter humiliation from an overprotective Tailmon and her paws… least of all causing a disturbance that might've alerted any nearby patrols to their stealth mission.

"Why're we stop—

Tailmon shut him up, her petrifying glare enthralling him a split second before Hikari had the chance to furrow her eyebrows and shush him like a librarian. The digimon nudged her muzzle upward, and it wasn't difficult to get the message, even for someone as dense as the blue dragon.

_Another patrol_.

Veemon wiped his mind clean of doubts—of wishful speculation—of any insights about himself and the people around him. The Child level lowered his center of gravity, creeping to the opening on the other side, trying hard not to let the soldiers' breathing and the heavy footfalls of their boots bother him. Ahead, Hikari and Tailmon were practically tiptoeing to the tunnel, and the two of them were holding hands. The former's heartbeat was pounding swiftly, her sweat glistening under his scarlet gaze. The latter held her human half, her grip as firm as that of a parent or a significant other, as if she had been holding Patamon by the paw and refused to let go no matter what happened.

"Nearly there," Hikari whispered her articulation. It was too soft, too hushed to be heard by human ears.

Dread filled Veemon every time they had to evade the guardsmen. The experience was no more nerve-wracking than shimmying across wild, uncontrolled storm water in a cramped, slimy, and disgusting sewer pipe, barely inches above the volatile rush. One wrong move, one misstep, one single mistake, and it would all be over. A race against time would begin and they'd have to do everything they could to avoid being surrounded and captured by the Digital Suppression Initiative.

An involuntary twitch tugged Veemon's tongue into the open air. He was too busy concentrating to notice the bright crimson muscle sticking out of his muzzle. Fixing his attention on the six soldiers close by. _And we __**still**__ have to go through this __**three**__ more times? _He blanched at the thought.

Hikari was almost smiling now. They nearly made it! A few more meters—no more than ten long strides and they would be home free, free from another ordeal like this, at least until the next Gate. She was probably thinking how fortunate they were. Perhaps the woman was speculating just how far Veemon's luck went, wondering if it could get them as far as the Sixth Gate regardless of the fact the digimon himself had no idea how to master it if it turned out to be an authentic and uncanny ability within his control.

But in the end, Veemon's own paranoia, Veemon's gut feelings from the First Hub were right on the money. The blue dragon's impeccable luck had finally run out on them, and he realized it as soon as thick sheets of metal collapsed ahead. Slammed right on top of Tailmon, nearly pinning her arm had Hikari's reflexes taken two seconds longer to act. They were cut off from the Third Gate. All three of them.

Crisp and snappy sounds shattered the anxious silence and resonated in their ears. Only because of his training with Commandramon and countless movies and videogames experienced with his surrogate brother did the Child digimon recognize them for what they were.

Safety locks being disabled.

Weapons being raised.

Six shadows clambering across the guideway, accompanying the footsteps.

Other than the dolor introduced to him by the revelation of Christopher's betrayal, Veemon had never known terror and distress as intensely—as _intimately_—as ever before.

"Don't move."

* * *

Hikari's jaw slackened at the sight of six guards standing above them. The light, camouflage gray of their BDU's looked like it blended in with the concrete corridors if they weren't already plastered over with wallpaper and other coverings of corporate design. A whimper with a nervous tremble flew out of her mouth at the sight of six assault rifles trained at the three of them.

How did they know? How did they find out? The DSI's overconfidence in its external security, its supercomputers, and its algorithms ensured there weren't **any **cameras, **any **detection systems blanketing the platforms and their tunnels. Weren't the three of them out of sight anyway? The Chosen Child swore they were a full six feet beneath the platform. They shouldn't have been seen. They **couldn't** have been spotted—

"ODC. This is Sergeant Igarashi."

Coquelicot eyes snapped to the man at the very rear. His gloved fingers hovered next to what looked like a Bluetooth earpiece, the soldier's stern gaze landing on the group and rotating among all three of them. The other patrolmen exhibited impressive self-restraint, despite giving off the appearance they could fire a shot at any time if the way their trigger fingers were fidgeting, if how they swiveled their barrels from Hikari to Tailmon to Veemon to Hikari again indicated anything.

Sweat barreled down the sides of her head and dampened her clothed arms. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen!

"We just confirmed three bogeys in Platform III. They were using the tunnels to bypass the patrol units." The Sergeant gave them a fleeting look, staring at the two digimon with her. "One tamer and a couple SCAI's. White cat and blue dragon." Thankfully ignorant of Tailmon's true level, "Both most likely Rookie class."

Then Igarashi's attention fell on the two handguns on Hikari's and Veemon's persons. "They've got a couple guns. Maybe this group's responsible for the camera problems you've been having at the DDS."

Yagami brought her hand down, inching a little closer to the ceramic gun on her belt. Her coquelicot gaze focused on the solid, black vests on the six patrolmen. Nonlethal bullets weren't going to hurt them unless they were shot in the head, and even then, the best she could manage to do was knock them out.

So much for the Office of Detection and Containment's complete dependency on the RFID system and the algorithms backing it up. Their luck had reversed on them when they least expected it. Unfair as it was to pin the whole thing on the Digimon of Miracles, Hikari guessed the rumors and myths concerning his species were unfounded after all.

Otherwise, the miraculous success the Chosen have had so far wouldn't have evaporated right when they needed it the most. What a time to learn the truth!

**Two **gunshots suddenly cracked her hearing and compounded the tension, severely increasing the pressure already mounting on her chest. "Eek!" the adult yelped, her hand retreating from the holster. Blood oozed out the edge of her left pinky, having been grazed by the bullet. If the patrolman had aimed a few millimeters further to the right, Taichi's sister might have lost one of her fingers that night.

She wasn't the only one. Hikari barely registered Veemon's pained rumbling and the sight of the blue dragon cupping his right arm.

Sergeant Igarashi focused on the scene in front of him but did nothing, for he _clearly_ trusted the soldiers under him to know exactly what to do without his guidance. Seeing it in action like this would have been impressive if it didn't have to do with their infiltration, if it took place in the movie screen, or if they were fighting for the Digidestined rather than the Digital Suppression Initiative.

Free from the responsibility of controlling their three new captives, the squad leader continued his conversation with the ODC representative. This time Hikari Yagami couldn't catch **his** side of the dialogue, not with the other DSI patrolmen shouting in her face.

"Damn it," one of the guards grumbled. "We were being nice and this is what we get." He took initiative immediately, stepping forward and training the FN FAL on Hikari's forehead. "ARMS UP AND BEHIND YOUR HEADS!"

A _third_ patrolman fired a warning shot. She felt the bullet strike the guideway _dangerously close_ to Veemon's foot. "We won't warn you again."

Daisuke's partner jerked from the vibration it made through the cement and the pebbles splashing out of it with the violence, velocity, and direction of water instigated with a fist-sized rock hurled into a shallow pond. "Grrrr!" A vicious snarl rippled from his neck, as though threatening the man to try it again.

All it did was reinforce modern society's pervasive fallacy of digimon being mere animals driven by instincts. Dangers to everyday human life.

"ARMS UP AND BEHIND YOUR HEADS. NOW!"

Hikari ground her teeth from pure helplessness. Evolution won't help now, not when the DSI could simply end it all with a single shot not to the white cat, not to a sphinx or an angel, but to the fragile woman standing next to her. Her partner's _Cat's Eye_ wasn't going to work either, not with the number of people watching over them.

She didn't want to reveal the whole setup they had with Kurata and the DDS. If Hikari resorted to that, then was she no different from SkullSatamon during the Ginza incident? How was she any more ethical—any more "good" than a monster that attempted to pacify the Chosen Children with a school bus full of innocent children? Than a vampire who blackmailed a Chosen digimon with the lives of innocents to find her destined partner? Why would a hostage taker, a **terrorist** deserve something as holy, as angelic, and as pristine as the Crest of Light?

Tailmon's upbringing under Vamdemon might have desensitized her to this hypocrisy, but not Hikari. There was no possible way she could even accept this backup plan.

With that, the immense grief and melancholy of absolute **failure** ensnared her very being, threatening to set loose all the tears that were now pooling within her sclera—blurring her vision. Hikari's slender, clothed arms quivered and trembled and shuddered at the future the Digidestined received, at the crushing victory the DSI won. Her body resisted as much as it could, but this did not stop the Child of Light from complying with the patrolman's orders slowly.

"NOW! NOW! DO IT NOW OR WE'LL SHOOT!"

Coquelicot eyes panned between her two nonhuman companions. Her gaze shifted from her human half to Motomiya's surrogate brother. The two of them were in the process of complying when Veemon's inhaled sharply. His smooth arms ceased their gradual ascend and in its stead his scarlet eyes dilated in the presence of unparalleled foreboding. "Four Gods," he murmured.

A guard whipped her FN FAL on Veemon. "You've been warned," she said and pulled the trigger.

Tailmon reared her legs and, within a split second, Hikari found her surrogate sister soaring in the air towards the other digimon. She dove in front of Veemon and took a shot meant for his heart. The 7.62mm bullet did not penetrate her feline body. Neither did it sink deep beneath her skin. It bounced off her shoulder, but that did not happen without damage. The bullet broke through the skin with such force the Chosen would have an unsightly bruise within minutes. A shot like that from the FN FAL could have sent Tailmon flying if she was a Child level like her colleague.

But the shock of this realization and the blunt trauma inflicted on her shoulder was the least of Tailmon's concerns right now. Preempting any of the patrolmen's responses, "**WE HAVE A HOSTAGE**! We have Dr. Kurata Akihiro detained in the Digital Dive System's mainframe and rigged the entire chamber with multiple C4 charges set to _our_ life signs.

"Kill even one of us and it'll all _blow_ and DSI Japan loses its onlydefense against the Digital World **AND ITS CREATOR WITH IT**!"

_We're terrorists. _"Why?"

Hikari Yagami didn't know **what** to feel when her partner decided to reveal the trump card. To divulge the man they have taken hostage and finally—**officially** adopt the label modern society has branded them with. A source of so much fear in the modern era, popularized by Muslim extremists and clandestine supranationalists.

"Why?"

_We're __**terrorists**__._

"Tailmon." She wanted to lash out and chastise her surrogate sister for unveiling this, but her anger—her righteous fury was unprepared for the confusion settling within the Child of Light. Why was Tailmon saying this? Why was she doing this now, when—

"Hikari," a childlike voice cast a line through the endless void of her revolted thoughts and frantic emotions. She turned towards it and locked eyes with Veemon, whose muzzle grimaced from an intense apprehension that captivated her. She couldn't break away from his horror-struck gaze. "They just got a **kill order**."

The Chosen Child of Light froze. Her own countenance yielded to the same emotions, the same overwhelming fear that stunned Daisuke's human half with such strength it became ostensible.

She believed him. She put as much faith in that reason as she would have if Tailmon spoke it herself.

The natural capabilities digimon shared with humanity were significantly more potent than the average human. More _powerful_. Their line of sight was farther. Their hearing and sense of smell greater and more sensitive than even a dog's. Their faculties of taste and touch were no less than _double_ a human being's, allowing them to explore and experience life at a wholly different level than mankind ever could. Even their memories were impeccable, for they were photographic and very nearly eidetic.

Veemon's testimonial and the contortion on his snout were corroborations enough. The news shocked Hikari Yagami to the core. _They're __**prepared **__to kill us._

Without hesitation.

Without stopping to think about ending someone else's life.

Without questioning the morality.

Without even considering their identities and the value of their very existence.

Ten years ago, Dagomon wanted her alive. The Lord of the Dark Ocean did not want to kill her; he wanted to violate her and turn her into a reluctant queen, because she was "special" among the Chosen Children, because she represented many benefits for the unseen puppeteer, his power, and his future.

Because she embodied the Crest of Light.

Why wasn't the Digital Suppression Initiative giving her similar treatment? Wasn't she important too? Didn't her status as the human incarnation of Light set her apart just as well as Daisuke's Miracles or Taichi's Courage?

* * *

"A kill order?" Mitsuo Yamaki yelled into his earpiece, the rage in his voice capable of scaring the ODC's representative shitless if the person on the other end wasn't _its administrator_. "What do you mean there's a kill order?"

From the looks of it, the Divine Assault couldn't care less if Lucille Diaz stood beside him. If his expressive shout woke Daisuke Motomiya up despite the borderline anemia, muscle atrophy, and the countless drugs keeping him sedated in his tube. Or if his voice was carried beyond the laboratory's walls.

"Tamotsu, I've had capture orders on the Chosen Children and their partners for months!" He slammed his fist on the wall, forgetting the blue energy circling it, activated on his frustration. Lucy knew the reinforced cement would crumble if it wasn't strengthened by the Zone Emulators and the programs embedded in its structure. "Rescind those kill commands immediately," ordered the Vice-Chair. "I _don't_ care how many men and women it'll take! I want them all **alive**."

Lucy's titian pools glanced up at the second level of the Digital Modification lab, where all the research, data processing, and hypothesis testing were conducted. The Modifier already sensed the multiple explosions and savage destruction occurring in the upper levels of the Research and Development Wing. _I'm sure they're using everything we have on hand, maybe some working prototypes, but Christopher's unstoppable. We can't damage him without dark matter. _

If they sprinted all the way with Digital Modification, they were no more than a minute from the bullet train. The more time they wasted here, the more certain Chris would catch them during their escape and eviscerate them both. Lucille Diaz had seen for herself how powerful the blond was. How difficult he was to damage even _with_ the dark matter weapons on hand. "'Divine Assault' or not," the survivor mused, "The DSI can't risk losing its second-in-command."

Diaz strolled closer to the second most powerful man on Earth. "Mitsy." She said, hoping the nickname and its familiar tug to the past had enough pull to quell the Vice-Chair's ferocity. "We need to—

Her suggestion was instantly vetoed by a sheet of white. Mitsuo Yamaki raised a gloved palm towards her and howled into the earpiece. "When did the Chairman override my—last night? While I was meeting with Mr. Abe?"

To think the DSI's Chairman superseded the capture orders literally _hours_ before Hikari and her two SCAI companions inexplicably bypassed the security systems guarding the Shinjuku perimeter. It's as if the person _anticipated_ the Twelve to whip out a daunting rescue mission and cause this unprecedented chain of events. From Hikari's infiltration all the way to Taichi's unexpected jailbreak.

How surprising! The Chairman was known all over the world for his unautocratic approach. His invisible hand was ubiquitous in its multiple programs in Japan and abroad, but not once has he ever shown his face, to the public, to the loyal DSI personnel, to its shareholders, or to its business partners in DSI Global's countless subsidiaries and affiliates. The living enigma favored the benefits of anonymity, leading the direction of humankind's guardian and regulator of self-conscious artificial intelligences through a straw man.

Mitsuo Yamaki, the Divine Assault. Vice-Chairman and _de facto_ controller of the Digital Suppression Initiative.

That the Chairman intervened directly in the face of massive uncertainty and _made the right call_ relayed an abundance of signals pertaining to his ability to read the leylines of the world around him. A true visionary. The SCAI industry's counterpart of the late Steve Jobs.

Lucille's awe for the Chairman was growing more and more during her cogitations.

In contrast, Yamaki was scowling, his lips on the brink of frothing from the recent turn of events. The ODC Administrator heard him seething. Even someone as focused on security and protection as Tamotsu Maruyama might hesitate on obstructing an enraged Yamaki. "Damn the chain of command! Maruyama, rescind—

Disregard the Chairman's override? Toss the organizational structure away? Risk his position? Jeopardize the privileges he's earned through his career at DSI Global? All for the lives of two humans and three SCAI's? No! Vice-Chairman Yamaki had gone too far.

"DON'T!" Limbs orbited by the azure energy of Digital Modification, Lucille Diaz thrust her hand at the executive's head, missing his temple by a hair's breadth, snatching the earpiece, and shutting it down before he pursued this madness to the very end.

"Return that to me." His tone sounded neutral, yet Yamaki's ultramarine eyes burned with a fire known only to his enemies. A fiery glaze he revealed to all who dared stand in his way. "All five mustn't be touched, especiallyHikari Yagami. I **refuse** to let the ODC kill them off and do nothing about it!"

The Modifier refused his command, believing her close relationship with the man afforded her some immunity at the very least. "I **won't**," she stood up to him. "Not until you calm the helldown. We don't have time for this. _You're_ being hunted right now and you're dwelling on something else! You can't do anything about the override now. It was made with the best interests of the organization in mind, according to the Chairman'svision. NOT YOURS."

Mitsuo Yamaki's narrowed eyes did not cease their contact with her own, amber pools. Fladramon's gauntlet materialized on his forearm once more, emitting an ominous, orange red, set alight by embers artificially generated by the digivice and the digital particles around them. "This is your last warning."

She tried not to focus on his eyes, not to glance at the fireball enshrouding his arm, and ignore the heat building up from it. A memory of her and the Divine Assault right about to engage in a battle to the death surfaced in Lucy's mind, instigating an odd combination of hatred and apathy, but it was repressed before it could consume her. She was better than that. Better than holding on to the feelings of the past. Better than never moving on, than staying stagnant in one place and obsessing over what was instead of what will.

"Listen to me. You and I disagree on a lot of things. We're always clashing, because of who you really are and what I did. Because both of us are too set in our ideals and beliefs. But I _greatly_ respect what you're trying to achieve and as much as I want to stay out of this, I **don't** want to see you falling just because you caused an internal scandal big enough to undermine the DSI.

"You're letting your personal feelings get the better of you, Mitsy. If I didn't stop you, you might be demoted later, or lose access to the Digital Modification project along with all the functions you're overseeing. Your position, your accomplishments, _and_ your reputation won't deter the Chairman from stripping it all from you. Everything you worked on. If that happened, if you fell, you'd **never** have the chance to meet your goals again."

Lucille Diaz peered at the sedated body of Daisuke Motomiya floating in the tube behind him. She swept the locks of her yellow hair as she stepped closer to the second-in-command. Fortunately for her, Yamaki was not hunched over, looking like a madman ready to maul her. His breathing had slowed. Fladramon's gauntlet finally dissipated into the formless digital particles it once was. His anger, shelved away to a peaceful place, or so the Modifier wanted to believe.

Mitsuo Yamaki did not deny the yellow-haired soldier. "I **AM **taking this personally, Diaz. They're important pieces to the puzzle. Necessary to complete the project, _especially_ the Chosen Children. The Crest of Light can make or break the research we've been conducting in the Digital World. The factors that elevate the Child of Courage can be isolated through the same methodology we used to process Daisuke Motomiya. Their bodies will lead to innovations. Give humankind better chances—better weapons to fight off the digimon the Twelve failed to kill ten years ago when they finally reveal themselves."

"Digimon the Twelve failed to kill?" the Modifier repeated, too astounded to pay any attention to Yamaki's outdated slang. Despite her long career as a soldier, her respected tenure at the Digital Suppression Initiative, and her close relationship with the Vice-Chairman himself, this was the first time she ever heard such information. "You mean, there's still SCAI out there?"

Even though the Chosen Children and their terrorist organization, the _Digidestined_, were outlawed, threats to the cultured society and peace the Digital Suppression Initiative has established, the Twelve deserved some credit nonetheless. Up until March 2003, they found themselves at the front lines of the struggle to defend human life, alone, obstructing SCAI of such unprecedented cunning and strength that humanity might not have made it to the digital era of the 2010's if their sinister plans followed through.

"SCAI of **that** caliber?" Were the Chosen Children **this **incompetent, failing to even finish the job handed to them? "I don't recall anyone—

"It's common knowledge. Anyone who looked up _Digimon Adventure_ on Wikipedia or watched the _animé _on history channels would know the long-term threats posed by Dagomon and Demon, and believe the DSI can handle them when they decide to act."

"But I—I didn't—

"Lucy, you're too focused with the Digidestined, the Digital Modification project, and _above all _your sole mission in life. I understand your ignorance of the big picture."

The Modifier opened her mouth to rebut, but the entire conversation was derailed by tremors powerful enough to violently shake the Digital Modification laboratory. Explosions and the other effects of battle had drawn closer as she and Yamaki went back and forth on each other with such intensity neither realized Christopher's progress.

Lucille's warrior intuition kicked in. God, hopefully they weren't too late to get out of this mess yet. "ODC," she commenced communications with the security center. "This is Major Diaz. **FLASH. **I'm with Divine Assault in a Class VII R&D facility. I have reason to believe the hostile force causing the clusterfuck above us is after the VIP and we need to get out immediately. What's the situation? Over."

Her earpiece crackled with life the second she shut her mouth. "This is Security Analyst Takashima," the representative on the other line responded promptly.

Due to the sensitivity of the projects undertaken by the R&D Wing and their potential impact to both Japan's national security and the Earth's defenses against hostile SCAI and deluded extremists such as the Digidestined and their international counterparts, the DSI has mandated that all transmissions held by the Office of Detection and Containment involving the R&D Wing must be presided by representatives with sufficient clearance.

The ODC's security analysts were among the best in the industry and well-versed with over ten programming languages and years of experience handling Big Data. While much of Lucy's acquaintances and friends in the M&A Wing have denounced the ODC's policy shift to algorithms and high-speed infrared cameras, they were nonetheless competent with their jobs, rather than neutered when it came to visual scrutiny of the security feeds. Worth the hefty price tag they took home each year, it seemed.

They were her best bet on learning the current status and addressing it, having a degree of control in the orders issued to the various guardsmen and patrol units stationed throughout DSI Global's headquarters. The Modifier hoped to hear good news from Takashima, but she wasn't expecting too much given her past experience with Christopher Van Numen.

"It isn't good, Major," the analyst retorted grimly. _I knew it_. "Our defenses are being smothered and the blockades barely hold the hostile back before they're completely destroyed. Multiple platoons were deployed to barricade all corridors, but they're being overwhelmed. Teams are currently engaging the hostile in a Class III Digital Particle Physics laboratory."

Multiple platoons? Defenses and blockades? How much resistance was the DSI putting up against the blond? She sought clarification. "What's the ordnance for the defense? Tell me everything!"

"Major Diaz, verify your credent—

"It's LIMA-DELTA-INDIA-ALPHA-ZULU, 7-4-0-5!" The Modifier snapped. Damn these protocols! They've wasted enough time already. "Now hurry up and give me all the details."

Thank the Lord for her work with the Digital Modification project. She couldn't have gotten this intel without it.

"Yes, ma'am. We've activated the _Kagutsuchi_ and _Raijin_ turrets and mandated use of 50 Cals, missiles, and other small arms weapons, all fitted with AutoMod attachments. Champion and Ultimate class Combat SCAI's were authorized, but **nothing's working** on the hostile. According to the live feeds, bullets are ricocheting; explosives, caught in midair and hurled back; electric, flame, and piercing AutoMods, ineffective; and the SCAI's aren't inflicting any significant damage."

"Give me a casualty and damage report."

"DSI _fatalities_, Major," Takashima emphasized, "amount to one battalion. We've already lost 200 SCAI's, 70 turrets, and 40 TALON's. All numbers rising rapidly."

The Modifier's heart skipped a beat at the reported figures. One battalion—almost one fourth of the guards garrisoned in the R&D Wing—amounted to close to 300 people, each fine men and women with loved ones and dependents, husbands and wives and children. In just one night 300 families were stricken with grief, and knowing how Chris treated her comrades and his so-called "allies", there probably wasn't anything left to mourn over. The 200 SCAI's lost represented approximately 70% of the population stored next to the multiple barracks for immediate access. With the thousands of idle, domesticated SCAI's idling within the confines of another Class VII facility, supply was becoming short.

The danger Christopher now posed to the Digital Suppression Initiative was unprecedented. In fact, _far_ _beyond _the parameters he himself demonstrated during the Midnight Assault. Last week, the digital modifications they used dealt minor damage, if not _negligible_, when unsupported by dark matter. Tonight, it seemed as though he'd grown immune. Became absolutely invulnerable. Impervious to any and all sort of damage from weapons that would've caused the swift end of any Chosen Child who dared to assault the R&D Wing as blatantly as he did.

Lucille Diaz couldn't think of any reason that would bless the man with a power-up like this. What could possibly happen in one mere week other than a time of peace, calm, and—

No. Her stomach curled into a sickening knot, and it was evident in her hollow expression. Was this his real strength, restored to Chris by a week's worth recuperating? The stuns and knockbacks he endured in the Satellite Base—these advantages the Modifiers abused on him as much as the dark matter weapons—he was susceptible to them only because his body was **weak** during the time?

Had he been as well-rested and energized, could Christopher have overwhelmed the fifteen Modifiers as easily and as effortlessly as he was now overpowering the best defenses the DSI had to offer?

"Major Diaz, I say again." The ODC's security analyst pulled the Modifier back to reality, away from another gruesome recognition of the massive role luck had played in her survival that night. "Authenticate your mention the hostile has reason to target Divine Assault. Over."

"I authenticate." Before a response was even formulated, "The details are classified. Takashima, relay to Twin Towers to meet us at the Nine Gates. We're heading for M&A using the maglev. The VIP might need to dive."

"With all due respect, ma'am, the Digital Dive System has been bomb—

"An alternate entry point has been prepared in case of emergency," Lucille verbalized, injecting enough emphasis to hone the fact the analyst was now treading on high-level secrets, known only to the upper echelons of the Digital Suppression Initiative. The soldier locked eyes with the Vice-Chairman, whose indigo stare was as cold and emotionless as the night sky. Intimidating to some, but the message behind it as clear as day. "Takashima, no more questions. How much time can the guardsmen give us?"

If the ODC's representative found her curt opacity frustrating, his professional demeanor did not show anything. An amazing display of character, considering it was somewhere between four and five in the morning and Takashima had barely enough sleep. "At the rate we're losing soldiers, about five minutes. The hostile's just broken through our forces at the Class IV facilities."

"Shit."

Five minutes was **not** a lot. One was already spent _traveling_ to the maglev. A few more were needed to boot up the electrodynamic system and get the train going. If Yamaki needed to escape from this without coming face to face with that _monster_, Lucille Diaz had to stay and fight the invader and delay him for as long as she could before the man slew her like all the other DSI guardsmen.

Facing Christopher Van Numen at his best frightened Lucille Diaz to no end. Had she been less deserving of her rank or less experienced in combat, she might have even been paralyzed by the anxiety and pressure that came with the prospect of meeting him in combat.

If she wanted this stupid plan to succeed, they needed to leave **now**. Chris could only be delayed from his goals for so long.

"Exercise caution. Administrator Maruyama can't figure out **what** we're dealing with here. The algos flagged him as human, but from everything we're getting here, we've never come across something like this."

"We'll think of something. Major Diaz out."

"Good luck."

Her trepidation must have been tangible for the ODC analyst to answer back, even in verbal communication. Mr. Takashima was a good man. In all likelihood, he was wishing this long and painstaking night was done and over with. But with Veemon and the Yagami siblings wreaking havoc in M&A and Chris leaving behind a trail of annihilation in R&D, there was no end to the madness. Not anytime soon.

His parting words, as sympathetic and supportive as they were, were nothing more than empty platitudes for someone preparing to challenge a God Moder.

* * *

Tailmon grimaced at the patrol unit standing on the platform above. They still had those rifles aimed at them, but whatever enthusiasm they had for shooting all three dead evaporated as soon as she revealed the hostage. Thank the Four Gods they didn't kill Kurata! This was exactly the situation they needed him for, the very problem that could doom the situation and result in their deaths or a catastrophic combination of Hikari's imprisonment and her and Veemon's enslavement under the vicious system that drove modern society at the expense of digimon throughout the Real World.

Her cerulean eyes narrowed, striped tail as rigid as it could ever be. Her paws were leaking profuse volumes of sweat, but she balled them into something that passed for fists than strip her façade naked before the Digital Suppression Initiative and show how nervous she was. These people were just grunts. The lowest rung on the ladder. If she could intimidate them into leaving them alone or put them in a position where she and Veemon could take care of them without too much effort, that would be ideal.

Should the Digimon of Light ask her colleague how her persuasive her attempts were at intimidation, Veemon would not hesitate to inform Tailmon how her piercing glare could not possibly compare to Christopher's distinctive scowl.

"Bullshit!" spat a guard. The same one who raised her assault rifle on Veemon. "There's no way you could've gotten in there."

She tapped the dragon's wrist. Veemon snapped to attention—hopefully Hikari had enough information on her hands to know how much danger they were in now. "Show them the card, now."

"O-on it," he mumbled while rummaging through his pouches. The dragon was no less anxious than she was. Perhaps even more so. He was a mere Child level, after all. With his current form, Veemon was weak. Even with the shorter center of gravity, the quicker reflexes, and the denser bone structure, he was no different from a human adult—or a _preadolescent_ for that matter, since he's now as tall as Daisuke was in the old days.

_Patamon_ would've had it easier. The hamster's diminutive size would've guaranteed better evasion from their bullets than Veemon could ever have, plus invisible, rapid fire bursts of air to pester the soldiers with. Such random distractions might have allowed Tailmon to hypnotize them one by one until all were down or the remainder was easy enough to address.

But Patamon wouldn't have wanted Tailmon to go through with this. He wouldn't have wanted them to bomb the Digital Dive System. He wouldn't have wanted a hostage, not with such a gentle nature, even if it _was_ Kurata—even if his human half disagreed on the naïve, idealists' way of doing things.

Then again, maybe they wouldn't have been caught. Maybe they would've had a real scout on hand. Nimble, difficult to see, and hard to shoot. Between him and Veemon, maybe they would have had a real shot at following through with their objectives without a mistake as egregious as this.

_Damn it, I miss you. I miss you very, very much._

"Aha." A muted gasp of delight updated her on her colleague's progress.

"Now raise it, Veemon." _Raise it so high they won't mistake it for anything else_.

At the sight of the Head Scientist's keycard, the skeptical soldier recognized the contours and the various shapes printed on it from a ten-foot distance. "H-hey," she stammered, eyes dilating. "H-h, h-hey!" One of her arms went flailing. "S-someone, somebody verify that!"

This new development did not escape their leader's notice. "Wait. Out." Then a crisp bark, "Toraichi! Snap a pic and relay to ODC."

The patrolman that ordered all three of them to raise their arms behind their head stepped forward and took a smartphone from his pockets. A Samsung Galaxy. The soldier brought his phone to bear and trained it on the group, lens focused on the card in Veemon's hand. He was zooming it in as much as he could, taking ten long, harrowing seconds before a _snap_ cracked the ominous silence.

"ODC," Igarashi reopened his line. "This is Igarashi. Priority. Ack receipt of photograph." A pause. "Verify validity of ID card. Is it a fake?"

The Digimon of Light shuddered, and it was not from the air-conditioning. Their lives—this _mission_ depended on their survival, on their escape. No room for error. If the DSI didn't believe this was real…

"You don't need to do that!" Veemon clamored, raising his voice so everyone heard him. So he had everybody's attention. Loud and clear. "I stole the keycard from him. I curbstomped the nerd and swiped it from his pockets. We got in one of the rooms thanks to this!"

Sergeant Igarashi went about getting validation of Veemon's claims, demanding the ODC representatives to review Dr. Akihiro's movements on the digital records. Tailmon—and neither did Veemon—couldn't overhear his conversation as Toraichi challenged the blue dragon where he stood.

"Then what do you want? If we take you seriously, what're you going to demand?"

A smirk on his muzzle. "Easy!" His tongue slipped in and out his mouth, as though he relished his next words. Progress at last, he was probably thinking. "Let Taichi go and give us a free ride to the surface. If you don't…"

"Then what? You'll off yourselves? Slit each other's throats?" He sneered, drawing amusement from his peers. "Those'll do **the** **world** a bigger favor."

"Nnnooooooooooo," Veemon pealed, stowing Kurata's card back in the baldric. "**I'm** going to take **this** out"—a cylindrical object appeared in his hands, straight from the pouch stuffed with C4 charges—"And push the BIG, RED, BUTTON." A big grin. "Five points to someone who guesses what this is!"

Any idiot could tell what the object was. None of the soldiers would have taken the digimon and his singsong chimes seriously if it hadn't been for the detonator showing up in his hands, his thumb ready to push down and deprive Japan of its protection from the Digital World. Tailmon couldn't help smiling. Leave it to Veemon to daunt the soldiers in one of the most childish ways possible and actually get it done.

"Good job," the white cat applauded under her breath. She knew, she knew in her heart that Patamon would agree with her if he was still alive.

The blue dragon merely nodded in reply, preferring to keep his crimson eyes trained on the squad above them, watching their movements. His senses marked their bodies, reading them all to the best of his ability. Tailmon was impressed. No matter how stupid Veemon made himself look like, there was a brain under that head of his. A schemer. A tactician hidden in plain sight.

The act had classic Daisuke Motomiya written all over it. Unlike the other eleven, Veemon was not a foil to his human half. He was not a mere complement to the Chosen Child's character. Veemon was both a genuine reflection of the man's childhood self and a distinct person on his own right. He and Daisuke were similar in so many ways yet divergent in several qualities. For them, the term "surrogate brothers" described their relationship—defined their reality, unlike the platitude, the plain synonym it merely was for everyone else around them, even their own colleagues.

In another universe, in another world, in another story, Daisuke and Veemon might have been twins.

"What're you going to do now, eh?" he jabbed, his tone slightly euphoric. Smug. His heartbeat and breathing betrayed him, but the DSI didn't need to know _that_.

"_This is Administrator Maruyama. ODC has considered their demands and verified their identities. The Chosen—tamers and SCAI—are covered by the Chairman's directives and they are __**final**__."_

Hikari Yagami, however, was **not** happy about this development. But the frown on her face was tempered by the resignation emblazoned on her countenance. She was angry at their act of terrorism. She was disappointed at the level they've lowered themselves to, for they no longer claimed the moral high ground.

Yet she acquiesced to the truth of the matter: if it weren't for the hostage, for the potential loss of the DDS and its designer, its architect, then they wouldn't be in this position. They'd have been apprehended by now, or worse.

Tailmon didn't want to think about "worse".

If Hikari truly wanted to rescue her brother, if Hikari truly cherished the remaining treasures in her life, if Hikari truly and _desperately_ held on to what few memories were left from the Golden Age of digimon, then she needed to think the way Tailmon did. To accept the fact she must be prepared to do anything and everything, even if it cost her—

Everything went wrong.

"_Your orders have not changed, Igarashi. Immediate execute. Shoot to kill."_

* * *

Veemon sprang to action, sprinting to Tailmon's partner as the sergeant's "Wilco, out" sliced the air. In a split-second he was three feet away from her. In another, he was airborne, arms spread wide open to catch Hikari and tackle her to the cement before someone pulled the trigger in between her surprised, coquelicot eyes.

It was a disgraceful landing, and the Child of Light had blood oozing from an unsightly scrape on her cheek and shoulder. He was thankful for being what he was. For being a digimon. Otherwise, he couldn't have heard Maruyama's order without the heightened senses available only to creatures like him, to his own kind. And Hikari Yagami would've been lying on the guideway, with a bleeding hole in the head and a catatonic feline next to her.

Veemon was reeling, suffering from utter disbelief at the order—the blatant disregard the Office of Detection and Containment had just given them.

Why? They had a hostage. They had rigged the explosives to blow at any one of their deaths. They even presented the DSI with a safe route out, where nobody was hurt, where the only blow to the global organization was the loss of Taichi Yagami from their subterranean torture chambers. Why was the DSI throwing all this away? Why disregard the long-term threat this bomb represented to—

No time to think. "Imai, toss a grenade down there!" Igarashi had commanded. "Everyone else, open fire!"

Veemon dropped the detonator and removed the SIG P239 from its holster, but the Harmonious Ones were unkind right now, for one of the patrolmen was way ahead of him and had the FN FAL aimed at his face. "Drop dead!"

"NEKO PUNCH!"

The platform grumbled from the sheer power infusing the attack Tailmon plowed into the magnets and it quivered violently. To the Chosen's surprise, the cement did not break apart. The Digimon of Light was confounded. She was an Adult, empowered by both maturity and her tail ring. The entire platform **should** have been destroyed!

Veemon did not find himself questioning this missed expectation as he did with exploiting this sudden fortune. The soldier's rifle released its bullet into the ceiling and all six stumbled for a moment or two. It granted the Digimon of Miracles two and a half seconds to jump a good six feet without breaking a sweat—a feat normal humans were too weak to do—and fire six times in the squad's general direction while running—staying few precarious steps ahead of a trail of 7.62mm gunfire before hiding behind a column.

Four left in the magazine. Fifty-four left on his possession, all in all. He needed another gun.

"Why?" he screeched. "Why're you all attacking? Weren't you listening? If you kill us, the DDS will go _kablooey_ and—

Sergeant Igarashi's rebuttal was loud and clear amidst the chaos. "The DSI does not negotiate with terrorists, SCAI."

"BUT WE **AREN'T** TERRORISTS!"

"After that stunt with the detonator?" The soldier Imai snorted in reply. "Hypocrites!"

They were going to kill them. _She_ was going to shoot him in the face, because they had standing kill orders on infiltrators like them.

"Like we had a choice." Veemon leaned out of his cover. He managed a couple shots before he retreated, narrowly avoiding twelve rounds in the face.

"Imai, flush it out!"

"Fire in the hole!"

A steel sphere whizzed past Veemon's column, landing on the platform and rolling to a complete stop eight feet away. It was a fragmentation hand grenade, an M67 going by its looks. He paled. These things _killed_ _humans_ within a fifteen feet radius. Child-level digimon, while stronger and faster and possibly more resilient than most humans, were no less vulnerable than they were to weapons like this.

The grenade might just be able to kill him, and like hell was he waiting around to find out if it could. Veemon's feet were already moving, and in a split-second he was out in the open, headed for the far side of another column—

Gunfire burst from the FN FAL's facing him. Veemon returned fire, but his pistol was empty in two pulls of the trigger. "Four Gods!" The Digimon of Miracles did the only thing he could do and performed a leap of faith, somersaulting in the air, hoping his smaller size—a rolling ball of the brightest blue—was worth something.

One of the unnamed patrolmen unloaded his assault rifle back towards the platform as he backpedaled away from the threat unnoticed by the two soldiers focusing on the blue dragon. "Watch out! The cat's—URK!"

The soldier fell to the ground with a loud thud, his body as still as the dead.

"Goggles down, goggles down," Toraichi screamed. "It's going 'Uchiha' on us!" He was scrabbling to put on his tactical goggles, but in his haste he didn't see Tailmon rushing him with a predatory glaze in her shining eyes. The soldier had barely raised his FN FAL when he was forced to abandon it and roll away lest he felt those claws mincing his body into pieces as they did his primary weapon.

Another guardsman opened fire to draw Tailmon's attention. Hollering, "Damn it, Toraichi, say it again! We don't understand your _otaku_ shit!"

Vision impaired by his somersault, the Digimon of Miracles did not see what was going on. If he hadn't been forced to make this leap of faith, this bet on his own miraculous luck—another one in a string of so many he had long lost track—the blue dragon might have seen the same thing Sergeant Igarashi did and witnessed Tailmon sprinting to the other man on all fours, zigzagging closer with an unmistakable carnation lambency suffusing her irises.

The white cat maintained _Cat's Eye_ for far, far longer than Veemon could have expected from her. Anyone who made eye contact with Tailmon ended up no differently from her first victim: paralyzed and unmoving. Virtually dead in all but name. Igarashi would watch her leap into the air as Veemon had just done.

Not to evade gunfire.

Not to get behind cover.

Not to place herself between Veemon and his two shooters.

But to disorient the DSI soldier with her irradiated sight and slam her foot into his knee with the proper strength of an Adult digimon and the sheer power of momentum. The nauseating crack that followed was a distinctive thunder. A crash that masked the pulverized bones and presaged the white fragments sticking out of the leg like a pincushion marred by streams of blood that couldn't be stopped. A resonating bolt that whammed the eardrums of all present, barely preparing the recipients for the subsequent, bloodcurdling scream.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Sergeant Igarashi put on his goggles and screamed his comrade's name, training his rifle at Veemon's colleague. She was flanked by a couple soldiers on the other side, making it difficult to evade the series of bullets bursting from three firearms at once.

Without Igarashi's support, Imai's gunfire followed his path but failed to land a hit. Several rounds struck a large trashcan in between the columns, shielding Veemon as he landed, rolled, and bounded for his destination moments before the M67 exploded into bits of steel and synthetic shards. It was ironic how it had also granted the dragon valuable seconds of rest, having forced Imai into retreating behind her own cover.

Valuable seconds spent reloading his gun.

Valuable seconds put to good use.

Led by quick thinking and intuition, the Child digimon of the brightest blue dashed for the garbage can, sprinting as fast as his feet allowed him to. He knew Imai was coming out any second now, this time undoubtedly used to his speed and more than capable of anticipating his next step and hitting him where and _when_ it mattered.

_Harmonious Ones, this better work!_

* * *

Shot in the head.

If Veemon hadn't pushed her out of the way, she would've been shot in the head.

Killed, just like that. It didn't matter who she was. It didn't matter what sort of thing separated her from even the other Chosen Children. Taichi Yagami's sister. Potential successor of the _Digidestined _leadership. The Child of Light, coveted by Dagomon and a bane to all the darkness in the two worlds.

None of that mattered for the DSI.

She was just a target to them. A human to kill without blinking an eye. Another body to desecrate and ostentatiously display as an ornament of humanity's triumph.

Because of the astonishment, or more likely the blow she endured during the fall, dizziness claimed Hikari. She almost wretched on the guideway, and if it weren't for the gunshots and shouting occurring from the platform above, for the combat the two digimon were engaged in, the junior Yagami might have huddled at some nondescript corner for a moment's rest.

Whether the Child of Light succumbed to her weakness or strengthened her resolve to face her human enemies, Fate had long stripped her of any right to choose, for the DSI soldier known as Toraichi appeared at the edge of the platform. Intent gleamed in the eyes behind the goggles. Taichi's sister scrambled immediately at the sight of him, her hands reaching for two things.

First, the ceramic gun clipped to her waist, the item of last resort.

Second, the detonator Veemon dropped to commence his counterattack.

Toraichi abandoned the elevated platform and took to the guideway, looking like he was gamboling all six feet down. It struck the woman as odd. Why did he do that? Didn't he already have a clear shot of her from up there? Why give up his advantage—

Then she saw the missing rifle. The crinkled, dirty, and abraded uniform. The disheveled hair. The beads of sweat on his head.

All things considered, Toraichi _didn't_ give up his advantage. He had already lost it when Tailmon's _Neko Punch _gave the opening Veemon used to leap up and start the gunfight. Their defeat was virtually ensured when Hikari's surrogate sister herself joined in. In fact, by joining the Chosen Child of Light in the guideway, he _regained_ this advantage.

Not only did he escape the two digimon who were presumably taking down his colleagues with ease and efficiency, but also cornered Tailmon's partner. Tailmon's human half.

Everything would conclude in the DSI's favor if he disposed the 21-year old woman in front of him. It would all be over. The Adult Tailmon would permanently enter a state of catatonia in minutes, her body doomed to do nothing except shut down. The blue dragon accompanying them would be easy to dispatch after, as the Twelve's strongest was stuck in his Child level.

With Tailmon and Veemon busy handling Toraichi's colleagues above, Hikari was left to fend for herself. What instincts she inherited from Taichi Yagami were blaring. They shrieked at her, urging her to move, take command, and retake a position of power before it was too late. She only had seconds to spare. Seconds counting down to her death, to their failure, to—

Coquelicot eyes pinpointed the M9 pistol in the soldier's holster and the hands descending rapidly to take it. She did not have seconds. She had merely moments. Fortunately for Hikari, her gun had already been raised by the time Toraichi's fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt.

From the time she began her upward motions, the Chosen Child pulled the trigger thrice, and in rapid succession. Her own meager luck and what little skill she must have had with the ceramic firearm became palpable when her first shot somehow aggressed into her opponent's firearm and pitched the M9 far into the yawning darkness of the tunnel behind him. Her second and third were aimed straight for Toraichi's head.

The former hammered his goggles' straps and knocked the headgear away, while the latter smashed the corner of an eye.

Toraichi staggered in response to three consecutive strokes. Blood splattered from his eye, bursting from the punctured blood vessels lining the organ. One of the ugliest bruises Hikari had ever seen from a nonlethal round was quickly forming and aggravated the injury. The DSI guardsman barely grasped the facts he was just shot in the face and he _survived_ it when the adult woman seized control. "I, I-I, I'm still, alive…"

He eyed her curiously. "Nonlethal?" The curiosity in his stupefied gaze morphed into relief…

Toraichi toddled towards her, closing the gap between them. Yagami speculated why he wasn't charging her this very moment, why he wasn't retreating to retrieve his firearm. Perhaps he was still testing the waters. Perhaps he was still skeptical, still disbelieving that a clean hit to the head—what would—what _should_ have been instant death—left him bleeding but very much alive with swift heartbeats audibly declaring it to all who had ears sharp enough to discern it.

"Stay right where you are!" Hikari aimed down the sights and took a second longer than comfortable to target the clothed, unarmored leg. It wasn't a bulls-eye, but it grazed the target anyway. Toraichi blinked from the pain and flinched at the blunt trauma on his thigh. If her actions called attention to the nature of her weapon, maybe, just maybe she could excogitate his appreciation of life. That the Chosen Child **brought a nonlethal gun** for the sole purpose of respecting the potentiality of her human opponents, for understanding that everyone deserved a second chance.

If she somehow communicated how lucky the soldier was to be alive, perhaps there was hope they could still get out of this without killing them all. All Toraichi needed to do was convince his teammates to stand down, or let themselves be subdued—incapacitated, at best. They would be rescued when the danger was over. They would be all and well. Best of all, Hikari Yagami wouldn't feel the desolation that the loss of life beckoned within her.

…then the relief in his thankful gaze morphed into glimmering opportunity.

The guardsman's fluctuant toddles became tenacious strides. Purposeful and brimming with confidence.

"Stay back!" Hikari yelled at him. He did not listen. "I said stay back!"

_BANG!_

This time, the junior Yagami shot him in the head. This time, she got him on the bridge of his nose.

This time, the DSI soldier turned his head at the last moment and let his cheek suffer the blow. When he faced her again, Hikari whimpered at the intrepid leer gracing his rugged countenance. She backpedaled, fearful of his purpose.

The gun went down.

"Don't come any closer!"

The gun went down, and in its place rose the cylindrical object in her other hand. She held it high, so high not even Toraichi could be so blind as to overlook it. He would see how snugly Veemon's detonator fit in her dainty clasp and scrutinize the thumb hovering over the red button. "D-don't, or, o-o-o, or I—I will—I'll push!

"I'll push this button and set the bomb off!"

A part of Hikari was dying.

A part of her was wailing in agony.

Her heart found itself ensnared in the pangs of grief.

Why wasn't the soldier getting the message? Didn't he want to live? Didn't he get his second chance? It was only fair, wasn't it? For him to give her the very same? For him to give them a chance at rescuing Taichi?

But none of that was happening! He wasn't reacting the way a normal person might have in his place. Toraichi kept going, kept walking, while Hikari kept backing away, her coquelicot eyes dilating from the mounting pressure. Only a little more and the pressure would ignite an explosion, and nothing would ever be the same again.

In the end, she had no choice. She had to pull out the trump card. The patrolman stopped as soon as Hikari presented the detonator. "Take one more step and the DDS is gone. My _friends_ in the Digital World will come and you **will** regret not listening to—

"It'll be over," Toraichi muttered. "It'll all be over soon." He took one more step.

"No! Stay away! I'm telling you. If you take another step, I'll—

He took another.

"I'll push this. I MEAN IT! I **will** blow them all up if you keep—

And another.

Hikari stepped back, only to feel a frigid sensation on her back. The cold steel passed its chilling feel onto her neck and through her blouse and arm warmers. The slab of metal that had very nearly squashed her digimon partner met her halfway. Blocked her path. The woman was cornered. The woman was trapped and cowering like fraught prey, helpless before a salivating predator licking its chops.

And another.

"Damn it! Why aren't you listening? Why won't you—

"Because you **won't**."

Then those purposive steps quickened.

All the words, all the rebuttals teetering on the edge of her tongue suddenly vanished. Hikari's mouth twisted with a barbaric whine, her entire body jolting from Toraichi's sudden speed as she squealed pitifully like the soft woman she was. The hand holding the gun shifted to instinct, its index finger pulling the trigger again and again and again. The weapon shot away repeatedly, bullet after bullet pounding the soldier's frame until the only thing remaining audible was a distinct clicking noise.

Click-click-click.

"Wheeeeewwww," the Child of Light breathed. It was over. She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what her coquelicot gaze would show her. Even if he wasn't dead, at such close range the soldier must have received enough bullets in the face to knock him out. Enough bullets to tear into the skin and tarnish it with grody meat and exposed bones. Enough bullets to perhaps blind him in both eyes or crush the cartilage of his nose.

"Oh my…"

Life couldn't be any crueler than it had been so far.

As a reward for her efforts, as a reward for her desperation, Hikari Yagami received a most frightful mien lacquered against a crimson backdrop, against the purple and bloody bruises of Toraichi's countenance. The man had stood his ground against Hikari's assault.

"No…"

Her body was transfixed. Immobilized by a perfected shock. She could do nothing—she could _say_ nothing but watch the DSI guardsman hawk a broken tooth wrapped in a disgusting loogie before baring his bleeding teeth to her quivering vision. "Because you're **too soft**."

There was nowhere else to go. "No…"

Toraichi pulled out a knife and rushed in. All he required were a couple steps and he was there, knife swinging and stabbing. Hikari squalled from the impending mortality, shrieked and howled and bickered in undiluted terror and hysteria. "AAAGGGHHHHHH!"

"NO! NO, NO, NO!" Yagami raised her arms in an attempt to bar him.

The hardened soldier was upon her with a face devoid of emotions. Aware of the terrible act, of the heartless sin. Murdering a naïve girl, slicing through her young, supple skin and making her wretch and wail at the experience of the world's unfairness. This was the world of adults. The world of reality. The world where credulity and innocent, childish ideals were displaced—were overwhelmed by conflicting interests, vague morality, and a culture whose historians panegyrized those who committed dark deeds and unforgivable sins for the sake of the greater good, for the progression and utility of vast numbers of people.

"Don't, please, don't—

Without hesitation, Toraichi thrust the dagger in Hikari's belly, found a glaring weak point between the citrine blouse and the slim armor beneath, and dug the blade deeper, slashing through her innards, through her liver and kidneys, through her stomach.

She gurgled. "P, p-please…"

He forced it down, ripping the metal through her groin and out her vagina before whipping the razor-sharp blade straight across those terrified eyes both and in one fluid motion, pulverized her marred face with the tip of his elbow.

In five seconds, Hikari was dead. Her knees buckled. Her body collapsed lifelessly on the guideway and for sure Tailmon felt their connection ebbing away, receding into gelid, inimical nothingness.

_._

_._

_._

_What the hell just happened? To be continued in the second half of "The Value of Life"._

* * *

**Post-chapter notes:**

[8] Once again, CH27 contains several Real Life references to enhance the reader experience, like every other chapter from CH10 and onward. These are as follows:

- The Toyota Mega Cruiser and the Kawasaki motorcycles Veemon, Hikari, and Tailmon evaded at the First Hub are actual models produced by these manufacturers.

The Mega Cruiser is a heavy-duty 4WD introduced by **Toyota** in 1995 and exclusively sold in Japan up until 2002, which resembled the Hummer H1 and was designed for military use (infantry transports equipped with mounted howitzers and mobile SAM launchers) by the JSDF. It is currently in use by the Japanese military, but it did not see use during the Iraq War because, unlike the Komatsu Light Armored Vehicle (LAV), the vehicle had inadequate protection from small arms fire. As for the **Kawasaki** KLX250 motorcycle, it is a dual-purpose bike that began production in 2006 and is **a current **product of the manufacturer. It is currently in use by the JSDF in real life.

- Asahi Super Dry—the empty bottle thrown by Hikari to distract the second DSI patrol encountered in the First Hub—is the flagship beer of Asahi Breweries, Ltd. It is a leading soft drink company and brewery headquartered in Sumida, Tokyo, with its parent company **Asahi Group Holdings Ltd**. (TYO: 2502) worth ¥1.2 trillion ($12.1 billion) in market capitalization as of August, 2, 2013 and a member of the Nikkei 225 index. The Super Dry was developed and introduced to the Japanese in 1987, nearly 100 years after the company's inception in Osaka. It had gone viral, initiating a nationwide obsession for dry beer and spearheading Asahi's business performance.

- The Yamanashi Maglev Veemon alluded to in a brief outburst alludes to the **SCMaglev** co-developed by the Central Japan Railway Company and the Railway Technical Research Institute. However, the Yamanashi mentioned here is actually a _test track_ that was opened in Tsuru, Yamanashi in 1997, with testing of the train carried out since opening until 2011. Testing resumed in June 2013. A three-car train employing the SCMaglev electrodynamic system has reached max speeds of 581 km/h (361 mph) in a manned vehicle run. The Japanese Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport, and Tourism has granted permission to commercialize this on the planned 中央新幹線 (Chuo Shinkansen) line, which aims to **link Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka** by 2045. According to the Central Japan Railway Company's 2012 data book, environmental impact assessments are currently underway.

- The "Mr. Abe" mentioned by Mitsuo Yamaki in passing is a reference to **Shinzo Abe**, the current Prime Minister of Japan and a right-wing nationalist who returned to official capacities in December 2012 after a five-year hiatus following his resignation in September 2007. Under his leadership, he has taken an aggressive stance against the ongoing geopolitical dispute with China over the Diaoyu / Senkaku Islands and formally offered the SCMaglev system to President Barack Obama in February 2013.

He presently aims to revive the declining Japanese economy by "implement[ing] bold monetary policy, flexible fiscal policy, and a growth strategy that encourages private investment", a strategy that is causing tension in the world **as you are reading this** and according to economists and other investment professionals, can potentially spark a currency war through the decade as multiple sovereign governments attempt to offset the impact of a depreciating Yen on their economic competitiveness.

- The 50 Cal is military slang for the Browning .50 cal heavy machine gun, which has been in use throughout the world since its first use in World War I. In real life, it is used extensively for vehicle weapons and anti-aircraft armaments, and depending on the model, boasts rates of fire varying from 450 to 575 rounds per minute at an effective range of 1.8 kilometers (a little over **1 mile**!)

- _Kagutsuchi _and _Raijin_ correspond to the gods of fire and lightning, respectively, in Japanese mythology. For _Kagutsuchi_, his birth marks the beginning of death, as his birth caused his mother's death and compelled his father Izanagi to behead the baby with his sword, with the blood creating a number of other deities.

For _Raijin_, he is a god of lightning, thunder, and storms in Shintoism and in Japanese mythology, typically depicted as a demonic spirit beating drums to create thunder with tomoe symbols drawn on the drums. His connection to _Kagutsuchi_ is manifest in how he was born through Izanami's death, festering within the rotting corpse. In Western culture, _Raijin_ is usually known as _Raiden_. (Check Wikipedia for more information on either; they apparently have citations for each.)

- Some of the procedure words used in the communications exchanged between the ODC and DSI personnel (Mitsuo Yamaki included) are used in real life and have been lifted directly from the **5****th**** chapter of the current US Army manual**. I would not know if the JSDF's military communications operates in a similar manner, but I assumed the DSI would since it is a global organization in the storyline and thus benchmarks itself against a worldwide standard… which is of course, the United States.

[10] Digital Suppression Technology named and introduced in this chapter:

- The AutoMod: Digital Modification, automated. There is only one modification embedded in the AutoMod's programming and has a finite battery life equivalent to eight hours before replacement is necessary. The attachment basically creates a miniature Digital Field around the barrel and its nuzzle, and any bullets in it not only carry bits and pieces of the Digital Field on its way out, but are also automatically altered to manifest the programming. This is a very deadly combination as it can add secondary effects to bullets with primary characteristics (explosive, piercing, incendiary) or amplify them.

- Combat SCAI: Digimon fitted with dark spirals ("triband suppressors" in DSI parlance) designed to completely suppress free will and speech, boost power by 60%, and emphasize rage, bloodlust, and absolute obedience. The dark spirals are color-coded red to differentiate them from the Service (white) and Pet (black) types seen in Chapter 10, "Culture Shock". 80% of Child level digimon evolve instantly to their Adult forms due to the transformers embedded in the machinery. If the need arises, the DSI handlers can activate program overrides to disable the safety regulators in the dark spirals and force evolution to Perfect level, as Ken Ichichouji had done **twice **with Greymon using the dark ring _and _the dark spiral.

However, the dark spirals are taxed while the digimon is in the Perfect stage, with the extra boost of power coming from—I would think—the life force of the digimon itself (rather than the human's as what occurs with the tamers and their digivices). If left in this stage for too long, either the dark spiral short-circuits or, and this is more likely, the digimon devolves to the Child level and is not only sapped completely of energy but literally on the brink of death unless treated by their handlers within five minutes.

[11] I'm still a ways away from "Value of Life", Part II, so please be patient! Thanks. :)

[12] If I get any reviews on this chapter, the truncated version will be posted right below this.

**Keeper of Worlds**: Your reaction is EXACTLY what I was looking for! Thanks. To answer your question, please reread CH26 and CH27 carefully and figure it out for yourself.

**Kingveemon: **Hey, KV! Thanks for the feedback. Each review you leave helps. As loathe as I am to admit it, unfortunately in a world where people herd together and find safety in numbers, a large quantity of valued things can be considered an indicator of quality. So each comment increases the uptick a bit and helps draw in new readers whenever I update, so thanks for saying something!

Anyway, as for your question re: Hikari and Tailmon, just as I told Keeper of Worlds, you can either _reread CH26 and CH27_ or _scrutinize the pre-chapter notes for CH27 _to infer your answer, whichever is more convenient. Figure it out for yourself.


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